Page 18 of For What It's Worth
A tear slipped out, and Jenson reached up to wipe it away. But I knew the moment I let him comfort me, I’d change my mind about leaving. I took a step back, letting his arm fall between us.
“I think I’ll wait outside.”
Chapter Thirteen
I was fine.
After eleven days of continuing to live without the alphas my inner omega wanted to claim, I knew the pain wouldn’t kill me. It was just lowering my appetite, increasing my stress, fucking with my sleeping, and making me irrationally horny to the point I’d given myself an orgasm two or three times a day but found no relief.
None of the alphas had argued with me—for me—when I left their house. It had been the last time I saw Lorenzo and Aidan, since neither had showed up to any of Jenson’s classes.
And it wasn’t the caffeine—from the two cups of regular and iced coffee I’d had—or the heartbreak, that had me shaking. It was the possessive instinct from my inner omega demanding that I went back to their house and claimed those alphas. I hadn’t even realized how hard it would be to leave them until I’d gotten in the back of the car Jenson had ordered for me.
Since then, I’d relived my time in that house over and over. Why hadn’t I spent more time with the alphas while my clothes were being washed? If that was my last chance to kiss and taste them, I should’ve taken it.
I was a mess.
I couldn’t even convince myself to get ready and go to the coffee shop like I usually did on Fridays. In fact, I hadn’t done a lot of work this week. I’d ensured the bare minimum in homework was finished, not managing to stay ahead in anything which, consequently, was the only reason I had survived on minimal work this week. The world was mumbling, and I couldn’t focus enough to understand what was being said even if I did manage to take notes. I knew if I didn’t get my shit together, my classes would only get harder.
This wasn’t safe. Not for my health; and not for my stay at the academy.
My inner omega had basically taken control of my life, pouting that she was without her alphas. I spent every available moment in my dorm’s makeshift nest, trying and failing to find comfort without the alphas’ pheromones.
Something had to change, but without any friends, I had no one to confide in. I’d spent my entire life so focused on my goals, so focused on my own routine, I’d never had to deal with the unknown before. How did anyone handle heart ache? A crush? Who should I have talked to?
In a moment of pure desperation, I forced myself out of the dorm and down to room 101. Because desperate people would do anything. Even talk to over-preppy RAs.
I had barely knocked on the door before it flew open, revealing an overly cheery Knox. Her pepper alpha scent beat at my nose. “Hey, Knox, can I talk to you?”
“Oh goodness, yes, yes, yes.” She laughed at something, maybe her own excitement, but stopped quickly when I didn’t join her. I tried giving her a reassuring smile, but that was like a trigger for tears, so I wiped that emotion from my face. “Why don’t you come back into my office, Koda? We can talk more privately there about anything.”
Her “office” was really a desk with two chairs in her dorm room. All of her walls were covered in posters about joining bands or events on campus and photos of her with family and friends. Bright colors were everywhere on the bed sheets, blinds, and blankets, but at least it was clean. It was slightly nauseating being in an alpha’s space with such strong pheromones. My inner omega had gone from tolerating Knox to hating the female simply because she wasn’t one of ‘my’ alphas. But the beta part of me needed change, so I forced myself to remain seated as I tried not to choke on her scent. How had I ever tolerated her pepper scent before?
Knox made herself comfortable on one chair, sitting on the pillow that was on it while I held the other pillow in my lap and sat across from her. She played with the ends of her two braids, obviously trying to be patient with me since I had reached out to her. She made it all of a minute.
“You seem like something is bothering you,” she said, shoving a pen and paper in my direction. “And I want to help. I am, however, obligated to let you know I must report any crimes we talk about. If it’s something you did or something done to you, you are welcome to talk to me about it, but I can’t guarantee you I won’t have to seek out help. If you can just sign this which says I went over everything I just told you, then we can get started.”
The purple pen had a little pom-pom on it, but I grabbed it and signed my name, wondering if I’d made a huge mistake coming here. Explaining why I couldn’t be with this pack all came back to me hiding my inner omega. Knowledge—I’d just signed—that Knox would have to alert administration about. I wasn’t particularly sure what I had thought to accomplish by coming down here, but Knox was the only person I knew to reach out to. And now I was about to spew lies to my only pseudo-friend.
“It’s nothing bad,” I said, pushing the paper and pen back in her direction. “I was just looking for something to do this evening. Somewhere to go to get out of the dorm.”
Knox pursed her lips. “Are you sure that’s all? You seem … stressed, to put it gently.”
“I am.” Maybe that would explain my knees’ inability to stop bouncing, my fingers attempting to pop knuckles I’d already popped, and the constant attention my eyes showed the door.
“School stress or relationship stress or familial stress?”
I gave her a look that asked why it mattered.
“Trust me, I know everything happening around campus,” Knox said. “Different stress calls for different remedies. Home sickness calls for a theme night that helps remind you of back home. We have plenty of those, but you may have to wait for a certain day or week. School stress can be more low-key. Something to get your mind off classes and homework but should probably be around others so you can be fully distracted and maybe even make friends to help with studying. But relationship stress requires forgetting how to even use your mind, usually by means of getting drunk, albeit safely. So, which is it?”
“I guess it’s a mix between relationship and school.” Even more so if I considered the complication that was Professor Jenson.
The pity coming from Knox’s scent was strong to the point where my fingers tightened into a death-grip on the pillow. It was like she sprayed a perfume bottle right under my nose—and the smell wasn’t good.
“There are several clubs open, but the best options are on Kappa Street. Do you know where that is?”
I nodded.