My smile hurts, it’s so big. “Well I’m asking, and I’ll beg if I have to. I have a bedroom, bathroom, living room, and kitchen that are boringly beige and could use some razzle dazzle.”
Lainey smiles back and grabs my hand to tug me further into the shop. “Then prepare to have your dazzle razzled.”
Several hours later Lainey has helped me pick at least one unique piece for each room of my apartment and by the timeI’m checking out, I know I’ll be leaving with more than just furniture today. I’m also leaving with a brand new friend.
“Now Jude I know you’re not technically a professor yet, but the same rules that apply to the rest of the faculty also apply to you. That includes the basic Harbor University code of conduct and our no fraternization policy. This encompasses both students and other faculty members, regardless of their department. The only exception to that policy is a scent match or mutually complete bond, but both must be reported to administration immediately so we can get the proper paperwork submitted to the State and the Board of Education. It protects both you and the university should something go wrong.”
I nod along with Dean Rivers, only half listening. I’m twenty-four and haven’t found my scent match yet, and at this point I’m not sure I want to. Being a PhD candidate and an adjunct professor leaves me with precious little free time, and the thought of using that time to coddle an omega isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.
I’m sure the rest of my pack feels the same. Mack is still hyper-focused on making it to the majors, and the twins are about as indifferent as it gets when it comes to romance and sex lately. Mack’s baseball career is one of the only reasons I took this job in the first place. The draft is next year right after graduation and I needed a reason to hang around until we know where he’ll be drafted. Paxton and Parker have alreadyagreed to transfer to a university wherever Mack goes since they still have at least one year left.
Rivers stops in front of classroom eleven, which is one of the smaller classrooms on campus. Mack is going to get a kick out of the coincidence since eleven is also his jersey number. “This will be your home for the semester. We won’t officially know your next placement until after the holiday break, so just check in with my secretary in the new year and she’ll give you your next room assignment and keys if needed.”
He opens the classroom door but doesn’t enter, and the breeze from the door sends a fresh wave of his overpoweringly fishy scent my way. I’ve never had even the slightest desire to get close enough to pick out exactly what his scent is, and based on the way my stomach churns now, I will be doing all I can to avoid him moving forward. “Do you have any questions for me before I leave you to it?”
“No, I think you covered everything thoroughly. Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Rivers.” My hand stretches out for a shake, which he eagerly returns. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the Dean, it’s that a little bit of deference goes a very long way.
He guffaws. “Jude, please. I’ve told you to call me Byron.”
I nod, letting my lips tilt up in what I hope looks like a genuine smile. “Sorry, Byron. I’m still adjusting to not being an undergrad.”
Byronnods, clapping a hand down on my shoulder hard enough that I grit my teeth against the urge to snap at him to move his fucking hand. I don’t like people touching me, but yelling at my boss on my first official day seems like a bad move. “You’ll do great. If you need anything, you know my office extension. Good luck!”
Only once I’m in my new classroom with the door shut do I let myself exhale. My body slumps against the door, exhaustion weighing me down like an anchor. I may not want an omega, but my body is punishing me for nothaving one. At twenty-four, I shouldn’t be anywhere near in danger of developing Alpha Rabidity, but according to my doctor I’m already in the early stages. The only treatment is regular, close contact with a compatible omega, and the only cure is a bond.
Neither of which I want.
A chirp sounds from my pocket, making me jump. Once I realize it’s my phone, my eyes roll so far back I nearly give myself a headache. One of the twins changed my ringtone again, and my money is on Parker. The surly little shit is always finding creative ways to annoy me. Once the three idiots that make up my pack figured out I’m scared of birds, they started taking every opportunity to screw with me, which includes changing my ringtone to bird sounds as often as they can.
And of course the text is from Mack, the second oldest in our pack and my best friend. I’m not sure how he manages a 4.0 GPA or baseball when his phone seems to be surgically attached to his left hand.
Mack
Good luck in your first class! Try not to bite anyones head off. Save it for Parker, he’s being a moody asshole today.
I scoff.Great. Because what I really need on top of my own studies and a full day of teaching is to come home and try to psychoanalyze the perpetually pissy twin.
If Parker is a storm cloud, his twin brother Paxton is sunshine. They may be identical, but god knows their similarities end at their looks. Parker is pessimistic, dour, and only shows his heart around the pack, but even then it’s rare. Paxton, however, is the complete opposite. He’s like a human Xanax with a hefty side of hopeless romantic. No problem is too big, and he’s never met a person he didn’t get along with. Not even his brother’s foul moods get him down.
Me
Parker is always a moody asshole. But I’ll bring back one of those cookies he likes and see if that softens him up.
As always, the reply is instantaneous.
Mack
If you bring a pack mate a cookie, the rest of us will want one too.
Dumbass.
A genuine smile steals across my mouth despite my best efforts to keep it at bay. My pack mates may be idiots sometimes, but they’remyidiots, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
I toss my phone on the desk when students start filing in, eager for their first day of classes. This is just an introductory biology class, so the curriculum is relatively straightforward compared to the coursework I’m doing for my biomedical engineering PhD. Teaching this course will give me a little extra money to put towards my loans before I graduate, and grading papers sounds like a nice, tedious way to relax on a Saturday night.
Taking a deep breath, I turn towards the class and clap. “Good morning, students. My name is Professor Carter. You can call me Prof or Carter if you’d like, but anything else and you run the risk of me ignoring you completely.”
The students laugh like I’m joking, but I’m not. I’m not here to play games or entertain any of the starry-eyed looks I’m already getting from some of the female students in the front of the room. With how vicious the HU rumor mill is, the last thing I need is for someone to misconstrue a look and run their mouth about me and some young coed.
