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“You memorize my schedule?” she jokes back.
I remember how Claire teased her just a little while ago and bite back a smile.
“Nah, you’re just predictable,” he counters. “I’ll walk with you—it’s on my way to my next class. You heading back to the dorm, Espy?” Em turns to ask. I mean Leo.Damn it.
“Urgggggh,” I groan, adding a little whine to my voice. “I need to do a practice test today. I should probably go to the library so I can focus without getting distracted.
“I can take you, short stack,” Lincoln offers. “I can’t stay though—I have to report in. But I’ll be off around six, so I can grab you then if Leo or Tanner can’t swing by.” He looks calm, but I know from experience he hates leaving me alone in public places.
I’ve been to the library a few times on my own, and I’m honestly getting a lot better at being out by myself. I sometimes feel panicky, but usually if I go somewhere quiet and take some deep breaths, the feeling passes. We got into a bit of a tiff earlier this week when he tried to forbid me from being out without one of the pack, butLeobacked me up. Lincoln earned himself another caricature for that spat. It’ll be a full collection soon if he’s not careful.
“I can go with you.”
I turn my head, eyes widening at hearing Mason’s offer. Of Micah’s two packmates, he’s the one I’ve spent the least amount of time around. He’s more reserved than his brother and Cabe, though I’ll admit I find that comforting to some degree. Micah talks about him a lot while we’re working, oftentimes referencing the work his brother is doing around packs.
“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” Mason rushes to add, glancing over at Lincoln of all people.What’s that about?If I had to guess, my grumpy trainer gave everyone a lecture on respecting boundaries and treating me with kid gloves.
It’s sweet, but also frustrating.
“That’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t want to inconvenience you.” It’s one thing for my brother and his pack to babysit me, but I don’t like the idea of a bunch of other people thinking I’m some kind of child that needs her hand held to cross the street. Metaphorically speaking, of course. The thought of holding hands with Mason makes butterflies dance in my stomach.
“No inconvenience,” he insists, moving out of the booth to come up next to me. “I totally understand if you want to go on your own, but I was actually planning to head over there anyway. I need to put in some serious study time before our meet this weekend, and being in the library forces me to buckle down,” he explains, bouncing what looks like a heavy backpack to emphasize his point.
“That sucks,” I empathize, buying myself a second or two to evaluate how I’m feeling. Another trick from good old Dr. Morgan. She taught me a nifty checklist to go through in my head to help gauge if I’m up for any given activity.
After some quick thinking, I decide I feel good about this.
“Okay,” I finally say, feeling a whole new type of anxiety hit me now I’ve decided to hang out with him. Just this short proximity has me squirming with a rush ofsomething. “Is it okay if we stop by Em—I mean, Leo’s—dorm first? I need to grab my books.”
Mason nods, and the whole group heads out.
“You’re in for a treat, Esps!” Micah declares, practically bouncing as he walks next to me. “Cabe is always making these amazing snacks, but he likes to hoard them and won’t share with Mason and me. Buuuuuuuutt I bet he can be convinced to give some up for you ...”
“Shithead,” Cabe mumbles, rolling his eyes. Even so, I watch as he opens his bag and pulls out a Ziplock full of some cookie-like things, which he then hands over to Mason. “Don’t let him hog them all,” he directs at me, winking.
Oh boy. Is this what swooning feels like?
Everyone says their goodbyes and heads in different directions once we make it outside.
“Tomorrow, short stack. I’ll come get you at 6 a.m. sharp. Don’t make me drag you out of bed again,” Lincoln says, using his special “I’m threatening you, but it’s because I care” voice.
“6:10 a.m.!” I call after him, laughing as he shoots me a glare over his shoulder.
Then it’s just me and Mason.
“What’s tomorrow?” he asks as we both head in the direction of the dorms.
“Just my punishment for being naïve enough to ask Lincoln to train me in self-defense. I thought he’d spend a few hours showing me some moves, but instead he has me doing conditioning three days a week for an hour and a half, and then on twootherdays he’s been teaching me some defensive combat techniques. AND,”—I pause dramatically, giving a fake shudder—“as you heard, he’s amorningperson.”
Mason laughs. His face looks so beautiful when he does it. “Sounds rough!” he sympathizes. “Isn’t that a lot of physical exercise for an omega?” He grimaces as soon as the words are out of his mouth. “Shit, that sounded horrible. I didn’t mean you’re weak or can’t learn martial arts or anything like that ... To be honest, I’m not a huge expert on omegas. I just have these vague notions of all the differences in our biology and physiologies and I’m leaping to conclusions from there. Can we please pretend like I didn’t just majorly stick my foot in my mouth?”
“It’s fine.” I wave him off, smiling. “To be honest, I don’t know much about omegas myself. In high school my teachers just kind of guessed at what might be different for me compared to my beta classmates. And most of the reading I’ve done on omegas was ... not very enlightened.” I scowl, not wanting to think about the bullshit propaganda my dad made me study.
“Well, I may not know Lincoln that well, but I’m betting he knows what he’s doing. Plus, they say alphas have a sort of innate instinct driving them to take care of omegas. I’m sure he’d be able to sense if your body couldn’t handle the stuff he’s throwing at you.”
“He must have built up a tolerance then. The guy is immune to my pouting,” I joke.
“Shit, he must be superhuman to pull that off,” Mason replies, his face soft as he meets my eye.
