Page 7

Chapter Seven

Miller

I can teach you to drive.

S itting at the back of the large lecture hall, I can’t help but look at the text. Over and over and over again. It’s pathetic, I know. But I’m drawn to it like a dragon to treasure. Like a siren to sailors. Like an omega to a compatible Alpha.

But why would he want to help me?

For years, Miller has treated me like a nuisance, when he acknowledges me at all . He moved in with our family after the accident and literally could not stand the sight of me. Leaving every room I entered, pinning me with death glares. When he moved into his own place, that bitterness seemed to be replaced by a grudging tolerance. But lately, it’s seemed like something more. Friendship perhaps?

Shaking my head, I focus on the professor standing at the front of the classroom, droning on in his brain-frying monotone. I usually love my classes, but science is just not it—not it at all. Physics makes me want to cry.

Of course, I put this course off until the last possible second, taking all the business and fine arts classes I was excited about first. I’m nearly done with my degree, so now it’s time to go back and take the gen eds I could push back.

The guy a few seats away from me is playing a video game on his laptop, and the girl two rows down seems to be writing a paper for a different class. Glancing right and left, I make sure no one is looking before pulling up my search bar and typing in: Drivers Education Classes.

About a hundred options quickly populate the screen, and I chew on my lip. Nerves flutter in my stomach, and my palms become slippery with sweat.

Deep breaths. You are not in danger. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

One breath. Then two and three. Wrinkling my nose, I click much harder than necessary on the first link for a driving school. The room spins, and I blink a few times to focus on the screen, but it’s memories that appear instead.

The professor’s droning fades into the background…

“Come on, Posie! Hurry, or we’ll be late,” Owen shouts up the stairs. He’s annoyed, but this is a big night for me—we’re going to be on television, and the whole school will tune in .

“Just one minute! I’ll be right down!” Frantically, I glance at the mirror again. The blue dress my mom picked out is too plain, too basic. I look chunky and frumpy in it. If I show up like this, everyone is going to make fun of me tomorrow. ‘Fat, puffy, Posie’ I can hear them now. Sasha telling the entire class I look like a tubby baby. That omega mark or not, no one will ever want me.

I rush to my closet, fling it open, and grab every dress I have, stuffing them into my arms until I can’t carry anymore. Lugging them over to the bed, they spill onto my luxurious white comforter that’s fit for a princess. My hands fly as I sort through them all.

“Too big.”

“Too small.”

“Too ugly.”

Despair fills me. There’s nothing here. My parents’ refusal to let me buy clothes that aren’t ‘modest,’ meaning they don’t cover me from head to toe, is ridiculous. I’m thirteen, and they still act like I’m five—in fact, I had cuter clothes back then. Just as I’m about to give up, my fingers snag on something pink and shiny.

“Oh, my goodness, yes!” It’s a pretty pink dress, complete with all the shiny sequins that make my heart happy. It will also make the mean girls swallow their tongues. Thank you, Emma, for forgetting that you lent me this one.

“POSIE!!!!” The loud roar, combined with a fist pounding on my bedroom door, makes me jump and squeak. “Get your ass out here. We’re going to miss the draft if we don’t leave RIGHT THE HELL NOW. If you aren’t downstairs in two minutes, we’re leaving without you.”

“Coming! Cool your jets,” I yell back, knowing my parents won’t let him leave without me. Ever since coming into his Alpha, Owen’s been bossier than ever. I quickly slip into the dress and take a look at myself in the mirror.

“Hmmm do these shoes work?” A light from my window catches my eye, and I peer out. The limo is huge, and as I watch Miller, my brother’s best friend, and his parents climb in, Owen does, too. Shit. Better hurry.

With a quick swipe of lip gloss, I take one last look at my reflection and bolt for the door.

“Earth to Posie,” a voice sings in my ear, and a small squeak escapes my lips. Emma drops into the chair next to mine, her blue eyes scanning my face and missing nothing. “You okay?”

My clammy skin and shaking hands give me away, but fortunately, she won’t call me out on it.

“All good.” Slamming my laptop closed, I make quick work of sliding it into my bag before clamoring out of my seat with a quick glance at my watch. The class has only been out for a few minutes, not as bad as I expected. Emma, Mari, and I have a standing lunch date after my physics class. We all meet here because it’s closest to the Student Union. “What are you thinking for food today?”

Emma’s mouth turns down at the change in topic, but she goes with it. I know it’s only a temporary reprieve, but I’ll take it. My legs are wobbly as we climb the lecture hall stairs and make our way out the door into the bustling hallway.

“I’d kill for a BLT and fries,” she says, waving to Mari, who appears closer to the doorway.

“Sounds like a deli day,” I agree, forcing the last of my memories away. That day, and my selfishness, changed all our lives. Ruined so much for so many people. And it was all my fault.

“I’m up for a sandwich.” Mari nods, slipping her arm in mine like she knows I need comfort and contact. I swear my bestie’s going to reveal any day now with how empathetically in tune she is. Her touch helps me rebuild the walls around my heart and shake off the negative emotions as we make our way through the groups of other students and over to grab food.

Fortunately, the line is quick today and we’re seated at a booth before I know it.

“Sooooooooooo…….” Mari looks at me expectantly. “Did you do it? How did it go? When are you moving in, roomie?”

“Seriously, I texted you a hundred times yesterday,” Emma exaggerates with a dramatic pout, but it quickly morphs into a grin as she leans forward to find out.

“Not great, but not terrible,” I say, launching into the breakfast saga. The girls listen with rapt attention, Mari getting visibly angry when I tell her about my dad barking at me. I consider telling them about Miller. His possessive posturing and the save on the staircase, but my feelings are so confused about him that I keep it to myself. Instead, I end with my dad’s ultimatum about driving.

“Jeez, girl, that’s kind of a lot.” Mari frowns sympathetically, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand.

“No, this is amazing! We just need to make driving your bitch. I can teach you easy enough!” Emma promises, bouncing up and down in her seat. “And we’ll be really careful about it.”

Appetite long forgotten, I push my lunch away and toy with the ends of my hair, not ready to meet their eyes. Gnawing at my lip, I struggle with how to express my thoughts .

“I love you, but it’s not a good idea, Em. You’re too important… I couldn’t live with myself…” My words choke off, a ball of emotions lodging in my throat and making it impossible to speak. Understanding, Emma bumps me with her shoulder, then slings an arm around me, and pulls me into a hug.

“Say less. We’ll find you a good driving school. One with a billion different pedals in the car so the instructor can take over anytime.” Her nearness calms my panic. The way she so easily accepts my limitations and loves me, anyway. There’s no one in this world like these girls, and if I never find a soulmate, it won’t matter because I have soul sisters.

The booth we’re sitting in lurches, and a looming presence shadows our booth.

“Hey, omega,” a voice booms, “I’d love to teach you to drive stick.”

Scoffing at the thinly veiled innuendo, I roll my eyes and twist to face the eavesdropping jerk. Being an omega, even on a big campus, brings a level of notoriety. Most Alphas don’t bother with me anymore. After a few ill-fated attempts at dating during freshman year, I’ve taken myself off the market. And as if by magic, word spread through the school. Most days, no one bothers me, and I appreciate it.

But I guess today is not that day. A man with shaggy blond hair and a round, youthful face looms over us, a goofy grin on his face. His eyes hold no malice, and I relax a fraction. The cheeky grin he tosses my way urges me to play along, offering a distraction from the heavy moment.

Pursing my lips, I tap a finger against my chin .

“Hummm. That’s an interesting offer. I think I might be more of an automatic girl, though,” I joke, and Emma snorts.

“Awww. I promise my stick’s not too complicated. I’m a real good teacher,” he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows. Without my sense of smell, it’s nearly impossible to tell if he’s an Alpha, and his size is just a bit larger than average. The flirty behavior throws me off, but it’s also nice to be noticed.

“And do you have a big stick, cutie?” Emma chimes in, goading him. He flicks his eyes down her body, grin widening.

“Huge. Big enough to satisfy all three of you.” His boastful promise meets with a thick rumble of laughter from inside his booth and a hand comes out of nowhere and pops him on the back of the head. “Ouch, asshole! Don’t make me look stupid in front of the pretty ladies.”

“You’re already doing that all on your own,” another deep voice jokes before the booth shakes again.

Another friendly face pops over the top with a toothy grin. This one has short black hair, dark flashing eyes, and rough stubble that only adds to his attractiveness. The new addition runs his eyes over our little group before settling on me. The heat in his gaze becomes obvious, blatant, and I recoil.

It’s always the same—any time a male shows interest in me, my body shuts it down— like it knows this man isn’t the right one for us. The stupid anosmia makes it hard for me to figure out if someone is potentially compatible, and more importantly, it’s nearly impossible to determine if their motives are pure.

A scentless omega in a scented world .

“Please excuse my idiotic best friend, Wyatt. He has a severe case of foolitis. I’m Alex, and my dad owns a local driving school…”