I zip the bag closed and stand. "Thank you," I say again.
He nods. "Take care of yourself, Alex."
Dalton holds the door and we step out into the cold. I pull the parka from the bag before we've made it off the faculty building steps and put it on and it's warm immediately — properly, entirely warm, the kind that wraps around and stays.
"The color," Dalton says.
"I know," I say.
"It suits you."
I look at him sideways. He looks back. Sincere, no production.
We walk. The afternoon is quiet — late enough that most classes have ended, early enough that the dining hall hasn't opened for dinner. The quad has the stillness of a campus between things, a few students cutting across the paths, someone's music from an upper window. I'm thinking about RJ at the fence. About Lumi and what she's still working on.
The door to the building on my left opens and Gray steps out, takes one look at me, and grabs my hand.
"Hey—"
He pulls me inside.
Empty study room — round table, chairs, a whiteboard with notes half-erased on it. Gray lets go of my hand and leans against the table. Dalton comes through the door behind us and pulls it closed.
"Meeting go okay," Gray says.
"Fine," I say. "Tomlinson wanted to know why Becky asked to be reassigned."
"What did you tell him."
"Nothing happened."
Gray's mouth pulls. "And what actually happened."
"Nothing," I say. "Happened."
He looks at me, then at Dalton. Dalton is leaning against the closed door with his arms crossed, jaw working slightly, holding whatever's in his face down to a controlled simmer.
"Writing 101," Gray says, turning back to me. "You want to explain that."
"Explain what."
"You put your hand on my face," he says. "In front of the whole class."
"I was redirecting your attention," I say.
"From Becky."
"From the conversation you were having with Becky."
"The conversation she was having at me," Gray says. "I wasn't participating."
"I know," I say. "I was clarifying that."
Gray looks at Dalton. "Does that sound like clarifying to you."
Dalton's eyebrow goes up. Slow. "It sounds," he says, "like our alpha was letting everyone know who is hers."
"That's not—" I start.
