Roofing

Freya's POV

Nobody's home when I get back, same as always. After showering, I throw on pajama pants and a tank top, then scrutinize myself in the mirror. There's zero chance anyone in this house misses that massive hickey on my neck. I'd been careful hiding it under my hair all day, but even Harper caught it. We were sipping smoothies at the cafe after my interview with Owen, the manager, when Harper cracked up and said, "Oh, boy, poor Nolan, he never stood a chance, huh?" Her eyes kept drifting to the bruise the entire time. Nolan had looked anywhere but at me, pretending he hadn't noticed or heard a word Harper said.

It's impossible to miss, honestly. Caleb definitely won't be thrilled. He's ridiculously overprotective lately. I'm technically an adult, yet my cousin still treats me like some twelve-year-old.

I refuse to hole up in my room avoiding everyone until this thing fades. I did enough hiding back at Night Shade Pack, and I despised every second of it.

Ugh, fine, decision made. I wrap a light cream-colored cotton scarf around my neck. Looks absolutely absurd paired with pajamas, but whatever, no other option exists. Scarf with pajamas? Sure, why not. I'm owning this bizarre fashion choice completely.

With that settled, I wander into the living room determined to finally finish Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. Solid book, genuinely. Except somehow I've been staring blankly at the same page for fifteen straight minutes, absorbing absolutely nothing. My fingers drift beneath the scarf without permission, tracing the hickey absently. I can practically feel his mouth again, warm and wet, those sharp canines grazing my skin. One powerful hand splayed across my back, another tangled in my hair at the nape of my neck. His body pressed hot against mine. My breathing turns ragged just remembering it. Goosebumps erupt everywhere and a tiny moan slips out before I can stop it. Oh god! I bolt upright instantly, eyes wide, slapping a hand over my traitorous mouth. Seriously, Freya?

Thank god nobody witnessed that. Is it stuffy in here suddenly? I fan myself frantically. Maybe another shower's necessary, a cold one this time, because apparently California decided tonight needed to feel like a furnace.

I genuinely cannot stop thinking about him, which is completely ridiculous. I've been fixated since the literal first second I spotted him. Today somehow made everything worse. Seriously, how often does some gorgeous, decidedly non-human guy corner the girl who's already been secretly crushing on him and leave her with an actual hickey? I still can't properly process whatever happened afterward. He acted entitled, like he owned me somehow, like I already belonged to him. It mirrors exactly how werewolves back at Night Shade Pack behaved once they located their mates, and honestly, that similarity terrifies me most of all. Surprisingly he backed off afterward, though I definitely felt his intense stare tracking me on and off throughout the entire day.

I enjoy checking out attractive guys same as any normal straight girl would. Nothing wrong with simply looking, right? I refuse to believe I'm shallow enough to fixate purely on someone's appearance, though.

I toss the book aside and grab the remote instead, mindlessly flipping through channels, exactly like my cousin does constantly. Guess I'm morphing into Caleb somehow, which is precisely how he discovers me an hour later.

Pizza smell floods the house the second he walks through the door. He drops the box onto the coffee table, then just stands there, studying me with a frown.

"Pizza!!!" I sit up instantly, clapping enthusiastically. "You're honestly the best, Caleb! Super duper amazing!" I grin up at him. Briefly, his frown vanishes completely and his expression softens.

I hop up to grab plates and drinks for us both, breaking into my signature happy dance while belting out, "Hi, friends! Are you ready? For the magic pizza song? Here we go!!! Magic, magic Pizza. Yummy Magic Pizza. What do you want on your pizzaaa??? I want cheese. I want cheese. I want pepperoni. I want pepperoni...and I want spiders!!!! Spiders? Noooo!!!!"

I catch the faintest smile tugging at his lips while he stands there, arms crossed, watching my ridiculous performance unfold.

Then I switch over to the special pizza song Nana and I used to sing together back when I was little, "Je suis une pizza. Avec du fromage. Beaucoup de sauce. Des tomates. Des oignons. Des champignons. Épices mélangées. Je suis une pizza. Prête à manger, Oh!" My voice cracks partway through and something lodges painfully in my throat, forcing me to stop singing entirely. I miss Nana so incredibly much. I drop onto the sofa abruptly, forcing a bright smile toward Caleb instead. Patting the cushion beside me, I swallow hard and say, "Come on, sit down already! I'm starving."

"You're way too much like Nana," he says, shaking his head slowly. "What's the deal with that scarf, anyway?"

"You haven't heard? Totally the latest trend right now."

"Wearing scarves indoors? Paired with pajamas specifically?"

"Uh huh..." I glance down at my pizza slice, scratching absently at my scalp. My head always gets itchy whenever I'm lying to people I actually care about. "The Kardashians started it, probably, or somebody equally influential. It's everywhere now..." I shove an enormous bite of pizza into my mouth, effectively ending that conversation.

"Someone called from some cafe earlier," Caleb says, still eyeing my scarf with obvious suspicion. "Said if you show up by five tomorrow morning, the position's officially yours."

"Yes!" I punch the air triumphantly. Pizza and a job offer, all in one single day? Incredible luck. "Wait, which cafe exactly? Please tell me it's Club Espresso Degree?"

He just shrugs those massive shoulders of his. "You really need your own phone," he says.

"Obviously I do. You're the world's least reliable receptionist."

Five minutes before five that morning, I'm standing wide awake and eager outside the dimly lit cafe. Shortly after, some girl rolls up on a skateboard and unlocks the front door.

"Hey there," she says, flashing a genuinely warm smile. "You must be the new hire. I'm Ivy."

"Freya," I offer back.

Ivy quickly walks me through everything, explaining exactly what she needs help with to get started. She promises to train me thoroughly throughout the entire shift.

I like Ivy instantly. Nose ring, multiple ear piercings, gorgeous short purple hair, plus this stunning tattoo of a bird with vibrant, colorful wings spread across the side of her neck. Black nail polish, a Grateful Dead shirt featuring skulls and roses, ripped dark denim, black Vans completing the whole aesthetic.

She introduces me shortly after to two other coworkers, Drew and Paige, who arrive roughly thirty minutes later. Drew offers a simple nod before immediately getting to work. Paige, meanwhile, gives me a slow, deliberate once-over before pursing her lips and strolling off without a word.

"Drew's great," Ivy tells me. "Don't mind Paige though, she's just not fond of girls prettier than herself," she adds with a wink, then busies herself among the brewing equipment.

I smile at the unexpected compliment. I'd already learned earlier, when she flirted openly with me, that Ivy's attracted to both men and women equally. No reason to discriminate, she'd explained matter-of-factly. She also strongly recommended concealer for covering the hickey, despite insisting it looked "sexy as fvck" exactly as it was. Honestly, I have zero clue how any hickey could possibly qualify as sexy.

***

Walking into the auditorium, I immediately feel that same electrically charged, heavy atmosphere pressing down, and I'm seriously contemplating just turning around and leaving. Wrong classroom, maybe? No, definitely the right one. Unfortunately, the crush of students pushing through the doorway propels me forward regardless, deeper into the packed room.

Julian, that impossibly annoying golden god, sits center row as usual, surrounded by his devoted female fan club. What's unusual though is him being here at all. He never attends this particular class.

He's sprawled back lazily in his seat, long legs stretched casually beneath the table. Golden hair perfectly slicked back like always. His navy Oxford shirt, short-sleeved, stretches taut across an impressively built chest, biceps straining visibly against the fabric. The instant our eyes connect, electricity shoots straight down my spine. Butterflies erupt chaotically in my stomach while my pulse and heartbeat both kick into overdrive. His mouth curves slowly into that angelic smile of his, and I immediately yank my gaze elsewhere. That particular smile spells nothing but trouble for me specifically. I can feel him tracking my every movement across the room regardless.

He appears harmless and beautiful right now, sure, but even from this distance I sense waves of fierce, untamed energy radiating off him. Primitive, powerful, completely wild. I'm immune to my own Alpha's influence, yet somehow his presence proves impossible to ignore entirely. He's the predator here, plain and simple, and I'm undeniably his prey. I genuinely don't understand how everyone else remains oblivious to the sheer power he's practically broadcasting.

I climb higher, way higher than usual, bypassing my normal solitary seat near the exit completely. Too many empty seats surrounding that spot feels risky today. Instead, I deliberately choose an open seat beside some girl already deep in conversation with friends seated on her other side.

"Excuse me, is this taken?" I ask her directly.

"Nope," she replies without even glancing my way, immediately returning to her conversation. I catch just enough of their chatter to realize they're discussing him specifically. Ugh, seriously? Why can't people discuss achieving actual world peace instead? Why hadn't I been contemplating environmental solutions rather than obsessing over this particular guy? Seriously, why hadn't I?

Settling into my seat, bag balanced on my knees, I lift my head and immediately my gaze lands directly on him. He's turned completely around in his seat, watching me openly, making zero effort to hide it whatsoever. His lips curl into a wicked, knowing smile, eyes sparking with mischief the moment our gazes lock together. Oh boy...

I quickly look away, busying myself with class preparations instead. My heart's absolutely hammering away. I pull out my notepad and pens, arranging everything with unnecessary precision across the table.

"Meine Prinzessin." His warm breath ghosts against the back of my neck, and I swear every single hair on my body stands instantly at attention. I hadn't even noticed him relocating directly behind me. "I can still see my mark on you. Looks...sexy."

Dangerous creature or not, he's incredibly irritating. My hackles rise automatically whenever he opens his mouth. I'd deliberately arranged my hair over one shoulder specifically to hide his mark, fully aware it barely conceals anything, yet does he really need to point that out? That settles it, I'm buying concealer today, no excuses.

"What exactly are you doing here?" I hiss at him. Turning halfway, I realize he's leaning forward way too close, his mouth mere inches from mine now.

"Dinner with me tonight?" His warm breath brushes softly against my skin.

"School night. No," I tell him, deliberately leaning away, avoiding direct eye contact entirely.

"This weekend then, instead?"

"Busy this weekend." My scalp itches instantly.

"Busy doing exactly what?" His voice sharpens slightly now.

Doing what indeed? "Uh...our roof's leaking, actually. Need to fix it." Roof? Seriously, Freya? My entire head itches furiously now. Darn this man!

"Lying to me, Princess?" I catch amusement threading through his tone.

"Um, no?" I clear my throat nervously. "I mean, obviously not." I resist scratching my itchy scalp, glancing around instead to find several nearby students openly staring at us now. The girls beside me, previously ignoring my existence entirely, are clearly eavesdropping on our entire exchange.

"Perfect, I'll come help you then," he offers. "Never fixed a roof before, honestly. Sounds like it could be fun."

"NO!" I practically shriek. "No," I whisper instead, making the fatal mistake of glancing directly into those brilliant green eyes. "It's genuinely, incredibly boring," I whisper back urgently. So impossibly green. How does anyone's eyes achieve that vivid a shade naturally? He's staring intently into mine now. Then his gaze drops slowly toward my lips instead. That hungry gleam flickering there leaves my mouth completely dry. My own attention drifts helplessly toward his sensual pink mouth. They genuinely look incredible. Absolutely incredible. I find myself wondering exactly what they'd taste like.

I jump when our Professor's voice suddenly cuts through everything. Saved by the bell, or rather, saved specifically by Professor Sinclair.

I spin forward immediately, ducking my head to escape all those watching eyes, particularly the girls beside me still openly gawking.

Behind me, I catch his tortured, frustrated groan and bite down hard on my lip to stop myself from laughing outright. Honestly, I can't tell anymore whether relief or disappointment describes my current feelings better. We'd been leaning dangerously close together. Very close. Just a few more seconds and...

Oh boy. I'm absolutely, completely screwed.