Page 3 of For What It's Worth

Heading back to the classroom, the door was open with students already walking in. Everyone was talking like they were old friends, which I guess made sense if they’d all been attending the last two years at the academy together. Friends were hard to make when I was terrified of someone learning my secret. My lie. Designations bloomed with puberty, and I was a dandelion hiding in a field of wildflowers. Technically a weed but looking enough like a wildflower in passing.

Inside the classroom, the two males I imagined—no, I couldn’t think of that—the professor and surfer dude were whispering aggressively while the third male in the probably-a-pack pack was standing nearby, looking toward the door as if his one wish in life was to walk through it. This pack member was the tallest of the group. There was an air around him making him look less approachable than his packmates—not that my inner omega cared. Part of it might have been because he wasn’t quite as stunningly handsome. The scowl didn’t make him look rugged, just aggressively annoyed with life. His hair was cut close on the side and long on the top with perfect curls that looked like they would bounce back if I pulled them. And damn, could I imagine his head between my legs, me with a fistful of his perfect hair. Maybe my grip was the only thing keeping him in place. Maybe he licked my clit slowly before circling it with his tongue—

No. That was the opposite of helpful in a room filled with alphas.

I took a seat in the back of the classroom where there were plenty of empty chairs still. The whole room was set up more like a stage with the teacher presenting at the front and the seats positioned so everyone had a view over the head in front of them. Little desks folded out on the chairs—those were cute—and I put my drink down, waiting for class to start, purposely keeping my attention away from the pack I apparently couldn’t stop fantasizing about.

The beta females were gone, but my nose seemed to have a direct line to their lingering scents on the alphas.

As more students came and found seats, the whole classroom filled up, but the professor was still talking. Several of the students were starting to wonder out loud about whether the class was going to start when the third male in the pack just grabbed surfer dude by the arm and pulled him out of the classroom mid argument. I was surprised there weren’t any dominance fights, but surfer dude went quietly, winking at me as he passed since all I could do was stare at him.

Professor Jenson introduced himself and I did my best to pay attention. It was a little weird to sit without underwear on since the seams of my jeans felt like they were digging into unsavory parts, but I did my best to ignore it. Especially since moving around would draw more attention to me.

Professor Jenson didn’t make us all introduce ourselves, but he did scan all the seats. His eyes met mine for a moment too long, and I reminded myself he didn’t know I wasn’t wearing underwear because I had an illicit fantasy about him dominating me. But when his eyes moved on, I refused to look up from my notes again for the rest of my class. This was going to be a long semester.

Chapter Four

One Month Later

I told the barista to make anything as long as it was caramel flavored. She didn’t disappoint. Not that I was surprised. I managed to come here every weekend for a reason.

I wasn’t sure where most of the student body spent their Friday nights, but I spent mine at a café, just off campus, but still within walking distance from the beta dorms. It had large, singular chairs and tables set around for studying, calming music that was always from some orchestral instrument, internet connection, and it served coffee. I could have lived here if classes didn’t grade attendance. Without any classes to physically attend on Fridays, I usually found myself in this exact spot.

The place had a steady flow of customers, but most got their drinks and left. The two baristas had found a balance between talking and taking orders.

Despite the soft music, I still wore headphones with a specific playlist set up for each class. First, I was working on Professor Jenson’s class, Quantum Mechanics. I’d covered most of the surface space of the table in my books, notes, and the rubric for creating the ‘2-state model for neutrino oscillations’ project.

Getting good grades had always been important to me. It was how I earned and maintained my scholarships. But my inner omega was desperate to please my professor, which meant I put in more effort to his homework, more time dedicated to studying his lessons, and probably had the best notes on his lectures in the whole class. Hence why I was already starting a project that wasn’t due for another month. I was even early to his class so my inner omega could get her perusal of the other two alphas in Professor Jenson’s pack. Luckily, the group of beta females that drooled over our professor begged for his attention after class, so I could pretend like I wasn’t as desperate as them since I drooled in the morning.

We hadn’t spoken since that first day, but that didn’t stop my thoughts manifesting him when attending to my … sexual needs. I’d never had a quicker orgasm than when I imagined Jenson dominating me—except maybe when I imagined his packmates joining us.

At first, I tried convincing myself I was hooked on the sexy male because he was my professor, thus unattainable. But I had to admit, his teacher status never appeared in my fantasies. In my imagination, I was simply Jenson’s good girl.

I’d barely started reviewing the rubric when three females basically threw themselves on the remaining chairs around the table, their sprayed on floral scents doing nothing to hide their beta designations. If I was a kinder person, I would have made space on the table so they could put whatever they bought down. But their scents were familiar in a way that had my inner omega wanting to attack them for the audacity of breathing my air. Luckily, my beta side was fully in charge.

I took one side of my headphones off, forcing a tight smile, before saying, “I hope you don’t mind I’ve sort of taken up the table space. Studying.”

Good job, Koda, like they didn’t understand why you had books spread everywhere.

“Do you attend the nearby alpha and beta academy?” The blonde to my right asked.

I thought the blonde sitting on my left had to be her sister or some close relative. They both had the same face with only slight differences in eye color and nose size. The blonde in front of me wasn’t related since her genetics were obviously passed down from two people with the sharpest bone structure I’d ever seen. She was dating Jenson, but I wasn’t sure which of the other two were paired with which alpha.

“Yep.” I popped the p, trying to politely show how not interested in the conversation I was, but no one got the hint.

Sharp bone structure blonde actually picked up the rubric for my assignment, showing it off to her pack, saying, “Look at this, she’s in my boyfriend’s class.” Her Hispanic accent was strong, and I couldn’t help but feel like her words grated on my skin for the sole fact her accent made her sexier. “Maybe I can put in a good word for you.”

My inner omega hated the idea that this beta female thought she claimed the professor I’d brought myself to orgasm thinking about. It was more than just the fact of her designation but also that she didn’t have a claiming mark. Not even a temporary hickey most alphas like to adorn their romantic partners with. Then again, the idea of the sundress wearing female in front of me, with her hair straightened and face painted to perfection having a bright red and purple hickey on her neck felt like a butt of a joke. My own outfit consisted of sweatpants, an oversized t-shit I won from a random lottery at a car show in a parking lot of a restaurant, and a sweater tied around my waist in case I got cold. But my outfit still felt more appropriate for an alpha bruise. Or maybe I was just that jealous, and it turned me into a judgmental bitch. I may never know.

“You are so sweet, Eloise,” the blonde on my left said to her friend. “I would love it if Aidan would do something more with his life. He comes from such an urbane family, but he spends his time running bars as if he’s content being a glorified bartender.”

I was incredibly intrigued about which one Aidan was (maybe surfer wannabe), but my inner omega didn’t care for these females and wanted to work on impressing Professor Jenson. Both of those meant returning my focus to my assignment. Which was hard to do since the females chose the chairs next to the only person working and not waiting in line to either order or get their drinks.

“I have no complaints about Lorenzo,” the right blonde added, her voice the most chipper of her pack.

“Really, Amy? Not even him demanding to go by ‘Enzo’ as if he’s some ill-bred? What kind of nickname is that?” the left blonde said. Her laugh wasn’t joyous but more like she was a cackling villain at her friend’s unhappiness.

“Come on now, girls,” Eloise said. “We are gossiping without even knowing the name of our newest friend.”