Page 18 of The Drama King
I rolled my eyes, but couldn't stop the slight smile. "Not all of us have had personal trainers since age twelve."
"Excuses." He stood, close enough that I had to resist stepping back. Dorian never respected personal space—part power play, part something else neither of us acknowledged outside certain moments. "We're meeting Corvus in an hour. Library."
"I know. He's giving his report on the scholarship girl."
Something flashed across Dorian's face. "You sound almost interested."
"Just curious what makes her different from the others." I reached past him for my water bottle, our arms brushing.
"We'll find out soon enough," he said, voice dropping slightly. "Shower first?"
The question was casual, but there was nothing casual about the way his eyes held mine, challenging and inviting at once. This was our dance—had been since prep school—him leading, me following, neither of us putting words to what happened between us.
"Sure," I said, aiming for nonchalance. "Save water and all that."
His laugh was low as he turned toward the adjoining bathroom. "Ever the environmentalist?"
The Ashworths' gym bathroom was luxurious—multiple shower heads, steam settings, imported marble. Dorian was already stripping off his workout clothes when I followed him in, his movements confident and unhurried. He never showed self-consciousness about his body—why would he? Years of carefully regimented training had sculpted him into something worthy of classical sculpture.
I kept my eyes averted as I undressed, a habit from years of locker rooms and shared spaces that persisted despite our history. The rush of water filled the silence as Dorian stepped into the massive shower stall.
"Coming?" He glanced over his shoulder, water already running down his back.
I stepped in, keeping what little distance the space allowed. The water was perfect and for a moment we simply stood under the spray, washing away the sweat of our workout.
"Turn around," he said suddenly, reaching for the shampoo. "Your hair's a disaster."
"I can wash my own hair," I protested, but turned anyway.
His fingers were firm against my scalp, the gesture somehow both possessive and caring. We'd done this countless times, this strange intimacy that existed alongside everything else. Friendship, pack dynamics, occasional sex—all blurring into something neither of us had names for.
"Corvus thinks this scholarship girl is special," he said, his voice casual while his hands remained in my hair. "I'm curious what has impressed him."
I closed my eyes, letting the water run down my face. "You never take interest in scholarship students unless you plan to destroy them."
"Maybe I'm evolving," he said, though his tone suggested otherwise.
I turned to face him, closer now, the steam wrapping around us. "Are you?"
His eyes darkened, pupils dilating slightly. "Don't mistake curiosity for mercy, Oak."
The nickname, the one only he used, sent a familiar warmth through me. His hand moved to my shoulder, then traced down my arm, leaving goosebumps despite the heat.
"Never," I whispered, though part of me always hoped there was more to Dorian than the ruthless Alpha he presented to the world. I'd seen glimpses of it over the years, some moments of genuine care, of vulnerability. They were rare and always quickly masked.
His lips brushed mine, barely a kiss, more a reminder of what could happen later if I played my role correctly. "Good. Corvus will be waiting. Don't be late."
He stepped out of the shower, leaving me alone under the spray, my body humming with unresolved tension. Typical Dorian. He was always ensuring I was off-balance, always in control.
By the time I finished and dressed, he was already gone, likely heading to the library ahead of me. I took my time, needing the distance to clear my head. To remember that no matter what happened between us in private moments, in public we had roles to play—him the ruthless Alpha leader, me his loyal lieutenant, both of us dedicated to maintaining the social hierarchy that kept us on top.
Even if sometimes, in quiet moments like these, I wondered what it would be like if we were just Dorian and Oakley, without the games, without the cruelty to others.
Just us,
Anhourlater,Iscrolled through Instagram, half-listening to Corvus and Dorian discuss the scholarship Omega. TheAshworth library always felt too stuffy—all leather and old wood and expectations—but it beat studying in my own room. Plus, Dorian expected me here, which meant I had to be here.
"So? How'd it go with our scholarship Omega?" Dorian's voice cut through my thoughts. He didn't look up from his casting notes, but I could hear the interest. My skin still tingled from our shower, but here in the library, it was as if nothing had happened between us—exactly as he preferred it.