Back in the classroom, Elliott had slipped right back into his dignified-if-aloof persona when River entered for his afternoon class. The boys were waiting for him with a stool reserved and he relished the opportunity to breeze right past the alpha without a second look. He looked, though. River could feel his eyes on him from door to desk.

It tickled his skin; it remembered him.

Too bad. He and the boys had a project to work on and it was currently well behind schedule. The greetings and small talk were rushed along by Ilex, who must have had the same concerns. Everyone was well, no major life updates, the girls were their standard selves.

Their professor bustled about, pretending not to assist but asking leading questions and poking holes in points he didn’t see the point of. By the time he scooted past their table they at least had enough on paper to appear like they hadn’t spent almost a week doing nothing.

“Mmm, and where exactly are you citing this from?” he asked, tapping at Sky’s screen. “Hmm. I’ve not seen another academic try to stretch an entire essay out of that statement…” he hinted to Rowan. “Have you nothing more recent to pull from?” he grumbled in Ilex’s ear, watching him search for a printout to explain a quotation he planned to use.

When he reached River he stumbled back half a step and nodded without comment, a little flustered behind his glasses, and hurried to another table. The boys attempted to hide their sighs.

“So, our project is garbage,” Sky summarised under his breath.

“That’s not what he said,” River said soothingly. “And anyway, we’re in the earliest stage, so the fact that he didn’t totally rip it to shreds shows we’re on the right track for this point in the process.”

Ilex sunk his face into his hands. “We need a study night in the diary asap.”

“That’ll all depend on when mr socialite is free,” Rowan teased.

River rolled his eyes and dug his diary out of his tote bag. It was decorated with dried flowers he had pressed himself, and the pages were scruffy and dog-eared.

“I’ve got coffee with some friends after this class, but could squeeze some time into the evening,” he mumbled as he slid his index finger along the days’ events laid out in a variety of ink colours. “Tomorrow I have a morning lecture.” He sighed. “Then I’m going to the gym with the rowing club…” The boys tittered and he could see them shaking their heads in his peripheral. River was not a member of the rowing club. “I’ve got pieces to finish painting and I’d planned to work on them after that.” He flipped to the next pair of pages: Thursday and Friday. “Assigned reading in the library Thursday morning… maybe we could double that up… Then afternoon lectures and an Art Society meeting.” He perked, tapping at the almost-empty Friday page. “No classes this Friday, and nothing to do during the day.” He had a house party to go to in the night.

“Friday?” Rowan offered to the table.

“Friday’s good with me,” Sky answered. Ilex nodded, too. No one retrieved planners or diaries. River scribbled the plan in and put his back.

They continued to plug away at the project until the last quarter-hour of class when Rowan murmured into the centre of the table, “He’s staring.”

“Who?” River whispered back.

“Your scenter,” Rowan grunted, prompting the other two guys to peek behind them in the direction of Elliott’s group.

River’s cheeks burned, and he took a minute to compose himself before turning, too.

Elliott didn’t flinch, blatantly observing him from his table as though River were a creature in a tank that amused him. His group didn’t bother to try and steal his attention back. River tilted his head, and earned a smirk that felt dirty, not that he could explain why. Call it a scent sense…

“It’s fine,” he told his friends. He swivelled back to their work. “Don’t worry.”

They raised no more complaints, and he was grateful for it. It wasn’t like he had any control over the alpha and what he did. There was nothing he could do if they didn’t like the way he was behaving.

Divvying up the work to be done between now and their study day, it was impossible not to notice that River was handed the lightest load. They refused to re-distribute, and he had a sad feeling in his chest that they still felt guilty at having watched him get scent-marked. Without being able to disway them, he decided to try and feel grateful that he would have more time for everything else on his plate.

Speaking of his full plate - he had to get to a coffee shop on the other side of campus and meet Emerald and Honeysuckle. River packed his bag and power-walked from the room the moment they were dismissed, well-ahead of the student surge.

As he hurried through the building, he tried to prepare himself for the inescapable topic that would be on the tip of his friends’ tongues this afternoon: his new scent. He’d had this coffee catch-up in the diary for a while, but there was no way they wouldn’t use it to grill him on all-things-alpha. Emerald and Honeysuckle were both in his fine art class, and he was pretty sure he’d received notes from them in their last lecture together - the kind with nosey questions. They were also both in the choir, and not above using any excuse for an attempt to coerce River into joining.

He sighed out his nerves and pushed one of the double doors to the outside world, re-filling his lungs with fresh, crisp air.

A handful of steps from the exit, large feet crunched over the light frost on the path behind him. River didn’t peek over his shoulder, if he couldn’t smell their unique scent, he knew exactly who it was.

“Now that you’re in your right - sober - mind,” Elliott began, swooping in at his side and falling into step with him, “I need to know how you’ve been describing our arrangement to people.”

“Good afternoon to you too,” River said.

Elliott grinned, but didn’t allow him to sidetrack from the question. He was unfortunately very handsome, and the smile worsened that fact.

“I’ve mostly been avoiding it,” River admitted. “Or saying that it was an accident.”

Elliott laughed under his breath. “Great. You’re feeding them prime rumour fodder.”

“I am not! I was trying to be vague for both of our sakes.”

“And when you decide you want more?”

River scoffed. “I’ve had quite enough of you, Elliott.”

Elliott slowed, smiling still. “That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name.”

“And you hardly deserve it after calling me little and weak.”

“You’re more than welcome to show me how big and strong you are.”

River rolled his eyes and sped up. Elliott followed.

“Well? I’m waiting, petal.” Again with the nickname that felt like a caress.

“What do you want me to tell people, then?” He forced himself to look up and meet his eyes. “What have you been telling people?”

“I’ve been telling them to mind their damn business.”

“Okay, well I’m not doing that.”

“I figured.” He chuckled like River was predictable. Like he knew him too well.

“It will fade soon,” River assured himself. “I can wait it out and then no one will care anymore.”

“Sure.” There was a glint in Elliott’s eyes that told River he did not want to know what he was thinking. But at least with that final word he stopped following, although he could feel his eyes on his back all the way to the next turn.

×

“Alpha Elliott,” Honeysuckle cooed over her coffee. “And where did you meet that fine man?”

Emerald giggled at her side, sprinkling brown sugar over her cinnamon latte.

“Art History,” River answered. There was no meet-cute story to tell, they shared a class, he smothered him in his scent, happily ever after.

“Ugh, I should have done the combined option like you,” Emerald whined. “Maybe there’s still time for a swap?”

Honeysuckle swiped her shoulder playfully. “Em!”

“What?”

“You can’t change your degree because of one hot alpha.”

“He’s the only hot alpha!”

They laughed together, clinking their cups in solidarity to Elliott’s hotness.

“If only I’d known,” Emerald sighed. “All this time I assumed tall, dark and handsome was stalking across campus to study Law or something serious like that.”

“Medicine,” Honeysuckle tacked on. “Or politics.”

“Art is serious too!” River bleated.

Honeysuckle rolled her eyes. “We know, we wouldn’t be spending a small fortune on fine art degrees if we didn’t take it seriously.”

“Knowing he’s into art is even better,” Emerald said dreamily, completely ignoring River’s indignation. “Do you think he likes music too?”

River wanted to sink his face into his hands. “I can see exactly where your mind is wandering, Em, and I can assure you he is not interested in joining the choir.” He sipped his hibiscus tea and willed the time to pass quicker. He usually enjoyed a catch-up with them, but he was tired of talking about Elliott. Not because he didn’t fascinate him, too, but because it irked him to see them salivate over him.

Emerald giggled. “Maybe I just want to serenade him.”

“Okay, you’re going too far now,” Honeysuckle scolded over the rim of her cup. She sucked carefully at the rim of the steaming hot Americano. “That’s his mate.”

“Sorry, River, I’m only being silly.”

“It’s fine.” River smiled. It wasn’t. “But I wouldn’t say we’re mates… just…” He laughed awkwardly. “It’s complicated.”

The women nodded, nursing their drinks with thoughtful expressions.

“Well, I hope it works out.”

“Thanks, Honeysuckle.”

“I hope it works out but if it doesn’t that he decides to transfer to our major.”

Honeysuckle groaned. “Girl, if you don’t get laid and stop acting like a fool-”

“So, how is the choir going?” River asked, his smile tight.

“Oh, don’t get me started!” Emerald laughed.

She had no idea how much River wanted her to start on any topic that wasn’t her desire for the alpha whose scent coated his throat. Anything. Talk for hours in tangent after tangent about anything but him.

“In short: it’s a mess.” Honeysuckle shook her head. “The sheet music got misprinted for the show we’re doing with the local retirement choirs.”

“So we all have slightly different versions,” Emerald added.

“And then that guy who swears up and down he is a tenor-”

Emerald scoffed. “He’s not.”

“-is trying to steal this solo part out from under this shy kid who’s actually really good.”

“But he’s a submissive beta!”

“And Mr Not A Tenor is a dominant beta.” Honeysuckle gave up on trying to skim the top layer of her coffee and put it to the table to let it cool properly. “So it’s becoming more a battle of social positioning than good vocals.”

“Oh!” Emerald hurriedly slurped at her cup between excited outbursts. “And tell him about that new rule they made up.”

Honeysuckle explained the bulldozing of a new choir master at a school they often collaborated with and his ad-libbed rules. Then a tale of a terrible voice crack mid-performance. And River listened and nodded and let them run through every remotely interesting thing they could think of until their cups were empty and the sun was setting. The Elliott topic did not return, thankfully, and they walked him back to his house share chattering about their personal painting projects.

That was top of River’s list for tomorrow. Art. That thing he was supposed to be immersing himself in for three years. He would prioritise his painting… after the gym and his lectures, that was. He flopped onto his bed and sighed, another full day on the horizon.