Chapter 8
Flora
“Ican’t thank you enough for this,” Summer said as she barreled into my apartment, Tupperware in hand.
“You know you’re welcome anytime,” I told her, following her into my tiny apartment.
“I’ve got cookies for you,” she declared, handing me the Tupperware.
“Are these ones edible?” I asked cautiously. Her baking endeavors were somewhat hit-or-miss, I had discovered.
Summer’s face fell slightly, and she grimaced. “Maybe. Either way, I also got you an iced coffee.” She smiled, holding up the beverage.
“That, I will accept,” I said, taking both items from her.
Summer was one of the few friends I had made, and it had been a total accident. My parents refused to believe the cost of living in California, so I was left pretty much on my own when it came to financing things. To help my bank account, I decided to take on some tutoring work.
The first time I met Summer, I instantly liked her. She was doing her best to get a bookkeeping qualification while being a single mother. Her son was only a year old, so her schedule was somewhat scattered.
Most tutors had told her flat out that they wouldn’t help her, because they wanted a student who could commit to the same time slot every week.
I, on the other hand, was desperate for money and, after a few sessions, realized she was really determined to make it work.
So, several tutoring sessions slowly turned into a friendship.
“Anytime I send him to day care, he gets sick. I swear it’s a breeding ground for germs.” Summer groaned as she sank into my lumpy armchair.
“Unfortunately, from what I understand, that pretty much describes day care,” I said, coming over to join her.
She placed her textbooks on the small coffee table and turned to me. “Well, it’s not like I can keep him at home all day. I have classes to attend.”
“You know I’m not judging, and I’m always here with notes to help,” I said, picking up one of her books.
We had a few classes that overlapped, but she took most of hers online. There were only a select few that required in-person attendance.
“I swear I would have flunked out months ago if it hadn’t been for you, Flora,” Summer said. “There isn’t enough iced coffee in the world. Thank you.”
“You know I’m happy to help,” I reminded her.
I truly was. Summer’s dedication to her son, Milo, was admirable. I didn’t know all the details about how she came to be a single mother, but I knew there was no father in the picture. She was doing it all on her own.
And there I was, simply trying to get through college on my own, without a child, and still struggling. I could only imagine how difficult it was for her. Yet she always remained positive.
“Okay, before we get into the numbers, how are you doing?” Summer asked, taking a sip of her own iced coffee.
“You know me. Same old, same old,” I replied, picking up my drink. Hazelnut iced latte. Perfection.
Summer shook her head. “Flora, you are such a sweet omega. You really should try dating. University is one of the best places to meet alphas. There are so many options.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you really think I’m the kind of omega who should date?”
“I think you should be dating, but I understand the concept is terrifying and that clinging to what you know is comfortable.”
“Comfortable?” I scoffed. “What do you think was comfortable about moving halfway across the country to study at a university I had never visited?” I relived the process, exhilarating and scary all at once.
Every day had felt like I was walking on a tightrope, and I didn’t know if I’d ever find my footing
“Okay, I’ll admit that was brave. But you did that nearly two years ago. When are you going to branch out?”
“Once I’ve reached my goals—namely getting my degree,” I said pointedly.
Summer groaned. “Flora, I can’t have a social life because I’m a single mother. Why can’t I live vicariously through you?”
“Because you’re a social butterfly, and I’m not,” I told her.
“You don’t need to be a social butterfly to make a few close connections. There are also dating apps you can try if you don’t want to meet anyone out in public. Clubs are a good place to meet people, though…”
She had a point. I had downloaded the same dating app several times, trying to muster the courage to make a profile, but every time—before I even started looking for a picture to upload—I deleted it in a blind panic, usually hiding my phone and ignoring it for several hours in case potential dates would come crawling out of the screen.
Summer opened her mouth to speak, but paused when she noticed the small stack of letters on the coffee table.
“What are these?” she asked. “Love letters?” Her tone grew excited.
“Calm down,” I said, holding my hands up. “I’m pretty sure they’re just a prank from the mean girl who lives on the top floor.” I tried to sound certain, but my gaze flicked to the window, half-expecting to see some sign that we weren’t alone.
“She’s nursed a vendetta against me ever since our grocery deliveries coincided a few months ago, and the driver refused to walk her groceries up so many flights of stairs.”
Summer snorted. “Well, that’s her own problem. These letters are cute, though.”
I shook my head. The letters had been arriving for a few months, and they were always complimentary—far too complimentary.
Between the secret admirer letters and the profiles my mother kept sending me of eligible alphas, I felt like I was drowning in potential matches, none of whom had two brain cells to rub together.
“It’s creepy. I’ve been feeling off all week, and they are just the cherry on top. Now, are you here to talk about my lack of a love life, or are you here to learn statistics?” I asked.
Summer pouted. “Can’t I do both? The sitter has my son for three whole hours.”
“Then we’d better use those three hours to make sure you’re completely up-to-date, so when he gets another virus from day care, you’re still on track.”
She groaned, sinking back into the armchair. “That’s a low blow, Flora—but also very true. Okay, torture me with some numbers, then.”
The next day, I did all the normal things, going to class, studying in the library. My life was based on routine, and I didn’t mind one bit. It was safe, predictable.
Yet, for some reason, my routine wasn’t working. It didn't feel right.
I had gone straight home from the cafeteria. My plan had been to study for longer in the library, but I was feeling all kinds of itchy and wanted to be at home.
Only, something about home didn't feel right, either. From the moment I opened the door, there was an overwhelming sense of wrong. My skin felt too tight and annoying and my mind couldn’t settle.
Chewing on my thumbnail as I wandered around my apartment, I took in all the details that I was so used to. Had I left something in the wrong place? I sometimes forgot things. I still hadn’t found my notebook. I thought that I might have buried it in my nest, but perhaps I lost it while on campus.
I had been living in that same apartment for almost two years, so I knew it like the back of my hand. The problem was that nothing felt right anymore. I couldn't put my finger on what it was, but everything felt slightly off.
It was driving my omega side crazy. I wasn't obsessed with cleaning, but I preferred a tidy space. It was a lot easier to think in a space that was ordered, as opposed to chaos.
That was probably why I enjoyed studying at home so much. I could control the environment.
So why did it feel like the control was slowly slipping through my fingers?
Every time I had come home, something hadn’t felt right, and this cold, seeping, dark dread crept into my stomach.
It was only getting worse.
When I padded over to my small desk, my eyes landed on an envelope on the top. Heavy cream paper, with no address, just my name across the front.
It was another letter.
There were no postage stamps, unlike the ones my mother sent me. Turning it over in my hands, I looked for any more information.
How had it been delivered? Someone didn’t push it through my door, instead it was neatly placed it on my desk.
Panic fluttered in my chest as it dawned on me what that meant. My heart rate skyrocketed as my vision blurred. Closing my eyes, I drew in a few ragged breaths, desperately trying to calm down.
Someone had been in my apartment.