Page 9 of False Catch

"I've taken the liberty of pairing you based on complementary skill sets," Martinez continues, pulling up a slide. "No switches, no complaints. You're training for the real world where you don't get to choose your colleagues."

I scan the list projected on the screen, looking for my name. When I find it, my stomach does something complicated.

Callahan, Reese - Whitmore, Quinton III

I know that name. Everyone at Sable Ridge knows that name. Lacrosse captain, old money, the kind of Alpha who was probably born in a suit. More importantly, he's someone Gray mentioned once in passing as being from his prep school days, though the way Gray's jaw tightened suggested they weren't exactly friends.

"Looks like we're partners."

The voice comes from directly behind me, smooth and pleasant. I turn to find Quinton Whitmore standing there, designer backpack slung over one shoulder, smile perfectly calibrated to be friendly but not overwhelming.

Sierra gathers her things quickly, but not before shooting me a look that says we'll talk about this later. She yields her seat with a polite nod to Quinton, who waits until she's gone before settling in.

He's handsome in that catalog model way. Dark brown hair styled with something expensive-smelling, green eyes that seem to take in everything while revealing nothing. His scent is subtle - sandalwood and leather, expensive and controlled.

"Hi," I manage. "Nice to meet you."

"Quinton," he says, extending a hand. "Though I think we've crossed paths before. You cox for the men's varsity eight, right?"

I shake his hand, noting the firm but not aggressive grip. "That's right."

"Impressive win at Riverside. I caught the end of it." He settles into his seat, arranging his things with easy confidence. "Must be challenging, being the only woman on the team."

"It has its moments."

He laughs, a warm sound that seems genuine. "I bet. I know some of those guys from various places. Gray Lockwood and I actually went to prep school together."

Something in the way he says Gray's name makes me pay closer attention. Not hostile exactly, but... complicated.

"Small world," I offer.

"Smaller than you'd think." He pulls out an iPad and stylus. "So, strategic analysis of emerging markets. Thoughts on which region we should focus on?"

The shift to business is smooth, professional. I relax slightly. This is manageable. Just a normal class project with a normal classmate who happens to be an Alpha but doesn't know anything about my designation or what happened last weekend or why I currently have a fading mark on my neck hidden under concealer and a strategically placed scarf.

We spend the next thirty minutes outlining our approach. Quinton is smart, focused, and actually listens when I make suggestions. He takes notes in neat handwriting, asks thoughtful questions, and doesn't once make me feel like he's humoring the little Omega.

Not that he knows I'm an Omega. As far as he's concerned, I'm just another Beta student trying to survive Martinez's notorious workload.

"We should probably meet outside of class to work on this," he suggests as Martinez wraps up. "Library? Or there's a coffee shop off campus that's usually quiet."

My phone buzzes. Then buzzes again. And again.

I glance down to see the team group chat exploding.

Bo: Where are you? Zane: Business building, right? Tyler: Her class ends in five minutes. Jackson: Someone should walk her to the dining hall. Beckett: I'm closest. Bo: I've got it. Gray: Everyone calm down. She's fine.

I silence my phone, cheeks heating. "Library works. When were you thinking?"

"Tomorrow afternoon? Say, three?"

Another buzz. I don't look this time.

"Sounds good." I start packing up, aware that Quinton is watching me with what seems like casual interest.

"Everything okay?" He nods toward my phone, which is now vibrating continuously against the desk.

"Just the team. They're..." I search for the right word. "Involved."