Page 13 of The Omega Lesson

His jaw flexes and his icy blue eyes flick over me, but he doesn’t try to push me further down the hallway. “The headmaster asked me to mentor you, assuming you pass your probation. I have some ideas I want to discuss, so come past my office first thing Monday morning.”

It’s all delivered in a barking growl that’s just shy of an alpha command. It makes my hackles stand on end, but I swallow back my complaints. Drummond knows that one negative word from him, and my job is toast. So, for now, I just grit my teeth and nod. “Alright. I’ll see you then.”

I’m hoping we’re done, but he steps closer, his burnt coffee scent washing over me. “You could do well at this school, Lexi, if you were more of a team player. Girls like you just need to wake up and realise how the real world works.”

His hand brushes over the nape of my neck right as footsteps sound behind me. I jerk away from him and press my back against the wall, ready to tackle the new threat. But everything gets infinitely worse when a familiar voice says, “Mr. Drummond. Still lurking in dark corridors, I see.”

Drummond grunts out something, but I’m too busy staring at Travis Lyall to hear him. He’s right; we’re standing in the darkest corner of the dining hall, but Travis looks perfectly at home in the shadows. He was always tanned as a teenager, but now his skin has a coppery tint, his teeth a brilliant white in his dark face. His wild black curls are now clipped tight to his head. I miss those thick waves, but the severe cut just seems to accentuate his masculine features, and my old crush comes roaring back like it never left.

God, how does he emanate such raw, powerful energy when he’s just leaning against the wall, his hands in the pocket of his trousers? I have to physically stop myself from reaching out to him, but Travis clearly doesn’t feel the same way. In fact, as his dark eyes pass over me, I can’t see even a hint of recognition. “You might want to get back out there, Drummond. I heard Miller asking where you’d got to.”

I don’t wait for Drummond’s reply, leaping at the chance to escape. Not that I get very far before Travis’ hand is on my arm, steering me across the room towards a table near the front. People are still milling about socialising, so I don’t argue when he presses me down into an empty chair. But I stiffen as his gum-scented breath ghosts across my skin. “That sounded like an important conversation,” he murmurs in my ear. “Were you interviewing him, or was he interviewing you?”

God, how much did he hear? “Neither. It was just a misunderstanding.”

“Well, the Master of Discipline isn’t a good person to have those with.” He takes the seat at my side, studying me over the top of his glass of whiskey. “You can sit with me until Ben arrives, if you like.”

I try not to stare as he gulps his drink, but this is Travis Lyall. Even if he doesn’t remember me, watching his every move was once my reason for existing. But then his words sink in and I frown. “Did Ben mention me?”

His jaw tenses as he sets his empty glass back down. A hovering server quickly fills it up, but when she’s gone, Travis gives me a cool look. “I assume you’re a friend of his, since you’re covered in his brother’s scent.”

I gape at him. Am I really? I scrubbed myself with a descenter before I came out, and I haven’t seen Mattie since Ben frogmarched him back to his dorm last night. “What – what do you mean? I’m Mattie’s teacher…”

“You’re either fucking him, or you’re fucking Ben.” Travis’ eyes narrow as he nods over my shoulder. “Since they’re both headed this way, I suggest you work out which one in a hurry.”

My mouth is still hanging open when we’re flanked by the Cliff brothers. They’re in matching black tuxes, and my heart actually skips a beat when I take them in. Which is all kinds of confusing. Ogling Mattie is bad enough, but why can’t I tear my eyes away from Ben? It has to be the fact my old crush just accused me of fucking him. Which should definitely make me feel something other than warm and tingly.

“Shit, sorry we’re late,” Mattie huffs, clearly on the verge of snatching me up and hugging me. It’s only Ben’s hand on his shoulder that stops him, and then I’m staring into the vivid green gaze of the older Cliff brother. “Has Travis been looking after you, Miss Novak?”

Before I can answer, Travis gives a low, throaty grunt. “Oh, we’re old friends. She used to chase my balls around when we were teenagers.”

Holy shit. I feel my face go bright red, and it looks like steam is coming out of Mattie’s ears. Even Ben is looking at him strangely, but then Travis shrugs. “Tennis balls, I mean. Her brother Anton was my doubles partner.”

I guess hedoesremember me. Although, the Travis Lyall I knew didn’t tell off-colour jokes, or put people on the spot. “It was a long time ago,” I murmur, then frown up at Ben. “Where’s Jackson?”

Travis almost drops his drink. “Jack’s here? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He’s taking a moment in the car. He’s not feeling so great to be back here.”

Tension ripples around the table like wildfire. I look between the three men, but Travis is already out of his seat. “I’ll go talk to him.”

But Ben steps in his path. “Jack asked for a moment. We can give him that, right?”

Something passes between them, taut and electric, and I wonder if they’re about to start throwing punches. But then Travis stalks off without a backward glance and Ben sags into his seat. “Well, shit,” he mutters. “This is going to be harder than I thought.”

What does he mean? Is it a problem for Jack to be here, or is he worried about whatever beef is brewing with his brother? I have to admit, I’m dying of curiosity. But this is definitely not the time or place to quiz Ben Cliff on his dynamic with my old crush. Besides, Mattie is busy draining Travis’ whiskey, and there’s nothing like seeing your teenage lover downing alcohol at a school function to put things into perspective. “I need to get back to work.”

Mattie pouts at me, his lips shiny from his drink. “Not until you dance with me, Lexi.”

I huff a laugh under my breath, glad for the reprieve in tension. “We can’t. People will stare. And there’s no music to dance to, anyway.”

Mattie leans over and takes my hand under the tablecloth. “There’s always music when you’re around, babe.”

Ben just shakes his head at his brother, but I give Mattie’s hand a squeeze before getting to my feet. The guests are making their way to their tables and I wander through the crowd, jotting down meaningless chatter that I’ll probably never use. I have no idea if I have enough for an article, but I can’t find it in me to care. My mind is pinging back and forth like a Grand Slam rally. And I don’t have to think too hard about why I’ve suddenly got tennis on the brain.

I just talked to Travis Lyall for the first time in nearly a decade.And it was both amazing, and completely underwhelming.

I circle the room as Headmaster Miller mounts the small stage and welcomes everyone to the annual Old Boys’ Dinner. There’s a boisterous round of applause and then he launches into a long speech full of sporting metaphors that I don’t bother to write down. The first course is being served, and I jot down some foodie notes, instead. I’ve read enough cookbooks to correctly label the mini blinis topped with caviar, but I’m trying to work out if it’s lemon truffle foam on the ravioli when I hear someone whisper my name.

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