Page 8 of Want It All
I didn’t attend all the 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 by process .
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, to teach 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 would not leave me alone.
She was clever about it, never giving me the opportunity to refuse her outright; she just appeared every 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 like so glad to be back in Greece and lucky 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 even I knew, 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 at various 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 .
‘Ready.’
I swallowed as she stepped outside. She was wearing a high-waisted dark green skirt with a cream blouse, and my mind went blank. The entire outfit was tight to the skin and she had the kind of figure that belonged in a Golden Age film.
I hitched my bag on my shoulder and cleared my throat. ‘Great,’ I said inanely, because it was all my lust-addled alpha brain could manage.
We didn’t chat as we walked down the stairs, but it wasn’t an awkward silence.
All I could hope was that she didn’t think I’d gotten into Banksia because of my mother.
The administration insisted that I sat all the entrance tests, then begrudgingly told my parents that I ranked somewhere in the middle of the cohort.
Rosemary didn’t seem to mind that I was quiet, though.
We lined up for food. She eyed the waffles with the kind of wistful look that would give me a coronary if it were ever aimed my way, but when we got to the serving station, she asked for Bircher muesli, instead.
I studied her from the corner of my eye.
Omegas craved sweetness like bees needed pollen; they burned energy at a higher rate than an alpha in a rut.
I knew that Bircher muesli would never have cut it for Tina.
When I stepped up to the serving station and the man behind it smiled at me, I asked for an omelette and the waffles, which I piled with every topping I could.
Rosemary blinked at me but didn’t comment; I followed her through the dining hall, ignoring the stares from other students and, when we sat, I offered her a waffle.
She frowned at me. ‘They’re yours.’
‘We can share.’
She held out for longer than I was expecting, finishing half her muesli before she tentatively slid a waffle covered in maple syrup from my plate and demolished it in small, neat bites. When I offered her another, she smiled, full and honest.
‘Thank you, alpha.’
I tried to shove down the satisfaction that came with those words. My instincts were less easy to deal with, purring silently with approval as she bit into the food I’d chosen.
‘Fuck, yes!’ came another voice; a moment later, Sebastian plonked himself down next to Rosemary with a grin, holding a plate heaped with his own pile of waffles. Tristan followed with a plate of toast and fruit. He nodded in greeting, then sat beside me.
‘Griffiths,’ he said.
‘Grace,’ I returned.
Neither of us commented on whatever the fuck was happening, and the four of us just … sat together.
As if we were friends.
Or something.
Sebastian shot me a grin, and I forced myself not to react to it.
I wondered how long it had taken Tristan to become immune to that smile, or if he ever had.
Between the pretty beta and lovely omega, it was a wonder that I could concentrate enough to chew.
They looked incredible together: Sebastian with his summer glow and Rosemary with her quiet autumn beauty, like two seasons come to life.
My instincts purred again.
Sebastian nudged Rosemary with his elbow. ‘Are you ready for day one?’
She shoved a forkful of waffle in her mouth. ‘I will be.’
‘Coffee,’ Tristan muttered, raking his hands through his curls. ‘Need coffee.’
Clearly, I wasn’t the only one struggling with my instincts.
‘Griffiths?’
Tristan stared down at me, one eyebrow raised, and my stomach tightened. I shook myself, realising he was asking for my coffee order. ‘Flat white. Thanks.’
He rolled his eyes in an of course kind of way. ‘Rose?’
She gave a shy smile. ‘A chai latte. Thank you.’
‘Hmph,’ Tristan answered, and strode away from the table.
Sebastian watched his alpha leave with a hooded smile, then met my gaze. His smile turned playful. ‘Something in the air this morning, alpha? First day nerves, maybe?’
I raised an eyebrow. He knew exactly what was happening, the menace. ‘Something in the air,’ I agreed blandly.
Rosemary – Rose , they’d called her – gave us a perplexed look, so I shoved the last of my omelette into my mouth, feigning a calm I didn’t feel.
Thankfully, Tristan returned quickly with the coffees. Sebastian finished his waffles, then poached a spoonful of almond butter from my plate, grinning as he licked his spoon clean in a way that made my entire body go tight.
I stood before I could embarrass myself. ‘I’m out,’ I said shortly. Rose moved to stand; I shook my head. ‘Finish your breakfast, omega. See you in class.’