Page 14 of Want It All
I thanked them when we got to my room, uncomfortable with how much they’d done for me. Before I unlocked my door, Sebastian enveloped me in a hug.
I froze, but it was so …nice. He was tall and his chest was broad and hard; his arms shut out the world. I breathed in, inhaling the scents of soap and washing detergent, underlain with the metallic tang of canceller. I could have stayed there for hours, but he let me go.
‘See you tomorrow, Rose,’ he said, and dragged Tristan away with a grin.
I blinked after him.
‘Was there a mixer you missed, but wanted information from?’
I turned to face Byron, startled. His hands were back in his pockets, and he’d stepped back, giving me plenty of space.
‘Archaeology,’ I managed.
He gave a curt nod, then gestured to the door. ‘Make sure you lock it behind you,’ he said softly, before turning and walking away.
I slipped inside and did as he said.
Some hours later, I heard a rustling outside my door. When I checked my camera, there was a brochure on the floor outside it.
My lips curved when I opened the door to pick it up.So you’re interested in archaeology?it read.
And on top of it rested a posy of sunny, golden wattle flowers.
Ididn’tattendallthe activities during orientation week, but by the first day of class, I had a fairly good idea of who I wanted to avoid for the next three years.
Glynn and Dean – the two alphas who’d tried to force Rose’s hand – topped the list. They were straight-up assholes, and she wasn’t the only one they’d gone after. A first-year beta and a third-year alpha also lodged complaints about their behaviour. My mother asked me about it, and I answered honestly.They shouldn’t be here.
She nodded, and I knew that she agreed, but, as usual, her hands were tied byprocess. Three complaints put them on the edge of expulsion before class had even started, but they hadn’t explicitly broken any rules, and a later-year student – a cousin of Glynn’s – had offered to watch over them, toteach them the Banksia ways. It didn’t sound half ominous, but the cousin’s father was a major donor, so the Banksia board opted to give Glynn and Dean one more chance.
They weren’t the only ones on my list. It also included a second-year, Jacob, who tried to pick a fight with me outside the dining hall one evening, and a third-year, Melissa, who wouldnotleave me alone. She was clever about it, never giving me the opportunity to refuse her outright; she justappearedevery time I went for a meal, and my DMs were overflowing with unread messages.
I didn’t want to be rude, but I wasn’t interested. I was polite, but I was careful not to do anything that could be misconstrued as welcoming the attention, and I switched my social media profiles to private to make sure it couldn’t happen again.
Which didn’t stop me checking other people’s profiles, embarrassingly thoroughly.
Tristan’s feed was so casually rich it was absurd. He didn’t post often; when he did, they were always photos that were taken on his phone, swift and careless, often featuring Sebastian – though never a full photo, and never of his face – with a glass of wine in hand. His captions read things likeso glad to be back in Greeceandlucky to have the whole island to ourselves. His New Year’s Eve photos seemed to be ones he’d been tagged in by other people, people whose names evenIknew, people who seemed to share the traits of youth, beauty, and eye-wateringly large amounts of money, partying elegantly in backdrops I’d only ever seen in films.
Sebastian’s private feed was cute; he’d followed me the morning after the discipline mixers and accepted my subsequent request about five seconds after I’d sent it. His posts mostly featured his impressive balcony garden in the apartment he and Tristan had shared before coming to Banksia House. Tristan was in many of them, wearing an indulgent smile and a softness around his eyes that I was yet to see in real life. There were a couple of photos of Sebastian’s family, but not many; those pictures seemed to feature Sebastian looking uncomfortable atvarious award nights, standing stiffly next to one of his parents as they held trophies or plaques or certificates – or, in one, an oversized fake cheque for a sum I checked a few times to make sure I hadn’t misread.
I spent the longest on Rosemary’s feed. Hers was a little more curated; she was obviously careful about what she posted, and her shots were so beautiful they looked almost professional. Her pictures were often about what she was reading or crafts she seemed to take up for a few months before starting something new. There were some selfies – she looked so pretty in them my mouth went dry – but I realised after a while that all of them were taken inside. Her feed didn’t show her travelling, or even getting out and about in the city she’d lived in.
The world isn’t made for omegas, Tina’s voice reminded me.They need a safety net. Friends, or family, or a pack. People who can help them feel comfortable as they navigate the space around them.
It made me sadder than I could say to think that Rosemary might not have had that.
It played on my mind as I got ready for the first day of class. I always wore variations of the same outfit – black on black – so I didn’t need much time to dress, though I was careful with my scent cancellers and I checked the battery on my monitors to make sure they’d last the day. After brushing my teeth, I ran my fingers through my hair, pulled half of it back into a loose bun, and packed my bag.
I was halfway down the staircase when I found myself veering to the right and knocking on Rosemary’s door.
She answered a moment later, looking surprised. ‘Alpha?’
Alpha.
Every muscle in my body tightened at the sound of my designation on her lips. I cleared my throat, trying to ignore it. ‘I’m going to get breakfast before class. Would you like to come?’
She blinked, and then a smile spread over her face, slowly. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I’d like that.’
She took a few extra moments to get ready. I stayed outside her room, listening to her bustle about, a song by an Australian female indie artist playing in the background. I added the song to my own streaming library.You’re unhinged, I told myself.You’re basically a stalker.
