Chapter 19
CONNOR
Flipping my phone over, I check the time, my knee bouncing uncontrollably.
One fifty-five. She should be here any minute. The über-nerd early birds for the next class after hers have been steadily rolling up, so they must surely be finished by now.
Tugging the brim of my cap low, I stand to the side of the building’s entrance, eyes fixed on the double doors.
Wren Murphy. My goddamn vice-captain’s little sister.
Of all the Omegas in this world to be strung out over, she just had to be a particularly special brand of off-limits, didn’t she?
Is Wren gonna be pleased to see me? Who fucking knows.
But I’ve been unable to get her out of my mind since discovering who she is.
Well, if I’m really honest, since the moment she tried to damn near tackle me for stealing her hot chocolate.
So my feet led me here today, and I’ve more or less reasoned with myself that it’s not an addiction, but a necessity to get my head on straight.
I gotta know if the way I’m feeling all sorts of dumped upside down about this little pixie of an Omega is reciprocated.
There are only so many times I can take being around Ace without him seeing me.
Or at least, the only way he does see me is firmly as one part teammate, and one part the guy he shares a toothbrush holder with.
At least her pretty blue eyes acknowledge that I exist and give me something to work with.
How bloody pathetic am I? Pining over a guy I can’t have, and now an Omega I shouldn’t be breathing the same air as.
Speak of the handsome tattooed devil himself. A text arrives.
Ace:
Want to come lose to me at pool tonight?
Me:
Who said I’d be losing?
Ace:
Thought you’d still be feeling the sting after that pathetic showing last season down in Florida. Wiped the floor with your highlander ass, remember?
Might as well just cut me a check where you’re standing.
Me:
Double or nothing?
Ace:
I mean… if you wanna hand me the cash right now… just say so, man.
Me:
Maybe I just like to let you think you’re winning. Play you at your own game.
Ace:
You know I see straight through your lies, Scotland.
Don’t think you could hide anything from me.
My stomach tightens, heat pooling low. This is the shit that does me in every time where he’s concerned.
We have moments like this, where I can’t tell if he’s just being that serious poker face guy, or whether it’s a little bit flirtatious, and then I end up damn well spiraling the drain, overthinking everything.
Atlas Palamo is a fucking god, and yet he doesn’t fool around with anyone as far as I know. He’s dedicated to rugby, and that’s about it. The guy doesn’t go out partying, he doesn’t blow his money on frivolous shit. He’s just head down, turning up to work, and putting in the hours at training.
It’s sexy as hell.
And for all my sins, I gotta be the guy to share a house with him and withstand day after day when he walks around all eight-pack ab show with no shirt on.
My dumb little bisexual heart has to endure all his gorgeous brown skin and tattoos, and scowly faces.
I put up with the ache behind my ribs because I genuinely like being around him.
The guy is calming, settling, quiets my storm when I’m not in the best headspace after a game, or feeling like shit after a training session when things didn’t go to plan.
I’d rather live with hidden feelings for my friend and teammate than not have him in my life. So… I’m stuck in my own endless situation where I’ve cockblocked myself. Because I don’t want him to think I’m some fuckboy rugby player. His opinion of me matters more than I can put into words.
If anything, living with him, training together, basically being by each other’s sides for the majority of our days and nights, I’ve become a better player for the level of discipline he introduced me to.
Before I transferred to the Wolves, it was easy to be the superstar because that’s what everyone kept telling me I was.
They wanted me to flash a smile for a camera and be at the center of the media circus.
It was tempting to say yes to all the bright lights and flashy after-parties. But that shit ate away at my game.
Since I’ve been here in Vermont, I can see it in myself. My focus is on my skill set, my strength, my ability to play at the very top level. Fuck, it’ll hopefully earn me another chance to represent my country at the World Cup because of it.
Those doors I’ve been keeping a close eye on burst open, interrupting my momentary fixation on my roommate I’d very much like to play with in a different sense of the word, and loud chatter draws my attention.
I quickly type my reply to Ace and hit send.
Me:
You’re on, motherfucker.
See you tonight.
Shoving my phone away, I’m dialed in on the faces exiting the lecture hall.
Scanning for that blond hair and sweetheart face.
Eventually, I see her. Wren’s one of the last to leave, walking out with her books tucked against her chest, and a frustrated growl builds deep behind my ribs when I see she’s smiling and chatting to a guy who looks to be about twelve fucking years old with a fluorescent yellow backpack and an orange beanie slouched over his hair.
They wave and part ways as he hops on a skateboard.
Christ. A fucking skateboard. This douchebag, who reeks like asparagus piss, is the kind of idiot she’s entertaining after class?
My stare drilling into her must finally register, because her gaze flicks my way, and those big blue orbs startle wide.
Any frustration from a moment before melts as soon as our eyes connect.
“Hey, Bambi.” My grin splits while I take a step closer to the base of the stairs, hands shoved in my pockets.
“Oh my god… are you insane? You cannot be here.” With a quick look around, she races down the few steps, and I’m imagining what it would be like to have her jump straight into my arms. You know, a real cliché movie moment would be romantic as hell right about now, but instead she circles me by the arm in a death grip and drags me out of sight of the grass quad covered in patches of snow drifts.
Looking down, I take in the spot where her tiny fingers wrap around my wrist. Is this some sort of weird Alpha-specific sensory experience? She’s touching me voluntarily, and it’s like I’m floating, even if it’s in a slightly rough and manhandling sort of way. I’ll take scraps if I can get them.
“Why are you here?” she hisses, darting to look around again to make sure no one is nearby.
Then does a double take, this time pausing to look at me properly.
As she does, her previously tight expression softens, and she reaches up as if she instinctively wants to touch my face, before quickly snatching her hand back. “God. You’re a mess.”
“Looks worse than it is. A scratch.”
Her glare is extremely pretty. “That looks like you came off second best with a fist.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I couldn’t care less about a black eye if it means I get her attention and frowns. “Just a little bruising.”
“A little?” she scoffs. “It has its own zip code.”
Leaning forward, I wet my lips and take the opportunity to get right up close. “Kiss it better?” I murmur.
She blushes. Adorably so. But then folds both arms across her chest, shielding herself behind those heavy textbooks, and gives me a firm look, with brows drawn together. Fuck, she’s adorable.
“What is this? You stalking me, big guy?”
“You came to my game.”
“I watched the game as did thousands of other people. And now you know why I was there.” She tilts her head to one side.
Wincing, I see it on her face. I see the sibling similarities now between her and Finch, too.
Yeah. It’s gonna be a challenge to avoid ending up in her brother’s crosshairs if he figures out that I’m halfway gone for his little sister, and all we’ve done is bump into each other and stroll around campus.
“You knew who I was the other day,” I counter.
Another bit of extra flush graces her cheekbones. “Hard not to notice who you are.” She waves a hand up and down my frame.
“Are you saying I’m particularly memorable?”
“As a headache.”
That causes a laugh to bark out of me.
“C’mon, little Omega, let me walk you home.”
She stares at me, open-mouthed. I might as well have just suggested we strip naked and roll around in the snow.
I mean, not that I’d be opposed to seeing Wren naked right this second.
Her body might be hidden away under sweaters, but with those jeans molded perfectly to her ass, there’s no denying she’s got one hell of a figure…
but, shit, she’s giving me that stern face again.
As if she knows exactly where my mind just drifted to.
“Are you seriously trying to get me kicked out of my scholarship?” There’s a hint of something in her voice as she says it, and my stomach sinks.
Scrubbing one palm over my mouth, I can’t help but feel like a right selfish prat for not seeing it through her eyes.
Here I am waltzing around campus, safe in the knowledge of my rugby career, and yet Wren is the one with so much to lose.
The way Omegas are treated in this country is bullshit. I mean, things aren’t exactly perfect at home, but the system isn’t anywhere near as backward as it is in this country.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean anything by it. Just saying I’d like to walk with you if you’d let me?” I reach behind me. “Even brought an umbrella.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s blue skies.”
The clearest blue, just like the sapphire shimmer in her irises.
“Never know what the weather might bring.”
“Cloudy with a chance of persistent rugby player?” I don’t miss the way the corners of her lips twitch.
“At least let me walk with you to the café.”
“How do you know I’m not going to the library to study?”
“Just call it a hunch… that a certain Omega needs her mid-afternoon comfort hot chocolate fix.”
Her heavy, resigned exhale is music to my ears.
“Fine. But if anyone asks, you’re my brother’s friend, and he asked you to walk with me as a favor because he’s an overbearing, overprotective asshole.” Her finger pokes my chest.
“He really is, isn’t he? Read us all the riot act about you, too.”
We start walking, side by side, Wren hugging her books to her chest, and me with my hands shoved deep in my pockets to avoid any temptation to do something crazy like reaching out to take her by the hand.
“Finch told you all about me, huh?”
I nod, trying and failing to keep the smirk locked down that insists on creeping onto my lips.
“He did. But I’m more interested in hearing about you, from you.”
That draws a soft laugh out of her. “Don’t joke. You’re the world-famous rugby star here. My life is boring as shit compared to yours.”
“How so?”
“Uhhhh… how about being in the running for world player of the year twice in a row? Named in the MVP first fifteen for three seasons straight. Most tries scored for the Wolves last season, and second on points behind Maddox, and that’s only because he’s the one kicking all the extras.”
As soon as she blurts it all out, Wren ducks her chin and goes as silent as anyone has ever gone in the history of the world.
I bump my elbow with hers. “Sounds like you sure know a lot for someone who doesn’t know anything about rugby.” Poking my tongue against the inside of my cheek, I’m too much of an asshole not to tease her.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I gotta keep an eye on the stats across the team when my brother is playing. Need to watch for the weak links in the starting lineup.”
“I think I just fell in love.” Lying one palm across my chest, I tip my head back with a sigh.
“I think you should have had your head checked a second time by the match doctor on the weekend.”
That makes my inner Alpha puff up. She’s lying through her teeth, this little Omega, and I think I might have just tripped and found myself at the feet of the perfect fucking girl.
If only our circumstances weren’t so damn complicated.
We carry on walking for a little while, as I build up the courage to finally ask.
“Do me a favor, would you?” I shoot a look sideways.
“What?” Her brows furrow. Suspicious little thing.
“We’ve got a dumb team pool contest tonight. Bring your friends and come?”
That has her mouth opening and closing, before finally landing on a reply. “Are you hearing yourself?”
She didn’t say no.
“Look, I know the rules. I know I can’t go near you.” Doing air bunny quotations only makes her roll those pretty eyes. “I understand the risk to your degree and respect that. All I’m saying is, just… come and hang out tonight with your brother… and forty of his closest buddies.”
“Oh my god.” That has her outright laughing. And I feel all smug that I finally got her to crack. Wren’s laugh is soft and melodious. Yeah, I’m already well and truly addicted.
“Please?” My puppy dog eyes come out to play. “I’ll be honest. The only thing I’m good at is rugby, and that depends on who you talk to about whether I’m any good at that, or not. I completely suck at pool. I’m gonna lose a shit ton of money tonight, along with taking a massive blow to my ego…”
“A good thing,” she mutters wryly.
“Don’t you wanna come see me get my ass handed to me by the entire squad?”
Her eyes flash. Curiosity lingers there.
“If we can’t hang out just the two of us, at least come and revel in my misery.”
We keep walking, getting ever closer to the café. As we reach the front door, I pause on the sidewalk, knowing I’ll have to leave her from this point onward.
“What’s in it for you?” Those blue eyes tip up to meet mine.
She’s still not saying no, which makes my pulse drum a little harder as I give her a bright smile while stepping back.
Putting some space between us but keeping my gaze fixed on her feels like the right move.
Hopefully the type of pathetic, pleading eyes that offer just the right amount of desperation to get her to come along.
“Hang out with us tonight, Bambi. You can enjoy watching me suffer, and at least I’ll know the prettiest blues in the world are on me.”