All the fucks!
This is when listening to the information dump would have saved my ass…
"They told me I'd have roommates. They did not mention the roommates would be—" I gesture at Rafe, still gloriously naked except for the towel now dangling from one hand like an afterthought. "Well, naked possessive assholes.”
His laughter echoes around us as he dares give me the biggest grin, lighting up his eyes.
"Welcome to Casa del Chaos." Cal's voice is warm despite the chaos. "We have coffee. And regrets. Lots of regrets."
Behind me, the door opens again, and I don't even have to look to know who it is.
The scent of snow-dusted evergreens gives him away before he says a word.
"Oh." Étienne's soft voice carries a note of wonder. "You're the girl from earlier. The one with the—" He gestures vaguely at his chest, miming the slushie situation with both hands. "I was worried. You ran away so fast."
Then his gaze catches on Rafe—still naked, still standing way too close to me—and his expression hardens into something I wouldn't have thought the shy goalie capable of.
"Mon Dieu, Rafe. Put some clothes on. You're scaring her."
Scared of what? His ding-a-ling-ling?
"I'm not scared," I snap automatically, because being underestimated has been the story of my life, and I refuse to play that role anymore. "I'mannoyed. There's a significant difference."
Cal huffs a laugh that sounds almost admiring.
Étienne's lips twitch into something that might be a smile.
Rafe just stares at me like I've grown a second head—or maybe like I've sprouted wings and a halo and descended from Omega heaven specifically to torment him.
"Let me get this straight." I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache forming behind my eyes. "I'm going to be living with the three of you. In one house. For six weeks."
"One bathroom," Cal offers helpfully.
"Thin walls," Étienne adds, and there's something in his tone that makes my cheeks burn.
"And a kitchen I will fight you for access to," Rafe mutters, finally—thank you to all the heavenly gods in the sky—wrapping the towel around his waist.
It does absolutely nothing to diminish the raw Alpha energy rolling off him in waves.
Damn him.
"You." I whirl on him, jabbing a finger at his stupidly sculpted chest. "You're one of them."
"I'm all of them." His voice is rough, scraped raw with something I don't want to examine too closely. "Prime Alpha. Captain. And yeah—the asshole who made your life hell when we were kids." He takes a step toward me, and the air between us crackles with something that feels like fate and fury intertwined. "But if you think I'm going to let you walk around this campus—mycampus—smelling likethatand covered in some other Alpha's colors without doing something about it, you've got another thing coming, Mae Rose."
"It's Mabeline." I correct icily. "Or Ms. Rose. You haven't earned the right to use my middle name."
His lips curl into something that's half-smirk, half-promise. Something that makes my stomach flip and my Omega hindbrain whimper.
"Yet."
Yet?
Oh,hellno.
I grab my purse from the equipment manager's office—the guy barely looks up from his phone, completely unbothered by the drama unfolding around him—and storm toward the exit, my sneakers squeaking on the damp tile.
Three sets of heavy footsteps follow me like oversized, muscular shadows.
