Brrrrrrrrgghhh!!!

The alarm clock blared, jolting Emma awake. Raising her head groggily, still under the lingering spell of sleep, she stretched out a weak hand and hit the tap button on the triangular clock—her most loyal morning companion since high school.

The alarm went silent for a few blissful moments before erupting again, vibrating with violent enthusiasm—ever committed to its sacred duty of banishing sleep to the farthest corners of the earth.

Brrrrrrrrgghhh!!! It went again. And again.

Emma groaned, tapping it repeatedly, annoyed that the stubborn thing had finally succeeded in prying sleep from her eyes. She threw off her covers and squinted at the glowing numbers.
7:00 a.m.

“Too early,” she muttered, dropping back onto the lush bed in an attempt to coax sleep’s return.

But then her phone started ringing.

“Who calls this early on a Monday morning?” she mumbled, reaching for the device. The number wasn’t saved. “Who could this be?” she asked herself, rubbing her forehead tiredly.

She almost declined the call but changed her mind at the last second.

“Hello,” a sing-song voice greeted cheerfully.

Clem. He’d collected her number yesterday.

Yesterday, he had shown up unannounced in the afternoon, catching her in the middle of a battle with the electric cooker that had clearly developed a personality of its own. 

“I wanted to see how you were settling in,” he’d said, flashing that disarming smile of his.

He’d been nice, polite, and attentive. He didn’t mock her for not knowing how to use the appliances. Instead, he’d shown her patiently, even offering to cook the noodles himself.

And over  dinner, he’d filled the silence with light conversation, steering them into personal territory until they were both laughing and trading small secrets. That was when she learned about his unusual fear—thunder and lightning.

“How am I supposed to believe a full-grown, handsome man like you is scared of lightning?” she had teased.

But Clem wasn’t joking. The phobia dated back to his childhood. He and Derek had sneaked into the forest one stormy night, barely six years old, hunting for rabbits—or so they’d told themselves. When the skies broke open, the two boys had sought shelter under a massive tree, unaware of the black soldier ants crawling up the trunk.

The ants had invaded their clothes before unleashing painful stings. Screaming, they’d burst into the rain, flailing wildly—only for Clem to be struck by lightning on the buttocks mid-escape. He’d fainted instantly, and when he woke, it was to his mother’s furious stare. He’d been grounded for two weeks.

Emma had laughed until her sides hurt.

Later, between giggles, she’d asked, “Do you know where I can get a job? I’m broke right now.”

Clem had blinked at her in surprise. “You don’t have money?”

“Not really,” she replied, tracing invisible patterns on the table. She hadn’t wanted to tell him the full story—not about her father, not about the decision that had driven her here. She didn’t want him to think she was trouble.

“Oh, okay,” he’d said, nodding slowly. “I might know a place. Want to check it out?”

And so they had strolled around the county until they found a coffee shop. After Clem had a word with the manager, Emma got the job on the spot. It wasn’t close to home, but it was near the campus. She could stop by after classes.

“Thanks, Clem,” she had said sincerely. The guy was already in her good books.

“You’re welcome,” he’d smiled. “Give me your number. I’ll pick you up for school— since you don’t have a car yet.”

That was how they’d exchanged contacts.
But she hadn’t saved his.

Now, hearing his voice over the phone, she smiled faintly.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know who’s speaking,” Clem said, sounding half-teasing, half-hurt.

Emma chuckled softly. He really was hooked.

“Clem,” she said finally, warmth coloring her tone. “How are you doing?”

“Your voice sounds so drowsy,” he teased. “Were you sleeping when I called?”

“Yes, of course. What else would I be doing?” Emma muttered, her words slurring toward the end. 

“Emma…” Clem drawled.

“Yes…” she drawled back, still trying to figure out why he had chosen now of all times to ruin her beauty sleep. The guy clearly didn’t understand the concept of proper timing. She wasn’t a morning person—never had been.

It was always Amelia who made sure she was up for school back in the day. Emma had lost count of how many times she’d thrown her alarm clock across the room.

 Once, it had even smacked her father squarely in the face. Yet the stubborn thing still rang faithfully every morning, much to her annoyance.

“Today is Monday,” Clem said, putting an exaggerated southern drawl on the word Monday, as if trying to emphasize something important.

“Clem…” Emma called, sitting up fully in bed, irritation creeping into her voice.

 Did this guy just wake me up on a Monday morning to tell me it’s Monday? she thought incredulously. Of course she knew what day it was. So what about it?

“Yes?” 

“Why did you call?” she asked flatly.

“Well, today is Monday, and we…”

“I know it’s Monday! What about it?” Emma snapped, cutting him off mid-sentence. Didn’t he realize he was flirting with danger, disturbing her sleep like this?

“We agreed that I would pick you up for school,” Clem said quickly, sensing her patience thinning.

“School? Oh my god!” Emma shrieked, suddenly remembering. Today was her first day of college, and Clem had promised to pick her up. 

How did I forget that? she muttered, pressing her thumb to her lips.

A glance at her bedside clock made her scream again. She threw off the sheets and jumped out of bed, phone still clutched to her ear. She had to meet the rector by 7:15 a.m., and it was already 7:30. She hadn’t even showered.

“Clem…” she called, praying he was still on the line.

“Yes,” Clem answered, trying to stifle his laughter. The human would not take it well if she heard him chuckling. She had a fiery temper—and apparently, a short memory too. 

He couldn’t believe she had already forgotten their plan. Or maybe it was just the sleep; he couldn’t tell.

“Could you still pick me up? I know you might—”

“It’s okay, Emma,” he cut in smoothly. “I’ll be at your house in ten minutes. Five, tops. Just be ready.”

“Oh my goodness… thanks, Clem!” she blurted before ending the call.

Clem stared at his phone, still smiling. One step taken, a few more to go. He couldn’t help wondering if she would be as feisty in bed as she was awake. He hoped so. He was really counting on it.

“Hey, Clem.”

He turned to see his twin standing in the doorway, eyes narrowed. He hadn’t even heard her come in. Hopefully, she hadn’t overheard the conversation.

“Why are you smiling at your phone?” She stepped into the room proper.

“It’s none of your business, Claire,” he snapped, his tone sharper than intended. The reminder of how she had bullied Emma at the eatery still irked him. 

Claire was a handful—obsessed with Derek and too quick to pick fights. He prayed she wouldn’t cross Emma’s path again. Those two together? A disaster waiting to happen.

“Hmm, okay,” Claire said casually. She turned as if to leave, then spun back at the last second, snatching the phone from his hand.

Clem froze, completely caught off guard. He’d relaxed too soon, forgetting that his twin was as sly as she was fast. They shared the same reflexes—and she knew how to use them.

“Emma?” Claire muttered as she unlocked his phone. The name sounded familiar. “Oh right… the petty human from the eatery.” 

Her brows furrowed. But why does he have her number?

“Claire, can I have my phone back now?” Clem said through clenched teeth. Judging by the look on her face, she’d already pieced it together.

“What are you doing with her number?” she demanded. What is it with everyone and this human? First the Luna, now her brother?

“It’s none of your business,” Clem repeated, snatching the phone from her grip.

“Okay then,” she said lightly, dropping the subject—for now. But she would find out later. She’s supposed to be an enemy, for god’s sake, Claire seethed inwardly.

“Aren’t you going to school?” Clem asked, noting that she was still in her nightwear.

“No. I want to train.” Then she exploded, “You know, I don’t understand y’all in this pack. We’re going to war in less than a month, and everyone’s off to school! I guess that’s the Alpha’s fault.” She crossed her arms, glaring.

“Claire, you know we have to keep up appearances—to reduce suspicion,” Clem said, standing up from the bed. He was done arguing with her about this.

“But we have—”

“Claire,” he interrupted, placing both hands on her shoulders, “we’ll figure it out later.” He had to cut her off, or he’d be late picking up Emma.

She huffed, giving him one last pointed look—mainly at the phone still in his hand—before stalking out of the room.