He looks wrecked.
"Showed up to your 8 a.m. still drunk from last night" wrecked, but make it fashion.
He stops just inside the door. Doesn't speak. Doesn't sit. Just stands there, hand white-knuckling the doorframe.
"You're early," I say. My voice is too high. I clear my throat, grasping for sass. "Trying to catch me unprepared, Morse? Rookie move. I've already outlined the introduction and three potential thesis statements."
That's a lie. I have half an outline and a bunch of question marks. But he doesn't need to know that.
Devan doesn't answer.
He pushes the door shut.
Click.
Then it hits me.
A deep pine forest after a storm.
My mouth goes dry. My stomach drops, not in fear, but in a sudden, dizzying swoon that leaves me gripping the edge of the table.
Oh god oh god oh god—
"Devan?" I squeak.
He turns the lock.
My heart is trying to punch its way out of my chest. This isn't normal. This isn't rivalry. I can taste him on the back of my tongue.
Is he going to murder me? That seems dramatic but also he looks kind of unhinged right now and I definitely haven't updated my will since I promised Braiden my Switch—
He turns slowly. Those eyes, usually so cold, are blown wide. His pupils have swallowed the iris. He looks feral. Like he hasn't eaten in a week and I'm the only thing on the menu.
"I..." I try to stand, but my knees are water. I lean back against the whiteboard. "I was thinking we could focus on the behavioral economics. You know, since you love pretending emotions don't exist, it'd be a good, uh, challenge for you to—"
"Quiet."
The word is a low rumble, barely a whisper, but it vibrates right through me.
I snap my mouth shut. I have never, in two years, listened to Devan Morse. I live to annoy him. But that voice? That wasn't a suggestion. That was a command.
And my whole body just... obeyed. Without asking my brain first.
He takes a step toward me.
"Devan, seriously, you're freaking me out," I say, though my voice has no bite. "If you're trying to scare me out of the internship, it's not gonna work."
"You don't know anything," he rasps. He takes another step. He's halfway across the room now. The scent is getting stronger. It's making my head swim. My omega is waking up, stretching, purring in the back of my mind.Here. Him. Finally.
Wait. What? FINALLY? What do you mean FINALLY? We hate this guy!
...Do we hate this guy?
"I know plenty," I argue, but I'm backing up. I hit the bookshelf. There's nowhere left to go. "I know you think you're the smartest guy in the room. I know you think I'm just some loud distraction. But I'm going to beat you. I'm going to—"
He closes the distance in a blur. One second he's there, the next he's here. A wall of heat and muscle crashing into my space. He slams a hand against the wall next to my head. I gasp, pressing back. He looms over me, blocking out the overhead lights.
"This rivalry is over," he growls.
