Chapter Ten
Next Wednesday comes far too soon. When I get to the tutoring room, Connor’s already there.
Two large coffees from the best café in town sit in front of him.
He slides one across the table. I catch it and glance at the label.
He remembered my order, of course. Does he think he can bribe me into friendship?
It would be easy, to slip back into comfortable familiarity with him. To let the taste of that coffee take me back to chilly fall mornings where I wiggled atop his car’s heated seats, trying to get warm. To meandering walks together through fields coated with crunching dead leaves.
I slide the drink to the side and begin unpacking my notebooks.
He looks at the material I’m pulling out, including a copy of the book his English class is reading right now.
“You don’t have to actually tutor me, you know.”
“That’s what I’m being paid to do.”
“What if I pay you not to do it?”
I roll my eyes.
“Seriously. You obviously need the money. Why are you working so much? I thought you had a scholarship. With your grades and a school this small, they must have given you a full ride.”
“Scholarships don't cover much outside of tuition.” Especially black-market omega suppressants .
“If you need help, me and Dad have plenty, you know. And you’re family.”
“I don't need your charity.” Besides, Mac Masters already spends a pretty penny on my monthly upkeep .
“It’s not charity . For-profit college costs are ridiculous. Consider it a public service.”
“I’m not arguing with you about this, Connor. If you don’t want to be tutored , then just do your assigned reading or something. I have a headache.”
He frowns. “Are you getting enough sleep?”
“Enough, Masters! You’re not my fucking doctor.”
“Not yet,” he winks.
My mind plunges into catastrophic thinking. Going into Kanata’s clinic and seeing him there. A picture of him and Cassandra in a cutesy Christmas card on the wall. They wouldn’t be able to procreate, so they’d have a golden retriever puppy. Maybe he’d even ask me if I wanted to be their surrogate.
“—morning shifts at the café, nights at the grill. Eighteen upper-level credits hours, according to Mac.”
“Talking to Dad again, are we?”
“You’re pushing yourself too hard. You're gonna burn out.”
“I don't have the luxury of burning out.”
“That's exactly what someone on the fast track to burnout would say.”
“I can handle myself, Connor.”
I can tell he wants to argue more. Before, he would. But he's still treating me with kid gloves. Like I'm fragile. He pulls out a textbook and starts reading, occasionally taking notes in the margins with his pen. Imagine not having to rent your textbooks. Not like us, indeed.
His fingers are so long and graceful as they slide over the paper to turn the page. I can’t stop staring at him.
I take out my own book and try to study, but the words blur together in front of me. I begin to nod off.
“Take a nap, Birdy. I don’t mind.”
“No,” I grumble.
“What if I promise to work on my English essay while you're napping?”
“Not tired.”
He huffs. “Why won’t you drink the coffee, then? Have your tastes changed?”
If only .
I ignore him and go back to my reading. It’s too easy to fall asleep near him. His scent is a soothing, buoyant cloud filling the room, lulling me under.
Connor drops a book on the table, and I jerk awake. A patch of drool crusts my cheek to the sleek textbook page, and the shadows in the room have shifted.
“Fuck. What time is it?”
“Five till.”
“Oh, thank god. I can’t deal with Francine’s shit tonight. You care if we end five minutes early? I’ve been cutting it close when the lights downtown don’t go my way.”
“Alright. But I get to claim those five minutes later.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine.”
I eye the untouched latte as I gather my things.
I want to guzzle down that coffee with every fiber of my being, but I can’t send the wrong message—can’t accept his gifts.
I have to keep Connor at a distance, or he’ll find a way to worm under my carefully crafted armor.
I toss it in the trash on my way out the room.
Next week, I’m a little more prepared for Connor. Or so I think, until I walk in the door. He’s fresh from a shower, damp hair curling around his ears, and the scent of soap and clean skin bright in the air.
Again, two coffees sit in front of him. But this time he’s gone for the kill. On a napkin next to my drink is a double chocolate muffin just begging to be eaten.
I blink a few times before sitting down.
“Hello, Alanna.” He slides the coffee and muffin over to me with a quiet glare.
“Hello,” I respond automatically.
“How has your day been?”
“More people kill themselves on Wednesday than any other day.”
“Morbid as ever, I see.”
I have to get more suppressants. This morning I was met by a dwindling orange bottle in the medicine cabinet behind my mirror. If he affects me like this on a double dose, I can’t risk finding out how intense it will be on a lowered one.
Thirty minutes into our session, Connor’s tipped back in his chair, feet resting on the windowsill, reading a book. It’s not one assigned for his class. He makes this room feel small. His presence is too big—impossible to ignore.
There’s a knock at the door.
Connor glances at me, then folds his limbs back into place and stands up.
I ignore it. Probably just some lost freshman. The library’s got rooms labeled 27 A and 27 B , but half the letters are weathered or missing.
Connor opens the door, keeping one hand on it and the other on the door frame, almost completely blocking my view.
He looks whoever’s at the door up and down. “Who are you?”
“I’m Lance. I’m here for Alanna.” Lance sticks out his hand for a shake, and Connor ignores it.
Fuck . I thought my complaining to Lance in class the other day about my lost lunch break went unnoticed.
“Are you now?”
He glances at something in Lance’s hand. “That for her?”
I stand up and push my hair behind my ear, bending to the side to give Lance a little wave through Connor’s mass blocking the doorway.
“Hey, Lance. Come on in.”
He performs a similar duck and wave. “Hey, Lani. I was picking up food before class and thought I’d bring you some. I know you're always running on empty.”
“ Lani? ” Connor repeats the nickname like it’s left a disgusting taste in his mouth.
He turns to me, still blocking the doorway. “What is this? We have thirty minutes left.”
“Twenty-five,” I correct.
Connor’s eyes light with fire.
“Let him in. He’s just dropping off my lunch.”
That does nothing to calm him down. He slams the door in Lance’s face.
“Connor!”
There’s a loud knock on the door, and Connor’s lip curls. He leans back against the door and focuses that molten glare on me.
“Why is he here?”
“Lance?”
“ Another alpha .”
I sigh. “I mentioned that I was tutoring during my Wednesday lunch break now. Guess he took it upon himself to bring me food.”
“This is your lunch break? Why didn’t you say anything?”
I shrug. “I can always eat at the grill.” Not true, after Francine’s recent staff lecture about coming early if we want to take advantage of our ‘generous’ twenty-five percent employee discount, but he didn’t need to know that.
“You throw the coffee I bring you away, but you’ll eat his food? Are you seeing him?”
“No! He’s just a classmate. Now open the door. You’re being irrational.”
“I don’t like it. This hour is mine .”
I ignore the thrill that sends shooting to my core.
“The sooner you?—”
“If I let him in, you’re going to eat my muffin,” he growls.
I can’t help but laugh. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“I’m not eating your fucking apology muffins, Connor.”
Something shifts in his eyes, then he shrugs, twists the lock on the door, and sits back down.
I’m fuming now. I march toward the door, and Connor kicks his feet up against the wall to block my path.
I huff out a breath and go to step over him. But he’s tall, and it’s awkward—like trying to step over an especially high baby gate, but that baby gate is a snarling alpha.
“Uh-uh.”
He snakes a leg around mine and yanks me toward him. Off balance, I stumble into him. I clutch at his chest to right myself. My waist is trapped between his thighs.
I go completely still. My heart thunders in my chest. He’s so muscular and warm beneath his clothes.
And this close, his scent is potent. It’s been so long since I’ve touched him.
I want to stop, but if I move my hands, he’ll be supporting my entire body weight with his. I’m practically in his lap already.
His eyes are dark and searching as he looks down at me. He tips my chin up with his index finger and squeezes me with his thighs.
“Are you going to eat my muffin?”
I nod silently.
“Good girl. Now get rid of him.”
Heat pulses between my legs, stronger than I’ve felt in years. If I slick right now, I’m fucked. Literally.
Then Connor opens his legs, and I slide onto the floor. I spit and hiss at him as I struggle to stand then make my way to the door. I’m flushed and out of breath when I swing it open.
Lance is standing there, looking confused. I take the bag of food from his hands as Connor scowls at us.
“Sorry, Lance. Thank you so much for the food. We’re in the thick of it right now, though. Gotta get back to it.”
“Uhh, right.”
“Leave, Lance.”
I shoot a glare over my shoulder at Connor, then flash Lance a chagrined smile.
“Ignore him.”
“Wouldn’t advise that,” Connor says.
“You’re Connor Masters,” Lance says. “The swimmer.”
“In the flesh.”
“You’re in tutoring? I thought you were a triple threat, dude. Alpha, athlete, uhm…I can’t think of a word for smart that begins with ‘A.’”
“Astute,” Connor provides.
“Yeah. Good one.”
Connor gives him a razor grin. “I wanted to get Crane here alone.”
I jab Connor in the neck with my elbow.
Lance leans into the doorframe. “What are you two studying?”
“None of your business,” Connor says.
“English Romantics.”
“Really? I could use help with my paper in that class?—“
“She doesn’t have time to help you.”