Page 26 of Want It All

‘How has your week been, darling?’

My mother’s voice was comforting. It felt like warm hugs and safe places, like cosy winter mornings and kisses on the forehead.

‘It, um –’ I faltered.

I was trying not to be dramatic, but I hadn’t had a week this bad in quite some time.

Fifty-two .

The thing was, it was a pass mark. It was fine. Thousands of students would respond to a mark of fifty-two with nothing more than a relieved sigh. They’d skim through their comments and put the entire thing from their minds, because who cared? It was a pass.

But before this, my lowest mark – ever – had been eighty-three.

I was a high achiever. It was the cornerstone of my personality. If I wasn’t that, then I didn’t know who I was.

Moreover, the conditions of my scholarship depended on me getting higher marks than that. A lot higher.

I cleared my throat and tried again. ‘It hasn’t been the best week.’

‘Are you safe?’ Mum said immediately. I could hear the concern in her voice, and a rustle of movement, as if she’d just sat up straight.

‘I’m safe.’ I cleared my throat again. ‘I, um, just got a bad mark on an essay.’

‘Oh, little love.’ Mum didn’t tell me it was silly; she knew how much it meant to me. ‘Do you know what happened?’

I’d combed through the comments so thoroughly it felt as if they’d been tattooed on my brain. You should seriously consider whether you deserve your place here . ‘Ah. I … um. Needed more sources. My argument wasn’t strong enough. And my writing was poor.’

I could almost hear my mum frown. ‘You’ve never written poorly in your entire life, Rosie.’

My parents were both primary school teachers. They’d encouraged my interests from an early age and read every essay I wrote during my school years. They only stopped during my undergraduate degree because my dad declared you’ve bypassed me, darling. I can’t keep up .

‘I, um. I must have messed this one up.’

‘Okay.’ Mum was quiet for a moment. ‘Would you like us to look it over?’

It was kind of her to offer, but I didn’t think it would help anything. I was so angry at Heathcote – and angry at myself – that I wanted to scream. ‘No, that’s okay. I’ll just … I’ll just do better next time.’

Mum and I chatted for a few minutes; my dad hollered hullo from the background. I imagined him sitting at their kitchen table, doing a sudoku. The thought made my chest tight.

I missed them, I realised. I’d been so caught up with Banksia House that I hadn’t thought much about home, and I hadn’t known how much I’d needed to hear their voices.

Mum told me she loved me, and I told her the same; I hung up and slumped on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.

I’ll just do better next time , I’d told mum, but I was finding it difficult to concentrate, my confidence shot to pieces by Heathcote’s comments.

You should seriously consider whether you deserve your place here .

My phone buzzed. I ignored it at first, but the buzzing continued. I answered it listlessly. ‘Why can’t you text like everyone else?’

‘Rude,’ Sebastian said. ‘And I’ve sent you like, ten texts now, Rosebud, and some super cute cat videos and a collection of pretty good history memes, and you haven’t even seen them. Calling is a last resort.’

‘Seb, I saw you three hours ago.’

‘Three hours is too long. Come study with me.’

‘I …’ I closed my eyes. ‘I don’t think I can.’

‘Which is exactly why you need to,’ Sebastian said ruthlessly. I hadn’t told him my mark, just that it was much lower than I’d been expecting. ‘If you don’t study, sweetness, then that asshole wins . And we don’t let alphas win, do we?’

I made a non-committal sound. It certainly seemed like alphas won at most things.

‘Okay, different approach. Rosebud, if you don’t come out of your room in the next two minutes, I’m going to set off the fire alarm and you’ll have to come out.’

I opened my eyes. ‘You wouldn’t.’

‘My hand is on it. Literally.’

‘They’ll know it was you!’

He snorted. ‘Do you think I care?’ His voice dropped. ‘Come on, Rose. We don’t have to study if you don’t want to. We could go for a walk instead.’

‘A walk?’

‘Outside,’ he confirmed. ‘Bring your hat; it’s sunny. We’ll take a page from Tristan’s book and go say hello to some trees. It’ll be character building, or something.’

I smiled despite myself. ‘Okay.’

After we hung up, I took a moment to rake my hands through my hair and brush my teeth, before grabbing my hat and spraying myself with scent canceller.

When I finished, Sebastian was waiting outside my room, his sunglasses hooked on the collar of his shirt.

They dragged the material down, baring a mouthwatering stretch of skin.

He shot me a megawatt smile. ‘Come on,’ he said, taking my hand. ‘Tris is waiting outside, but he promised he’d give us space. We can walk, just you and me.’

‘You and me alone is dangerous,’ I said without thinking.

‘I think the term is incendiary ,’ Sebastian answered.

I flushed. He was so beautiful that it was hard to believe he really thought that, but he was here, with me , and his grip was firm around my fingers. He hooked a lock of hair behind my ear with his free hand, then rubbed his thumb across my cheekbone, as if he couldn’t help himself.

‘You know what else trees are good for?’ he purred.

I shot him a startled glance. ‘What?’

‘Making out under.’

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. ‘Seb –’

‘Don’t worry, I’m joking. Unless you want to, in which case I’m as serious as a first-year politics student.’

I laughed.

‘Honestly, Rose. Literally any time. Any. Time . You could knock on my door at three in the morning and I’d make out with you. Whenever, wherever.’

I knew I should have been more sensible, but the pull in my chest was so strong. I lifted his hand to my lips and brushed a kiss over his knuckles. ‘It should be somewhere private next time.’

I looked up to find him staring at me, his blue eyes sparkling in the afternoon light. He leaned closer. ‘You don’t know what I’d do – what I’d give – to take you somewhere private, Rose,’ he murmured. ‘You don’t know how badly I want you to myself, just for a little while.’

The pull in my chest turned painfully tight. ‘Seb,’ I said again, but it came out more like a breathy little whine.

He swallowed, then looked away. ‘Come on, Rosebud. I promised trees, so trees are what you’ll get.’

It wasn’t until after we’d walked across the green beyond the manor’s wide back doors that I noticed Tristan, trailing after us from a distance, seemingly engrossed in his phone. I knew better than that, though; whatever he was doing, one eye would always be on us.

If it was anyone else, I’d feel creeped out. But Tristan made me feel safe in the same way Byron did – as if neither of them would hesitate to leap between us and danger.

It was also difficult to forget the way he’d looked that day at the beach. I shivered, remembering the way he’d tugged his shirt over his head, my memory catching on the hard planes of his chest and the lines of muscle crossing his stomach.

Sebastian pulled me past the maze and into the line of trees to the south.

They were all towering river red gums, covered in alien-looking white flowers.

I breathed in deeply, filling my lungs with the scent of eucalyptus.

It was cathartic, being able to smell something natural after being so long inside the manor, where the air was full of the artificial, metallic scent of cancellers.

I picked up some fallen leaves and crushed them between my fingers, breathing more of it in.

‘It’s weird, isn’t it?’ Sebastian said musingly.

‘Being without human scent. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve lost a limb.

Even though our scents outside Banksia are technically muted from the blockers in the water, it’s still …

comforting … having an echo of them. But here, where there’s nothing at all … It’s almost eerie.’

‘I didn’t realise betas had such good noses,’ I said absently.

I looked up in time to see a flush of pink spreading across his cheeks. ‘I don’t know how it is for others, but my sense of smell is pretty good. I’ve always been able to pick up scents easily.’ He bit his lip, as if considering what to say next, then blurted out: ‘I wish I could scent you.’

Fuck, I wished the same thing. Would Sebastian be sweet? A floral scent, perhaps? Or would he have a lifestyle scent, like leather? Or some other nature scent, like rain or freshly cut grass?

Whatever it was, I was sure it would be delicious.

But just like with Byron, if I scented Sebastian, this was over. The delicious anticipation would be replaced by biology. And if I didn’t like his scent, I’d lose someone who made my stomach flutter. Someone who made me dream.

It would be difficult to be friends with Sebastian Worthy, knowing how he made my stomach tighten. I’d always remember what might have been, and it would colour what was .

I wasn’t sure how I’d handle that.

‘I wish it didn’t matter,’ I whispered.

He smiled. ‘Does it have to?’

‘What do you mean?’

His eyes were intent as his fingers found my chin, gently tilting my face up.

I could have drowned in his gaze, in that limitless sapphire lapping at the sharp edges of my soul, soothing and caressing.

Those eyes darkened as they searched my face, his pupils dilating in a way that made my instincts squirm.

Our pretty beta , they crooned.

Not ours , I reminded them, but it was hard to hold onto that as Sebastian’s thumb traced my bottom lip.

‘I think,’ he said, a moment – a lifetime – later, ‘that some things must be stronger than scent, stronger than biology. If you scent me, and I smell like a public pool bathroom, then I’ll take blockers and use cancellers every fucking day, if it means I’ll get to stay close to you.’

The air left my lungs. ‘Fuck, Sebastian.’ I rose up on my toes, as if I couldn’t help myself, and I brushed my lips over his.