Chapter 7 The Rules Of Engagement #2
"Oh my god," he wheezes. "Oh my fucking god. She just... you just..." He cannot even finish the sentence, dissolving into another fit of hysterics that has him nearly falling off the couch.
I turn my glare toward him.
Cal's laughter cuts off like someone flipped a switch. His hands immediately move to cover his own groin in a protective gesture, his amber eyes going wide with sudden terror.
"Yeah, no, fuck that." He holds up his other hand in surrender. "No bullying in class. Got it. Completely understood. Message received loud and clear. I will never say a mean word to you again. Please do not kick me."
I look at Etienne.
He is smiling. Not laughing like Cal was, but genuinely smiling, those storm-blue eyes soft with what looks like admiration. Or maybe respect. Or maybe he is just thoroughly entertained by watching his packmates get put in their place by an Omega half their size.
Either way, his expression clearly communicates that he has no intention of bullying me. Not now. Not ever.
Good enough for now.
I return to my spot in the center of the room while Rafe continues to make dying whale sounds on the floor, clutching himself and occasionally letting out a high-pitched whimper.
"Anyway." I smooth down my shirt like nothing happened. "Rule number three."
"You are insane," Rafe groans from the ground, his voice several octaves higher than usual.
"The living room is the common space," I continue, ignoring him completely.
"No fighting. If you want to brawl, do it outside.
Go to the gym. Hit each other on the ice during practice.
I do not care where, as long as it is not here.
I do not want us getting in trouble with the administration because you cannot control your Alpha impulses. "
Cal raises an eyebrow, still keeping one protective hand near his crotch just in case.
"Why do you care about that?"
"Because it goes against our grades and our standing here.
" I cross my arms. "Even if you guys are only here short-term, I am sure those strikes will have an impact on whether you are able to play or not.
Disciplinary action, probation, suspensions from games.
They take that stuff seriously here. Keep that in mind before you start throwing punches. "
Cal frowns, exchanging a glance with Etienne that communicates volumes.
"Why do you care if we can play?"
I shrug, trying to find the right words.
"I do not care, specifically. About you personally." I uncross my arms, then cross them again, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands. "But it is clear that this school has a reputation. A good one. And that reputation can get you guys somewhere real. We should not be thinking short-term here."
I look at each of them in turn.
"Do you not have careers in mind? Potential dreams? Goals beyond just surviving the next few weeks?"
Silence.
The kind of silence that stretches too long and becomes heavy with unspoken things.
Even Rafe has stopped his dramatic hissing. He is still on the floor, but he is propped up on one elbow now, looking at me with an expression I cannot quite read. Something complicated. Something almost vulnerable beneath all that hostility.
"What?" I look between all three of them. "You are all on the junior hockey team. Talented enough to earn scholarships here. Do you not want careers out of this? Do you not dream of actually making it to the NHL? Playing professionally? Having your names on jerseys that kids wear?"
More silence.
I frown, genuinely confused now.
"Are you seriously telling me you are here for shits and giggles? That you do not have goals? That you are just... existing? Going through the motions without any vision of the future?"
Etienne is the one who finally breaks the silence.
"Well," he says slowly, his voice thoughtful and tinged with something that might be sadness, "no one has ever asked. Or cared. About that kind of stuff."
What?
I stare at them, processing this information.
Three elite athletes at a prestigious academy. Three Alphas with athletic scholarships and access to professional-level training and coaches who should be mentoring them toward careers. And no one has ever asked them what they actually want out of their futures?
That is... incredibly sad, actually.
"Well, start thinking about it," I say firmly. "We are not here to waste time. Figure out what you want and go after it. You have resources most people would kill for. Use them."
Rafe grumbles from the floor, finally hauling himself into a sitting position with a wince.
"Why the fuck are you here, then?" His voice is rough, still recovering from the ball assault. "What is your grand plan, Miss Life Coach? What dreams are you chasing?"
Fair question. Annoying, but fair.
I take a breath, debating how much to share. These are the people I will be living with for the next six weeks. We do not have to be friends, but maybe we should at least understand each other.
"Mama Dearest," I say, letting sarcasm drip from the words like honey laced with poison, "has decided that I need to be bonded before Valentine's Day.
Packed up and shipped off to some pack she has pre-selected from her rolodex of wealthy, influential families.
The best candidates, according to her exacting standards. "
Cal's eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline. Etienne's expression shifts into genuine concern. Even Rafe looks vaguely interested, though he tries to hide it behind that permanent scowl.
"And since I have no interest in becoming a tossed-around broodmare for whatever rich Alphas my mother has deemed acceptable," I continue, "I opted into playing pretend student at a school that can give me enough time to figure out what I actually want in life.
Time to make my own choices before someone makes them for me. "
I spread my arms wide, gesturing at the room around us.
"So here I am. Six weeks to sort my shit out before my twenty-fifth birthday rolls around and my autonomy gets revoked. Happy?"
Nobody says anything for a long moment.
Rafe is frowning now. Not the annoyed, hostile frown I have come to expect from him. This is different. Deeper. Like he is actually processing what I said and finding it genuinely disturbing rather than just annoying.
Weird. I did not expect him to care about my problems. I barely expect him to tolerate my existence.
I clear my throat, pushing past the awkwardness before it can swallow us whole.
"Anyway. Rule number four." I hold up four fingers. "As roommates, we should have at least one day a week where we are all together for some kind of activity. Cooking, cleaning, watching a movie, doing some sort of hobby. I do not care what it is. Just... something."
Cal tilts his head, those amber eyes narrowing slightly.
"Why would we want to hang out with you?"
I pout, feeling the sting of the words even though I know he does not mean them as cruelly as they sound.
Why would anyone want to hang out with you?
You are not interesting enough. Not pretty enough. Not enough of anything for anyone to want around.
Shut up, brain. Not helpful right now. We are working on self-esteem, remember? Therapy homework.
I shrug, forcing casualness into my voice despite the tightness in my chest.
"I do not know." I scuff my foot against the hardwood floor like a child caught asking for something they think they do not deserve. "I just think the idea is kind of... nice? Building some sort of rapport? We are living together for six weeks. We might as well try to not actively hate each other."
I look up, meeting their eyes with more vulnerability than I intended to show.
"But whatever. Suck it up. Even if we are all just sitting in silence for an hour, it counts. I am not asking for friendship bracelets and slumber parties. Just... coexistence that does not feel like a war zone."
Nobody argues.
I will take that as reluctant agreement.
"And finally." I take a deep breath, bracing myself for this one because I know it is going to cause chaos. "Rule number five. No sex."
The three of them stare at me.
Completely blank.
Like I have just spoken in a language they do not understand.
The silence stretches out, thick and awkward and absolutely excruciating.
"I mean..." I can feel heat creeping up my neck, probably turning my face the color of a tomato. "Not no sex ever. Just no... no fucking each other. Or fucking people in the dorm. While I am here."
Oh god, why did I phrase it like that? This is a disaster. I am a disaster.
I groan, rubbing my temples in frustration at my own terrible word choices.
"What I am trying to say is, if you want to bang every pretty candy on this campus, fine. That is your business, and I will not judge. But do not do it here. Not when I am around. I do not want to smell other Omegas' pheromones filling up this tiny hut for weeks on end."
I wrinkle my nose at the very thought.
"I already have to deal with the sensory overload of the Omega washrooms every day. All those competing scents, all those pheromones, all that hormonal energy bouncing off the walls. I do not need it in my living space too."
Rafe, who has finally managed to stand up though he is still slightly hunched over and walking gingerly, scoffs.
"You cannot just ban sex from the dorm." His voice is incredulous, borderline offended. "What if we want to bring back a... whatever. A date. For the night."
I give him a side glare that could cut glass.
"You are rich, are you not?" I tilt my head with mock innocence. "Go to a hotel. They have plenty on campus, specifically designed for these situations. Romantic suites with soundproof walls and scent neutralizers. Very classy. Very discreet."
He opens his mouth to argue.
"Or find a closet," I continue before he can get a word in. "Or use the locker room. You are always naked there anyway. Might as well make use of it for something productive."