He pivots toward Mae with an apologetic smile that manages to look almost sincere.
"Seriously, though, we haven't eaten either. Our classes don't start until tomorrow, so we've got nothing but free time and empty stomachs. We could hit up the cafe together once you're done with paperwork. The regular one, since I'm an Alpha." He shrugs with deliberate nonchalance. "Can't exactly waltz into your fancy Omega-exclusive spots."
I watch Mae consider the invitation.
Watch the battle play out across her features in real time: the caution warring with the longing, the scar tissue of old hurt pulling against the tender new tissue of possibility. Her eyes flicker between us, measuring, weighing, running the risk assessment that people who have been burned too many times perform automatically before accepting even the smallest gesture of connection.
She is deciding whether we are safe.
Whether I am safe.
Whether the girl who held her hand in kindergarten and then dropped it without warning is trustworthy enough to hold it again.
My chest aches with the specific pain of watching someone you hurt try to decide if you are worth the risk of being hurt again.
"Why not?" Mae says finally, and her voice is steadier than I expected. "I should probably try to make some friends while I'm here. Or reconnect with old ones, I guess."
The grin that cracks across my face is so wide it hurts my cheeks.
"Yes! Okay. Amazing. This is going to be great, I promise. We have so much catching up to do. Like, thirteen years' worth of catching up."
"That's a lot of catching up," she admits.
"Good thing we've got time." The guilt recedes enough for excitement to rush into the vacuum, filling my chest with awarmth I have not felt in connection with another person since I walked into a Valenridge dorm room and found Jace sitting on the couch. "I want to hear everything. Your job, your life, why you're here, whether you've kept up with skating, if you've got any cute Alphas chasing after you..."
Her expression shifts at that last item. A subtle tightening around the mouth, a flicker of the eyes that communicates the presence of a story she is not ready to tell.
"That last one's a complicated question," she mutters.
My eyebrows launch.
"Oh? Complicated how? That sounds like there's a story there."
"There's definitely a story," Jace agrees, studying her with renewed curiosity. "You've got that look. The 'my life is chaos, and I'm barely holding it together' look. I recognize it. See it in the mirror every morning."
"You do not," I scoff. "You've got the most boring, stable life of anyone I know."
"Excuse you, my life is very exciting. I'll have you know I tried a new coffee order last week. Hazelnut instead of vanilla. Revolutionary stuff."
"Wow. Call the press. Alert the media. Jace Nakamura has discovered hazelnut."
"Your sarcasm wounds me."
"Good. Suffer."
Miss Phillip clears her throat a final time, the sound carrying the acoustic authority of a woman who has exhausted her reservoir of institutional patience.
"The administrative office. Closing. In an hour."
"Right!" I grab Jace's arm and begin towing him toward the east wing with the practiced efficiency of a woman who has been dragging this man through hallways since childhood. "We'll bewaiting! Don't take too long, Mae! Your stomach sounded really angry, and I don't want it to start eating itself!"
"That's not how stomachs work!" Jace protests as he is hauled along, his long legs scrambling to match my pace. "You can't just make up science, Holloway!"
"Watch me!"
Our bickering carries us around the corner and out of Mae's line of sight, fading into the corridor's acoustics as distance converts our voices from conversation to echo to memory.
Jace extracts his arm from my grip once we reach the bench outside the administrative office, settling onto the wooden slats with the composed grace of a man who has been manhandled by Sage Holloway enough times to consider it cardio.
