Chapter 2
Juniper
Running my hands through my shoulder-length hair, the deep-purple shade vibrant against my pale skin, I look up at the university that will be my home for the next year, and hopefully more, with a sense of excitement and anxiety. This whole situation still seems too good to be true, but I’m here, standing on the infamous North U campus, looking up at the fancy navy, plum, and silver banners and ivy trellises that span a whole lot of the beautiful red brick that makes up the exterior of the school.
“Pretty dope, huh?” a voice wonders from beside me, and I startle slightly, clutching tightly to the strap of my duffle bag that hangs on my shoulder. My body stills, and I have to make an effort not to outwardly cringe at the thought of having to socialize. A people person, I am not. I only made an exception for Mack, because that man helped me more than anyone ever has. Anyone else can fuck off.
Sadly, this stranger doesn’t, even when I keep my silence for a long, awkward moment.
Peering to my side, I find a girl only two inches shorter than me—if I wasn’t wearing four-inch-heeled boots—dressed in loose, shredded jeans, a white, cropped shirt, and bubble-gum pink headphones wrapped around her neck. Pale-silver hair with pastel highlights is styled in a messy bun on top of her head, her gray, almost silver, eyes watching me as I take her in. She’s hella pretty, with sharp cheekbones, pointed chin, and full lips I’ve only seen on models in magazines. She looks like a new age version of a pixie, and I find eyes narrowing on her as her lips twitch with amusement.
When the gum she pops breaks me out of my perusal, I decide I should just answer her and then maybe she’ll leave me alone. So, like an idiot, I nod slowly, and answer, “It sure is something.”
The little pixie grins at me, flashing rows of perfectly straight teeth, and holds her hand out for me to take. Guess she’s not going away. “Silver Gage. Welcome to North U. I assume you’re a virgin.”
I fucking choke on my inhale, my hand stopping shy of touching hers when I try my attempt at being polite, and the woman snickers as she forgoes the handshake and slaps my back repeatedly. I’m not sure how the hell she knew something that personal about me, or if I somehow give off never-been-fucked vibes that I didn’t know about, but I’m actually stunned that she was bold enough to even bring it up. I’m no stranger to bold conversation. I mean, I’ve worked in bars and clubs for the last few years, so it comes with the territory. Not so much from a slight of a girl with quirky hair and the face of a porno Tinkerbell.
Silver slaps my back hard while I struggle for air, my lungs protesting the lack of oxygen, but when I finally catch my breath enough to inhale deeply, the scent of bubble-gum follows, sweet and sugary. I wonder for a moment if I’ve just met my first omega, the scent similar to mine in sweetness.
“I meant a North U virgin. As in, new to school,” the weirdo clarifies before I can ponder on it, laughing when I snort and cough at the same time. “That’s my bad. My cousin says I have a way with words. Not a good way, but a way.”
“No shit,” I blurt as soon as I can speak again, eyeing the girl like she’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic. I do, however, hold my hand out to the crazy girl, finally introducing myself, “Juniper Baines, North U virgin.”
Silver laughs as she shakes my hand, that sugary scent tickling my nose again, making my nose scrunch as I eye her closely .
“What? What’s that look?” she prods, eyeing me back like I’m the crazy one.
Shaking my head, I decide to just ask her, since she has no qualms inadvertently bringing up my sex life, or lack thereof. “You always smell like unicorn farts and rainbows? All I can smell is bubble-gum right now.”
Silver’s mouth falls open before she makes me physically flinch when she starts laughing so hard that she bends at the waist, hands gripping her knees. I mean, it’s not that funny, right? I’m half debating walking away from the crazy girl, worried her mental instability is catching, but then she stands and wipes under her eyes like she just heard the funniest thing ever. Some people are easily amused, I guess.
“Unicorn farts. That’s brilliant. You did, however, remind me that I need to take my pill. Thanks, newbie,” she snickers, digging into her sky-blue backpack sprinkled with silver glitter. Jesus, everything about this girl is practically screaming, fun, bubbly, and cute . I hate it.
Trying to offer some semblance of a smile, I jerk my head in acceptance of her gratitude, watching as she takes a familiar pill to the ones I have to take daily. So, she is an omega. That would explain the sugary aroma. It’s sickly and sticks to the back of your throat, and I only briefly wonder if that’s what my scent is like to others. Not that I’m willing to find out. The last time that happened, I almost lost whatever innocence I have left.
“So, you gonna just stand there like a wet fart in a thunderstorm or are you actually going to go into the building?” she prods, putting the bottle of pills in her bag before turning those startling silver eyes back on me.
I raise an unimpressed eyebrow, one that makes her smile, and tell her, “You gonna keep badgering newbies on their first day, or do you have better things to do?”
That grin comes back, and I wonder what the fuck I’m doing wrong that she won’t just leave? I’m not exactly being pleasant, right? Or does she not understand social cues and all that stuff? Oh, god. What if she’s blissfully unaware that I’m happier alone and she decides to claim me, the introvert to her obvious extrovert? It’s like my worst social nightmare has come to fruition.
“Well, hell, the kitten has claws. I like it. You’re right, though. I have to get my schedule in about ten minutes. You just caught my eye standing there with a look of wonder on your face, so I figured I’d introduce myself,” she admits, shrugging her backpack on her shoulder, careless and free. It’s almost refreshing.
Shrugging, I confess, “Haven’t seen anything like it before, so I wanted to take it in.”
“Makes sense. I stared for about twenty minutes before I remembered I had places to go to and people to see,” she agrees, snorting at the memory. I’ll admit, my lips twitch at the image of the pastel pixie gawking at the school much like I had, but I shake it free, determined to keep myself at a distance from anyone and everyone. I don’t need friends. I need an education . Something that will get me to my dreams instead of buried at the bottom of a barrel of depression and heartache. I’ve already suffered through that particular pain. I need more of that shit like I need another hole in my head.
Clearing my throat, I haul my duffel higher and nod at Silver before telling her, “Well, this has been fun. I’m gonna go anywhere else that isn’t here.”
Silver laughs so loud that she draws attention and shakes her head. “You’re funny, kitten. I’ll see you around.”
“Whatever, Tink,” I shake my head, snorting when the crazy person laughs again before shoving her headphones on and strides away without so much as a single care in the world. That’s the kind of vibe I’d strive for if I wasn’t terrified they’d find me. Sadly, I’m full of cares. And worries. And anxieties. And everything fucking else these days. And it’s all because of the pack that I was born into. And the pack that I lost.
Taking a deep breath and clenching my jaw, I decide to quit lingering outside like a loser, and pull out the paper from the back pocket of my black, torn skinny jeans, reading over the details on how to find my new room.
Without any more stops, I go hunting for room one-one-six, keeping my head down in order to prevent anyone else feeling brave and bold enough to introduce themselves. There’s only so much I can take in one day.
***
It takes me several wrong turns and a venture up a set of stairs I didn’t need to take before I find my new room. Standing inside, thankful beyond all reason that I haven’t been lumped with a roommate, I eye the double bed tucked against one wall, the other occupied by an elaborate desk-shelf-cupboard combo. I spy a fridge tucked away in the corner, a simple-looking microwave seated atop it, and my lips twitch knowing the only thing I’ll be cooking in here is Ramen. Not that I mind. Ramen is underrated, especially smoky-bacon flavored. Simple but delicious, and something I’m not a stranger to eating. It’s not like I could afford much else on such a tight budget after running from the Burtons.
The bed is bare, and the chair tucked beneath the desk looks like it would hurt my back more than offer any kind of support, and the window is empty of curtains or blinds, but it’s cute. It’s quaint. But, most importantly, it’s mine. It only needs a few odd bits to make it feel comfortable. I don’t need anything fancy. A comforter and sheets are a must, though.
Deciding now is probably as good of a time as any to buy what I need, I drop my duffle bag on the bed. I was relieved to find that all of my belongings fit in an oversized duffle instead of a suitcase, saving myself the trouble of buying a new one to travel, so it makes ditching everything in my new room much easier. Fishing out my purse from the side pocket and scooping my keys from the bed, I head back out the way I came, making sure to lock the door after myself .
It takes me less time to locate the exit than it did finding my room, and I find myself seated in my truck and following the app on my cell to the nearest town, the windows rolled down and my wavy hair blowing with the cool Fall breeze whistling through my short hair. It’s still warm enough that the breeze is welcome, crisp aromas of nature filling my cabin of the truck welcomingly, taking away with it what little of my scent lingers in the leather seats.
After fifteen minutes of driving and finding only small stores and local grocery stores, basically everything one would need in walking distance to the school, I bite my lip when I realize I’m going to have to drive further out to get what I need. A fiddle with my app and a deep breath later, I’m almost twenty-five minutes out of the town’s border, the adorable town surrounding North U morphing into a subtle concrete jungle. Pretty skyscrapers are scattered through streets, a large mall is nearby, and I lose count on how many restaurants and takeout icons litter my app.
I’m rolling up at a mall that looks promising not two minutes later, parking my truck close to the entrance. I gather my purse and keys, take a deep breath, and jump out of the truck, slipping on a pair of shades and straightening my leather jacket before heading inside.
The cool air from the air conditioning makes me shiver as soon as I step over the threshold, hyper aware of the hustle and bustle of people as they go about their everyday lives. No matter how much effort I put into trying to ignore them all, I can’t help old habits, and I find myself looking over my shoulder regularly as though I’m going to find them lurking nearby.
Shaking my head, I go in search of a store that will sell most of what I’m looking for. It takes some hunting, but I eventually find a store that sells damn near everything. Grabbing a cart from nearby, I begin my search for comforters, curtains, and other bits I could use to make my new room a little more homely. Since I have the funds, thanks to Mack, I can easily splurge a little on some comforts I wouldn’t have even considered before. I’ll just need to find a job nearby that will work around my class schedule.
So, arms crossed over the cart, I leisurely stroll down each aisle, perusing while also aware of my surroundings… just in case. Logically, I know they couldn’t find me. I’ve moved around too much, changed my surname, and made sure I left very little if any trace of myself as I wandered through life. The last trace of Juniper Henley disappeared the night she managed to get away from the last foster pack, never to be seen again. If I’ve been as careful as I think I’ve been, then there won’t be a single clue as to my whereabouts, meaning they won’t find me.
Distracted by my thoughts, I almost stroll straight past the section I’m looking for. I spend some time looking through different comforters, sheets, and cozy blankets, all colors available that make my skin crawl. Several remind me of the pastel pixie, and I find myself rolling my eyes before promptly moving on.
But then I see it. A flash of dark purple that lures my attention away from everything else on display. I’m reaching for the glossy comforter color only a shade darker than my hair, dropping it into my cart without so much as a pause. From there, I find a dark-gray bed spread, matching cushions, and dark-gray curtains that will block the light. By the time I’m done with bedding, I have far too many cushions and several blankets and throws that I don’t actually need but can’t seem to leave behind.
Rolling my eyes at myself and my clear lack of impulse control when it comes to comfy things, I head to the checkout, ringing everything up and almost passing out when I hear the total. Still, I pay the woman at checkout, physically unable to return anything.
I’m shaking my head as I leave the mall, several bags filled with things I could have done without but bought like I was compelled to do so. I’m definitely going to need a new job, and pronto, especially if I’m going to be spending money like it grows on trees. I almost feel guilty, a sense of regret pooling in my stomach for having spent money on so many things I’ve gone without for years. Maybe I should take some things back. I mean, who really needs three cozy blankets and six cushions? And, as much as I love the black-out curtains, I’m sure I could find a cheaper alternative.
I’m still debating with myself as I throw all of the bags in the truck, eyeing everything while chewing my lower lip. It’s too much. I should definitely take some things back. I mean, I need the money more than I need nice, comfy things that would make me feel better.
It’s what I keep telling myself, even as I shut the truck door and turn, only to collide into a brick fucking wall. Wait, that’s not right. I didn’t park anywhere near a damned wall. A car, yes, but not an immovable structure. Yet, the sudden collision with something hard and unrelenting has me teetering in my heeled boots, a set of hands sprouting from the wall catching me before my ass meets the unforgiving concrete floor of the parking lot.
It takes me a moment to realize I’m suspended in the air, my eyes clenched tight in preparation for the fall, one that never comes. I’m a little slow on the uptake, my eyes blinking open in a daze, only to find a fucking gorgeous man holding me upright, saving my ass from meeting the concrete. His short, honey-blonde hair is pushed back is a faux hawk, cut short on the sides from what I can see. He’s built, impressively so, but not overdone to the point of bulging. He clearly works out, defined muscles outlined in the dark-gray shirt that wraps around him like a Christmas gift come early. And let’s not mention the familiar, pretty, deep-blue eyes that sparkle down at me, concern flashing in their depths as he eyes me with a pinched brow.
Wait. Why the fuck do I recognize those eyes?
And the flat line those kissable lips are pressed in, and his eyebrows dip lower as that stormy gaze runs over every single one of my features, and the mirroring shock that beams at me through a stunned gaze I can feel on my own face.
“Sorry. Wasn’t looking where I was going,” I murmur slowly, as though I’m drugged as I peer up at a somewhat familiar face, hoping the hands gripping my arms will release me so I can climb into my truck and disappear into a fucking void that I hope will swallow me whole.
They don’t, stealing my hopes and dreams from right under my feet.
Oh, no. Those strong, capable hands only tighten, squeezing my biceps hard enough that my eyes snap to his once more.
It’s only then that time seems to stand still, the recognition of those stormy blues finally registering in my mind. The chiseled jaw that used to be softened by youth. The straight nose that was almost broken during a football game against a team that was out for blood. The short hair that used to be a smidge longer, forcing me to move it from his face every now and then.
And with that realization, my other senses awaken. The feel of his larger hands, hands that used to be scrawny and soft, now gripping me firmly and securely. The heat of his body seeping into mine, his filled out and defined body so close that I can almost feel every ridge against me. But the most distinguishable, the most fucking obvious thing that cements the person holding me upright, is the familiar but stronger than before scent of ginger and spice. An aroma that was only faint as we grew up. A tickle of the senses. A tease now turned into an enveloping of one's senses. A scent that now overpowers all rational thought, that begs for me to sink into the familiar hold, bare my neck, and whine as I beg for him to do anything but hold me tightly as he looks down at me like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. I can relate.
Mouth parting in shock, my body reacting like a betraying bitch as it tries to lean closer, I stare wide eyed at Creek fucking Whitlock as he peers down at me in equal amounts of shock. It’s like my brain stutters, the reboot button having been pressed one too many times, and I do nothing but gape at the man who used to be one fifths of the pack I thought I’d eventually be bonded to.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
“Juno?” Creek rasps, hands sliding down my arms, scrawny compared to him, until he reaches my clammy hands. Time stands still the moment his skin meets mine, and I can do nothing but gape at the man that used to be the boy I used to dream about. Still fucking dream about. One of the boys I thought would have forgotten me after all this time.
Jesus fucking Christ.