16. Zoe
Zoe
Flashes of dark hair and green eyes play in my memory as my breath stops.
Cameron. It has to be. He's the only person who's asked me to dinner. Even without that part, I think I would've known it was him. I'm not sure how, but I would.
I flip the page before Viv can catch sight of the note.
Cliff is the only person who knows about my interaction with Cameron, and though I don't think there is a problem with Viv being aware of it, I don’t want to get into that story so early in the morning.
I want to flip back to the page and read the note over and over, even though a single glance is all it took to memorize it.
How did he get my notebook? I can’t think of a time I’ve left my bag alone, except when it’s in my room. When Viv and I were in the library, the notebook was right beside me on the table.
Did he sneak into my room? He couldn't have. There has to be another explanation.
Is it bad that I'm kind of flattered that that one conversation with me was enough to break into my room and write me a note? I know I should be scared, but if he wanted to hurt me, he would've already.
Right?
Gods, I can't think like this. His actions prove just how dangerous he is. Stalking is not romantic, Zoe. It's a precursor to violence. I shudder at the thought.
Viv looks at me out of the corner of her eye.
“You good?”
“Yeah, should’ve worn a sweater. Just a little cold.”
"Okay…" I don't think she believes me.
A body flops into the seat next to Viv, and when I lean around her to say good morning to Warren, I am met with a dark, cold glare, not the blue eyes I was expecting.
Ray drags his gaze over me, expression free of anything but disdain, before grunting and looking away.
“Morning, Viv.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Get out of here, Ray. I’m still mad at you. You were a dick to Zoe."
“It's no big deal. I was drunk.”
She drops her voice to a hiss to prevent the room from hearing her, but the words are still biting and clear. “You yelled at my friend and accused her of being a liar and a knot chaser! You got one of your weird friends to sniff her!” That part was violating.
“I said I was sorry.” Does Viv hear how petulant he sounds?
“When?”
Yeah, when? I didn’t get an apology. Not that I’d be eager to accept it, but it would go a long way if he admitted he was wrong.
“That same night, in the woods. She was walking home, and I stopped her to apologize.” I try to wipe the shock off my face at his statement. He flashes me a grin that has no doubt made many people fawn over him throughout his life, but it makes me want to punch him. “Didn’t I, Zoe?”
He’s daring me to say otherwise. To tell her he kissed me, and that I didn’t push him away. It's like he wants our friendship to be strained.
Would Viv get mad that I kept this from her? It’s not like it meant anything. It was a one-time thing. He was drunk and surprised me, which is why I didn't push him away.
That's all it was.
“He did. We’re good, Viv.”
Ray’s smile transforms into a pleased smirk. “Good girl,” he mouths, and I want to throw my shoe at him.
Against my will, I grow warm on my face and between my thighs. I have to duck my head so Viv doesn’t see the blush that stains my cheeks.
“Oh. Okay. Well. Don't be a dick again!"
Warren slips into the chair beside me. “Who’s being a dick?”
“Ray. He yelled at Zoe at the bonfire this weekend. Which, by the way, where were you?”
Warren barrels past her question. “Why’d he yell at her?”
“I'm right here between you guys.” I wave my hand, pushing Warren back by the shoulder to stop him from leaning over me. The touch is a familiar one I've done hundreds of times before. “It’s no big deal, Warren; we’ve moved on.”
Professor Hayes raps on his desk. “Alright, class. Today’s lesson may seem tedious, but it’s crucial for the smooth functioning of our society. Let’s talk about heat and rut leave, and how we can make that easier for everyone.
The moment I walk into my room, something feels off.
The only problem is that I have no idea if something is actually different, or if this is my mind ruminating on the note Cameron left in my notebook.
Everything looks to be in place. My bed is still sloppy and unmade with grey sheets. My desk is a riot of papers, and the window is still closed. I’ve almost convinced myself that everything is normal when I see a flash of deep blue hanging in the corner of my room.
In a beam of sunshine, facing the chapel, is a dress almost the same color as the one I wore to the bonfire. When I run my fingers over the fabric, it slips through them like water. This dress must have cost a fortune.
The skirt falls to the floor, the bodice is boned to dramatically tuck in my waist, and the heart-shaped neckline is deep.
This is the dress someone wears on a special occasion. Forget where it came from. When would I even have an opportunity to wear this?
As I turn it on the hanger to see what the back looks like, a note flutters to the floor.
You looked so beautiful in this color.
I knew, on some level, that this dress was from Cameron, but seeing the note, in the same handwriting as the one in my notebook, makes my chest pulse with anxiety. I'm breathless, and I don't know if it's in a good way.
There is a part of me that definitely feels excited at his attention. It's been weeks since that moment in the library, and yet he's giving me his attention. Two notes and a dress in one day make me think that I made as much of an impression on him then as he did on me.
He was here this morning. While I was ruminating over how he got access to my notebook, he was slipping into my room, leaving me a beautiful dress and proving he’d been watching me. I look around my room as if I'd see echoes of him if I concentrate hard enough.
Why do this? What is his goal? Does he want me to fear him? Or does he get off on this?
If he’s following me, if he can get into my room, why doesn’t he talk to me?
I should ignore it.
I should put this dress outside my door, let someone take it, and throw the note away.
I should.
But I don’t.
I tuck the scrap of paper into my notebook, right on top of the one he wrote in there, as if it were some sort of treasure, then take off my shoes and undress.
I don’t know why I do it. There must be something wrong with me, a piece of me that is broken, because in the back of my mind, there’s a little voice urging me to tease, to taunt. To make it clear that if anyone has the power here, it’s me.
My clothes fall from my fingers to the floor, and I turn toward the window and unclasp my bra. It slips down my arms, revealing my breasts to whoever gets the urge to look up and into my room. My pendant comes off next, leaving me bare except for a scant pair of panties.
I pull down the zipper on the side of the beautiful blue dress and step into it, luxuriating in how it feels against my heated flesh as I drag it up my body.
I am on fire with desire, and I grow slick between my thighs. I try to ignore it, but it's impossible when I imagine the Alpha watching the show I'm putting on for him.
When my breasts are tucked away in the top of the dress, I pull the zipper closed and smooth out the front.
It fits like a glove. Like whoever made it had a form of my body as they sewed it.
I complete a slow spin in front of the window before crossing to my mirror and taking a look at myself. My hair almost glitters in the sunlight, and my eyes, an odd shade of copper I share with my mother, seem lit from within.
People describe Omegas as possessing an otherworldly form of beauty. Cliff and Viv all but confirmed it when they spoke about how being around Omegas makes them feel.
For a moment, in this dress, I can picture myself that way. I can see a beauty I’ve never noticed reflected in the mirror.
And then, before my eyes, I watch my teeth extend into points within my smile.
I blink, and my mouth is back to normal, but I cannot deny what I saw.
This isn’t like the voice in the back of my head at the ceremony. I can’t explain this away with nerves or fear.
My teeth sharpened. I saw them. They stretched into points, pressing into my lips and leaving indents.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
My teeth sharpened.
Betas don’t have sharp teeth.
I bare my teeth at my reflection, willing them to stretch into those points again, but they stay blunt. I run my tongue over the flat tops of them, and nothing happens.
But I saw it. It happened. I may not be able to force it to happen again, but I know that it did.
It did, and it means my fear has come true, and I can no longer ignore what I have been trying to bury since my ceremony.
I am not a Beta.
When I touched the garnet, the warmth I felt and the voice in the back of my mind were real, and I was Blessed by Ilota, the Fire Goddess.
Remember whose daughter you are.
The Daughter of Garnet.