Chapter 3
RYDER
Something weird was up with Ash.
Ryder pulled up to the garage in Noah’s borrowed car, parking at an angle close to the office door. He gave the hood a pat as he passed.
He’d been entwined with the Tellers almost as long as he could remember, but there were still things about them Ryder didn’t always get. The fact that Noah couldn’t be bothered to claim back his car after almost two weeks was one of them.
Ryder knew Noah caught rides with Eli, but still. This was his property. His hard-earned investment. And he was just … letting it go elsewhere.
But whatever. An easy ride was an easy ride. Ryder would take it, if it was offered. He still had a ways to go until he saved enough to buy a car decent enough to endure Ash’s handling without worry.
The office door was unlocked, but no one was behind the counter. Ryder headed to the back, not surprised to see the owner’s booted feet poking out from under a beater. Damon always liked to get work in before he was forced to suffer through the camaraderie of his employees.
“Yo,” Ryder called out. He didn’t bother raising his voice. Damon was the kind of freak who could work without music playing.
“Ryder? You on today?”
Damon slid out from under the car, wiping his hands on the rag tucked into his belt.
When he stood, he was big, even for an alpha.
Taller than Ryder, that was for sure, with broad shoulders, sandy blond hair, and neck tattoos Ryder had envied since day one.
His pheromones were something else, too—faintly electric, like crackling ozone.
He was a chill boss though. The kind of alpha that was secure enough in himself not to need to swing his big dick around just to feel good. And he’d hired Ryder fresh out of high school, his only experience the challenge of keeping his alpha dad’s piece-of-shit car running.
“Not on today,” Ryder told him. “Class. Brought you the full schedule.”
Damon took the offered paper with raised brows. “Couldn’t email?”
Ryder shrugged. “You like printouts. And I’m grabbing breakfast burritos next door.”
Damon turned his raised brows in the direction of the office. “Then where’s the hellion?”
“Sleeping it off.”
What Ash was sleeping off was the fucking question. And Ryder had no answer. The little shit kept insisting he was fine, back to normal or whatever, but he was sleeping way more than usual, and he was …
Well, he was fucking horny. Which wouldn’t usually have had Ryder complaining, except for Ash’s complete and utter unwillingness to address the fact that it was totally out of character.
If not for the fatigue aspect, Ryder might have written it all off as something to do with a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed, pain-in-the-ass alpha. But not even Spencer’s specific charms could induce comas.
Ryder forced himself to focus. Damon was looking over Ryder’s class schedule with a discerning eye. “Easy enough to work with.”
Ryder cocked a brow. “You gonna send me yours?”
Even though he was already somewhere in his early forties, Damon was auditing a class or two at the university, same as he’d done last semester and over the summer.
Apparently the garage’s accountant had majorly screwed him over a year or so ago, and he’d decided that expanding his education was the key to not getting fucked again.
Ryder thought there might be more to it—dude could have taken one accounting class and called it quits—but it was none of his fucking business, so …
Damon scoffed. “If you see me, just pretend you didn’t. I’ll cramp your style.”
Ryder scoffed right back. “Hardly.” It didn’t matter that Damon was older. He had that just-on-the-edge-of-dangerous alpha energy that had people dropping panties and boxers left and right. If Ryder gave a shit about his reputation, being seen with Damon could only improve it.
Damon folded the paper and tucked it into his faded jeans. He nodded to the door. “Go get your burritos, I’ll put you on the books for the next few months. Bring the hellion next time. He owes me more engineering puzzles.”
Ryder grunted his acknowledgment and headed out. He wasn’t someone prone to the warm and fuzzies, but it gave him a certain sense of satisfaction that his boss and Ash got along so well. It meant Damon didn’t mind letting Ash study in the office while Ryder was on shift.
Usually, Ash had a tendency to rub people the wrong way and didn’t give a shit that he was doing it. The same went for Ryder, but it took him longer to make enemies, since he didn’t run his mouth so goddamn much.
A hellion indeed.
Ryder grabbed the burritos from the hole-in-the-wall next to the garage and headed back to the apartment. He found Ash in their kitchen, doing something he was not supposed to be fucking doing.
Ryder snatched the mug away before Ash could start pouring. “No. Coffee.”
“Hey.” Ash scowled, trying to grab at the mug. “Fuck off.”
“It’s not finals week.” That was the only time Ash was allowed substantial caffeine.
Otherwise, he turned into the world’s worst jittery asshole, and it was always Ryder who had to clean up the mess.
Sometimes it was a funny fucking mess, but it was only the first day of classes, and Ryder had enough worries.
Ash made a sound of disgust. “I’ve been so damn tired. Maybe it’s my body letting me know it’s time to drink sludge with the big boys.” He batted his eyes at Ryder obnoxiously. “I’m all grown up, Daddy.”
Ryder pointed a finger. “Don’t.”
Ash only gave him an evil grin. For someone who’d been sleeping like it was his new job, Ash’s golden eyes were bright. Too bright. Almost glassy. Did he have a fucking fever again?
Ryder’s stomach sank. He turned away, pouring himself a cup of coffee and dumping the rest. Something was off with Ash, and that … wasn’t allowed.
It was like that story of the fish asking about the ocean, only to find out he’d been swimming in it all along. Ash was Ryder’s ocean. If something happened to him, Ryder went belly-up.
That probably wasn’t the moral of that fish story, but whatever.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
Ryder sipped his coffee, still facing toward the counter. “I’m not even looking at you.”
“Exactly.”
Ryder rolled his eyes. He rummaged in the paper bag he’d dropped on the counter before saving Ash from himself and turned, slapping a foil-clad burrito into Ash’s chest. “Eat your breakfast.”
Ash eagerly started ripping away the foil. At least his appetite was still the same—ferocious. “We taking Noah’s car?”
“Sure.”
The two of them had their first class of the day together.
Without discussing it, they’d saved a gen ed class or two for every semester, so they could have at least one together.
Otherwise, even if they tried to match the general shape of their schedule, Ash was in engineering land and Ryder was off hunting for symbolism in pretentious books.
They were good books, mostly. But still. Pretentious.
Ash took a savage bite out of his burrito. “If you stare at me like I’m dying during class,” he said, mumbling the words around his mouthful, “I’ll punch you in the dick.”
Ryder smirked at him. “Then what would you squeeze like a stress ball every night, bright eyes?”
“It’s not every night,” Ash grumbled.
But it had been—every single night since he’d first gotten sick last week—and it wasn’t like Ash at all.
Ryder gritted his teeth as he herded Ash out the door.
Something was definitely off.
Ash spotted him first because of course he did.
Spencer was across the quad from them in front of the stairs to the econ building. Finance major, he’d told Ryder and Ash once. Fucking typical.
Ash planted in place before Ryder could get them in the door of their own building, shamelessly gawking. By all appearances, Spencer was getting chewed out by another student, who looked to be maybe a female alpha or beta.
“What do you think he did?” Ash asked quietly.
“What do you think he did?”
“Noah says he hasn’t been sleeping around as much.”
Ryder had heard the same. And come to think of it, Ryder thought he’d seen Spencer with that same girl at a party around this time last year.
Spencer wasn’t usually a repeat offender, so maybe she was just holding on to old grudges.
Or maybe he’d rammed her car in the parking lot and Ryder and Ash were making shitty assumptions.
“You think it’s because he’s in love with Noah?”
Ash meant the lack of sleeping around. Ryder grunted noncommittally.
He didn’t think it was exactly that. He’d originally come to the same conclusion, that Spencer was in love with Ash’s brother in a real way.
That was until Noah and Eli had gone public and Spencer had reacted to Eli with the same amount of enthusiasm he gave a good protein shake—entirely too fucking much.
Unless Spencer was in love with both Eli and Noah (and pretty boy Chase, for that matter), it was something else.
If Ryder was pressed, he might say Spencer had the same issue as himself, the reason Ryder hadn’t fucked anything more than his fist or Ash’s hand in about six months.
When a person had everything else they wanted or needed from someone already, meaningless sex started to feel pretty fucking … meaningless.
It was possible Spencer wasn’t in love with his two roommates, but he definitely fucking loved them more than anyone else on this dismal campus.
So, yeah. The no fucking thing made sense to Ryder.
Although, if he’d been asked a year ago, Ryder wouldn’t have bet on him and Noah’s annoying alpha roommate having anything in common.
Spencer had only been background noise, and kind of irritating background noise at that.
But it was impossible to spend increasing lengths of time with him and not become a little intrigued.
And it wasn’t his pretty fucking face either. It was the strange, selfish edge to him that was somehow equally off-putting and compelling.
Spencer just wanted everything so obviously.
He was never shy about letting people know and letting them know often.
He wanted people around him. He wanted the full attention of his “besties” at all fucking times.
Until recently, he wanted to fuck anyone and everyone and let his pure fuckboy intentions be enough to keep things kosher when it so clearly didn’t fucking work that way.
It was frustrating to watch. Like a train wreck with a nice ass. But Spencer was also so goddamn honest about it all—even when it painted him in a shitty light—that it was hard not to admire it in a way.
What would it be like to be an open book like that?
Fucking painful, probably.
Ryder and Ash watched as the angry student finally stalked away. Spencer stood there after she left, far enough away that his thoughts were for once a mystery.
And then he caught sight of Ryder and Ash and began waving to them with all the enthusiasm of a small child at day care pickup.
Ryder flipped him off. Ash did the same. Even at this distance, they could see Spencer’s beaming smile in response.
Jesus.
That was enough of that.
Ryder cleared his throat, and Ash finally turned, leading them into the building.
They both needed a world history class, and they’d chosen one called, simply enough, The Ancient Greeks.
Ryder suspected Ash would sleep through most of the lectures and then beg Ryder for his notes.
And by “beg,” he meant demand them with threats of violence and not a single ounce of shame.
And Ryder would hand them over, because what was his was Ash’s and vice versa.
Despite the Spencer distraction, they’d made it with a few minutes to spare, so they took their seats toward the back of the lecture hall and waited for class to begin.
Someone in front of them must have been eating candy or something, because the air smelled sweet. Ryder breathed it in. It wasn’t unpleasant.
Ash kept shifting in place. Back and forth, back and forth. When he couldn’t seem to settle, Ryder placed a restraining hand on Ash’s thigh. “Did you drink some of that coffee before I took it away?”
“No, I just—” Ash didn’t finish his sentence. He just squirmed some more. He was getting looks.
Ryder glared until the looks turned away.
“Quit squirming,” Ryder whispered when the instructor started lecturing. It was hard to concentrate on his notes when Ash was sliding back and forth like he had to take a piss. And while Ryder didn’t give much of a shit about his grades, Ash got foul when he received anything less than a B.
“Someone’s wearing cologne,” Ash whispered back. “Smells good.”
“The candy smell?” Ryder asked with surprise. Ash didn’t usually have a sweet tooth.
Ash shook his head. “The woodsy smell. Like cedar but also … soil. I don’t know. It’s heavy, but it’s nice.”
Every muscle in Ryder’s body tensed.
Ryder’s pheromones had notes of cedar. When he was stressed or aroused, they grew richer, lost their dry notes and became something more like damp forest and warm, wet soil.
But the person closest to him in the world—a certain Ash Teller—had never mentioned those facts because, as someone who was unpresented, Ash couldn’t fucking smell them.
Ryder breathed in deep. The sweet smell had grown stronger and more defined. It had notes of caramel with an edge of char. Like burned marshmallows.
Ryder leaned into Ash. He inhaled again. The sweet scent grew stronger. Ryder’s traitorous dick—not at all on board with his growing concern—thickened against his thigh.
“Ash—”
But Ash didn’t let him finish. “Ryder,” he gasped, clutching at Ryder’s arm in clear panic, his nails digging into Ryder’s skin.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m— Oh fuck.” In all their days together, Ryder had never heard him sound so freaked out. “Ryder, I’m wet.”
In an instant, everything clicked.
Holy fucking shit. How could Ryder have been so fucking stupid?
He stood, grabbing their bags and shoving Ash into the aisle. He ignored the looks around them and the professor’s mid-lecture pause. “Campus health,” Ryder growled, leading Ash out the door. “Right now.”