Chapter 21 Temporary #2
"See? This is why I cook. For the appreciation. Not because I am good at it, though I am excellent at it, but because people like you actually notice when things smell good instead of just grunting like some Alphas I could name."
He does not say Rafe's name.
He does not have to.
Raphael ends his call and slides his phone into his pocket, crossing the living room to join us in the kitchen area. His movements carry the same unhurried confidence I noticed yesterday, the calm authority of someone who does not need to rush because he knows the world will wait for him.
"Good news," he announces, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. "I have been working with university administration on the housing situation since early this morning. There was an error in the original system."
Everyone's attention focuses on him.
"Rafe was never supposed to be in this particular dorm," Raphael continues, his French accent curling around the words with a precision that makes them sound more official than they probably are.
"The assignment was a clerical mistake. When he requested a new entry pass this morning, the system flagged the discrepancy and denied the request."
My brows furrow.
"Wait. He requested a new entry pass? Does that mean..."
"That would explain why he never showed up last night," Etienne finishes quietly, closing his book. "He could not get back in. The keycard was deactivated."
Cal snorts, though there is a complicated mix of emotions on his face, amusement warring with something that looks like concern.
"So he has been locked out of his own dorm? Since when?"
"Since approximately midnight," Raphael answers. "According to the housing office, he tried to enter multiple times before eventually giving up. They are not sure where he spent the night, but it was not here."
Locked out. Literally locked out of the apartment by a clerical error that his own brother flagged to the administration.
That is either cosmic justice or a very calculated move. Maybe both.
Before anyone can comment further, a knock sounds at the door.
Sharp. Insistent. The kind of knock that carries frustration in every rap.
Cal sets down his spatula and crosses to the door, pulling it open to reveal exactly the person I expected.
Rafe stands in the hallway, his gray eyes blazing with the fury of a man who has spent the night displaced and has arrived to demand answers.
His clothes are the same ones he wore yesterday, wrinkled now from hours of sleep in an unfamiliar location.
His sandy hair is disheveled, his jaw shadowed with stubble, and the leather and burnt cedar scent that rolls off him is spiked with aggression.
His gaze lands on Raphael, who is still on the phone, and his expression darkens further.
"You," Rafe snarls, stepping into the apartment without invitation. "You did this. You got me locked out of my own fucking dorm."
Raphael lifts one finger, a casual gesture requesting patience, and continues speaking into the phone.
"Oui, just let Rafe know the verdict, merci.
" He ends the call and slides the device into his pocket before turning to face his younger brother with an expression that can only be described as serenely unbothered.
"I did not do anything except notify the administration of an existing error.
The system locked you out. I simply explained why. "
Rafe's jaw clenches so hard I can hear his teeth grind.
"You piece of..."
Another knock at the door interrupts his building explosion.
This knock is different. Professional. Three measured raps that carry the cadence of official business rather than personal grievance.
Cal, who never quite made it back to his bacon, opens the door again.
Miss Phillips stands in the hallway, her expression warm but professional, a folder of paperwork tucked under one arm and a new keycard visible in her hand.
Her dark hair is pulled back in its usual sleek ponytail, and her eyes take in the tense tableau of the apartment with the practiced assessment of someone who has seen Alpha posturing before and finds it mildly exhausting.
"Good morning," she says, stepping inside with the confidence of a woman who knows her presence supersedes whatever drama was unfolding. "I apologize for the early visit, but I wanted to handle this personally rather than sending it through the usual channels."
She turns to Rafe, extending the keycard.
"Mr. Beaumont, your housing assignment has been corrected. You have been temporarily reassigned to the unit next door while we sort out permanent arrangements. Same floor, same building, different apartment number. This keycard will give you access."
Rafe stares at the keycard like it is a personal insult.
"Next door," he repeats flatly. "You are moving me next door."
"Temporarily," Miss Phillips emphasizes. "The permanent resolution will depend on several factors, including pack status confirmations and student preferences."
The irony is not lost on me.
Rafe is being removed from my immediate space, evicted from the apartment he has been treating like his personal kingdom since I arrived.
But he will still be literally on the other side of the wall.
Close enough to hear through the thin dorm construction.
Close enough that his scent will probably drift through the vents.
Close enough to be a constant, irritating presence without having the authority to actually be present.
The universe has a sense of humor, and it is petty.
Miss Phillips turns to me, her expression softening.
"Miss Rose, I also wanted to check in with you.
This arrangement," she gestures to the apartment at large, "is still considered temporary while we process your housing request. If the current situation works for you, we can formalize it.
If you would still prefer a different assignment, we can discuss options in two weeks.
Just keep me posted on your preference."
I nod, acutely aware of every set of eyes in the room shifting toward me.
"I understand. I will let you know."
Miss Phillips smiles, gathers her folder, and excuses herself with the professional efficiency of someone who has a hundred other tasks to complete before noon.
The door closes behind her.
The silence that follows is approximately three seconds long.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
Rafe's voice explodes through the apartment, making Cal wince and Etienne stiffen.
"I lose one fucking race and suddenly I am getting kicked out of the place I was in first? For what? For some Omega who showed up two days ago and decided to make my life difficult?"
He gestures at me with the hand still clutching the keycard, his gray eyes blazing with an anger that feels disproportionate to the situation.
"This is bullshit. Complete and total bullshit. I have been in this apartment for three years. Three fucking years. And now I am being shuffled next door because the administration found a clerical error that conveniently benefits the new girl?"
Etienne rises from the couch.
"Rafe, calm down. This is not..."
"Do not tell me to calm down, Laurent." Rafe rounds on him, his posture aggressive.
"You are part of this. You and Cal, following her around like puppies, offering her jerseys and helmets and whatever else she bats her eyelashes for.
And now my own brother shows up out of nowhere and suddenly he is living in my dorm? "
He whirls on Raphael, who has not moved from his spot against the counter.
"What, you met this Omega and now you are into her too? Guess everyone just wants to fuck her, huh? Is that what this is? Line up for the new pussy in town?"
Raphael says nothing.
His gray eyes, so similar to Rafe's but carrying none of the volatile heat, remain fixed on his younger brother with an expression that is somehow more devastating for its lack of reaction.
He does not rise to the bait. Does not defend himself or me.
Simply watches, waiting, like a man who has seen this performance before and knows how it ends.
Cal steps between them, his amber eyes blazing now.
"Rafe. That is fucking rude and disrespectful when MaeMae is standing right here. You do not get to talk about her like she is not a person in the room."
Rafe huffs, his lip curling.
"MaeMae. Stop calling her that. Stop with the cute little nicknames like she is part of the pack. She is NerdyMae at best. Some temporary roommate who thinks she is hot shit because she can skate fast and recite textbooks."
He turns to me, and the cruelty in his expression is calculated. Deliberate.
"Does not matter if you are trying to be some cool bitch, Mae.
Everyone can see you are just jealous of Vanessa.
Jealous that she is popular and beautiful and the leading figure on the skating team.
Jealous that she actually has a place here while you are just filling a temporary spot until you get kicked back to wherever you crawled out of. "
I tilt my head, genuinely confused by the direction he has taken this tirade.
"Why would I be jealous of Vanessa?"
The question is sincere. Not defensive, not sarcastic, just curious.
Because from where I am standing, Vanessa has nothing I want.
Popularity I never chased. Beauty that comes with the constant pressure of maintaining it.
A position on a team that does not interest me.
And a boyfriend, if Rafe even qualifies for that title, who treats her like an accessory rather than a partner.
Rafe scoffs, as if the answer is obvious.
"Because she is everything you are not. Popular. Better looking. The prodigy leading the figure skating team to competition. She is attractive and actually fuckable, unlike whatever the hell you think you have going on with the thrift store wardrobe and the tragic backstory."
Etienne growls.