Flirtation

Three weeks into the new term, life at school had finally settled into a steady rhythm. Every morning, I was up at five for the gym with Owen. Three days a week we trained legs, four days we did arms, back and chest, and cardio was something our wolves did for us. My body was starting to feel like mine again. Mostly. There were still moments it frustrated me. Private ones. Moments I told myself were stress, exhaustion, the last stubborn edges of Mum’s hex, or some ugly combination of all three. I did not examine it too closely. Classes were going well too. Mostly. Well, mainly. In photography, I still had to sit next to Grey, and we often argued over our interpretations of various works, which was only music to Mr Ecclestone’s ears. He found our heated discussions thrilling. Grey irritated me beyond belief at times, and I was fairly sure that eventually she was going to scream at me. I did my best to avoid her in combat. Thankfully, ever since another alpha had volunteered to step up to her after that first session, others had followed. She had volunteers now. Good. It meant I no longer had to stand opposite her and remember the way she had braced. Or the fact that, when she moved, I had let her. My eighteenth birthday was creeping closer, and with it came the same quiet reminder: I still had not been deemed worthy by the Goddess. Not as my father’s heir. Not as anything. It is the morning of the full moon when I spot my father in the atrium on our way to breakfast. That alone is enough to make me slow. "I’ll catch you in a bit," I tell Owen, veering off towards him. Dad sees me coming and smiles faintly. "You here to mess with my head again?" I ask. The last time he visited, he had come to find out whether either Sage or I had experienced the change that would mark one of us as his heir after Ophelia stepped down. Neither of us had. "Not this time," he replies, his presence drawing attention without him seeming to notice. "I’m here to see your grandfather. Some things are better handled in person." I nod. "How are you getting on with your new roommate?" I let out a short laugh. "You mean the beta you planted in my room?" "Guilty," he admits. "But answer the question." I shrug. "He’s good. Has me in the gym by ten past five every morning. He’s been in my ear too, which I assume was part of the plan." "I wanted you to have a solid second," Dad says. "Out of all the betas, Owen was by far the best choice." I nod slowly. "He reminds me of Mum and Ollie at the same time. Not exactly, but... close." Dad huffs a quiet laugh. "He certainly doesn’t behave the way your uncle did at school," he says, nostalgia flickering through his voice. "But he has discipline, and a firm commitment to training." "That he does." Dad’s expression shifts. His voice lowers. "You keeping out of trouble?" I know what he means. Not classes. Not patrol. Not Grey. Last year. "Yes," I answer, just as quietly, thinking of what I was struggling to achieve in private. He studies me for a moment. He can tell things aren’t entirely right, Calix notes. I ignore him. "There hasn’t been a change in the rogue situation," Dad says. "They’re still stronger, larger and turning up in higher numbers than ever. Especially around darker moon phases. I hope you’re keeping your wits about you on patrol." "I am," I reply honestly. Dad gives a small nod, weighing whether to say more. For a second, I think he might. Then he lets it go. "Remember what you represent here," he says instead. "Our pack. Our family. Yourself." That last one lands differently. Maybe because I am no longer sure what representing myself is supposed to look like. "I won’t let you down," I say. This time, I mean it as much for myself as for him Two minutes later, I am sitting at breakfast with Owen and two other betas from our pack. My conversation with Dad lingers, making Hudson and Liam’s behaviour feel even louder than usual. "She’s definitely getting it after the shift later," Hudson says, laughing. "Been winding me up all week, that one." "I’ve heard you need a safe word with her," Liam adds with a snort. "Oh, well sign me up, then," Hudson says, grinning. I glance across at Owen. He raises one brow, clearly unimpressed. Well, Calix remarks dryly. This is a moment of growth for you. Why me? Because you said almost exactly the same thing this time last year. I huff quietly and look back down at my plate. The worst part is, I probably did. Something careless. Something crude. Something designed to make the other boys laugh and the girl in question feel smaller if she ever heard it. I do not join in. It is a low bar. Still. Owen’s clearly had a good effect on me. Yes, Calix says. Owen. I ignore that. Economics drags, as usual. I sit through it, listening without really engaging, wondering how any of it is supposed to make me a better leader. It is all facts, figures, projections and risk models, none of which feels particularly useful when leadership is supposed to happen in the moment. Which is probably not true. Grey had built an entire patrol system out of data, and everyone had acted like she had reinvented the wheel. Irritating. After class, I run into Sage in the corridor. At this rate, I half expect to bump into my entire family before lunch. "Hey," I say. "How’s it going? Did you know Dad was here this morning?" She nods, waving briefly to her friends as they move past us. "Yeah, he texted me early this morning." I blink. "Wait. Dad texts you?" He doesn’t text you, Calix points out, amused. "Yeah," Sage says, like it’s nothing. "All the time." "Right." That is fine. Obviously. I pause, because sulking about Dad’s texting habits in the corridor would not be especially dignified. "Is everything all right with you? I haven’t seen much of you since the start of term." "Oh—yeah. Fine." She says it a little too quickly, tapping her foot against the floor. I glance down at the movement, then back up at her. "Anything else?" She hesitates. "Just patrol stuff," she admits. "The person taking over from me is always late, and I’m shadowing an omega who only blended this summer. She’s still nervous about shifting. I don’t want it to become a pattern." I nod, understanding the problem immediately. If anyone were watching the grounds, a predictable lapse like that would not go unnoticed. "Have you emailed... whatshername?" Sage gives me a flat look. "Lyra Grey?" "If that’s the one." Deeply mature, Calix says. "I did this morning," Sage says. "Explained everything." "I’m sure she’ll deal with it," I reply. "She’s been solid so far." That was a brave step for you, Calix remarks. Shut up. Sage nods. "She has. Anyway, I need to get to English. I’ll see you later at the shift." She disappears into the flow of students. I watch her go for a second, then exhale quietly. Dad texts Sage. Grey is good at data. Apparently, the morning is committed to personal growth through irritation. Economics should not be that draining. And yet, somehow, it is. By the time I leave the classroom, there is a dull heaviness behind my eyes and a restlessness under my skin that has nothing to do with fiscal policy. New moon, probably. Or lack of sleep. Or everything. I drag a hand through my hair and head towards the hall, deciding coffee might fix at least one of those problems. At the hot drinks counter, I place a cup under the machine and wait as it hums to life. I lean back against the counter, and that is when I see them. By the glass doors leading out onto the patio. Owen and Grey. I only really look because Owen laughs. Properly laughs. The kind that carries across the room. I pause with my hand near the coffee machine. Owen does laugh, obviously. He is not made of stone. But usually it is a short huff, a dry sound, something tucked behind common sense. This is different. Open. Easy. Grey has said something. Which means Grey might actually be funny. Irritating possibility. She stands opposite him, one hand resting loosely against the doorframe as she leans in slightly. There is something noticeably different about the way she is holding herself. Less rigid. Less guarded. Her hand lifts as she speaks, brushing lightly against his arm. It could be casual. Except it lingers a fraction too long, and she seems to realise it. A second later, she awkwardly tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, then does it again when it falls straight back into place, as if she needs something to do with her hands. Well, Calix comments. That’s forced. I almost smirk. Is that meant to be flirting? She's trying too hard. And then she smiles. Not the polite, controlled version she uses in meetings, or when she pushes back without overstepping. This one is easy. Natural. Unthinking. It softens her face and shifts something in her eyes. It suits her. Say it, Calix prompts. No. The machine clicks as my coffee finishes pouring, but I do not move straight away. Owen says something I do not catch, and Grey lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she reaches for his arm again. Another brief touch. Still a little too deliberate. Still not quite natural. But the smile stays. What is she doing? You are watching very closely, Calix notes. It’s like a car crash. I can’t look away. I grab my coffee a little harder than necessary, jam the lid on, and push away from the counter. Sage had raised a concern. A real one. Something with actual safety implications. I had expected it to be handled. Instead, Grey is here, laughing and putting on the worst display of flirting I have seen in a while. With Owen. My roommate. My pack’s beta. My potential second, if I ever got far enough to need one. I reach them before I can think better of it. "Glad to see you’ve got time for this," I say. They both turn towards me. Owen looks mildly surprised. Grey does not. Of course she does not. She probably clocked me the moment I came into the room. The smile disappears almost instantly. Her shoulders square as she straightens, all softness gone in the space of a breath. This is the version I know. "Is there a problem?" she asks, almost too sweetly. She does not want to bite in front of Owen. Which is unfortunate. Because I have apparently walked over here looking for teeth. Noted. I fold my arms. "My sister told me she came to you about issues with patrol," I say. "There are clear safety concerns." Grey’s expression does not shift. "I’m aware," she replies, flat and professional. Owen shifts slightly beside her, but says nothing. "I told her I’d review it." "And this is you reviewing it?" I ask, glancing between them. Her eyes narrow by a fraction. "No," she says, drawing out the syllable. "This is me taking a short break between classes. I’m allowed one." There it is. The edge. I know that edge. "She seemed pretty concerned," I push. "I’d have thought that would take priority." "It does," she says. "Which is why I’m addressing it this afternoon, exactly as I told her." I exhale through my nose. "You could’ve just said that." "You could’ve asked." Slow. Deliberate. Pointed. She holds my gaze. "My concern—" "I don’t care," she cuts in. Blunt. Clean. "She came to me," Grey adds. "Not you. I have it handled." "I’m making sure my pack members are covered." "And they are. Unless you think I’ve missed something?" For a moment, I consider pushing further. But I do not actually have anything else. "Anything else?" she asks. Her expression is made of stone. No warmth. No smile. No trace of the girl from thirty seconds ago. I hesitate. Just briefly. Because I understand, with sudden and uncomfortable clarity, that this is not simply who she is. This is who she is with me. I did that. "No," I say. She nods once, then turns and heads out through the doors onto the patio. Gone. A short silence follows. Then Owen exhales quietly beside me. "...That was weird." I glance at him. "Weird? That’s how we always talk to each other." He nods, still looking towards the doors. "Oh no, not that. The way she was before you came over." I huff a quiet breath. "Subtle, wasn’t it?" "Not even slightly." There is no arrogance in it. No smugness. Just observation, and maybe a little discomfort. He glances at me, then adds, more thoughtfully, "She’s great. Lovely, actually. A genuinely good person." I almost roll my eyes. Somehow, I do not. "But?" Owen shifts his weight, still looking towards the patio doors. "But I don’t think she knows how to flirt." I huff. "Clearly." "No, I mean..." He frowns slightly. "It felt like she was testing the idea of it more than actually trying to get anywhere." That lands strangely. "What does that mean?" "That didn’t feel like her," Owen continues. "It felt like she was trying to work out how flirting is supposed to go." Accurate, Calix says. I take a slow sip of my coffee. "Did it work?" I ask, keeping my tone neutral. Owen shakes his head. "No." He shifts slightly, like what he is about to say matters. "But I’m not really interested in that anyway." I glance at him properly. "No?" "No," he says simply. "I don’t want to mess around. Get close to people just because I can." He looks towards the patio doors for a moment, thoughtful rather than embarrassed. "I’ll wait." "For your mate?" "For her," he says. "Whoever she is." Something in that lands heavier than it should. That used to sound familiar, Calix says quietly. I ignore him. Owen shrugs, but there is nothing casual in it. "Mate bonds are back for a reason, aren’t they? We’re supposed to love properly. Otherwise you’re just..." He pauses, searching for the words. "Filling time." I let out a quiet breath. "Right." He studies me for a moment, like he is weighing whether to say more. Then decides against it. "Your coffee’s going cold," he says instead, nodding to my cup. I glance down. "...Yeah." We fall into step together as we head out of the hall. Calix is quiet for a moment. Then— You noticed her smile. I do not respond. Because I did. And because, annoyingly, I had noticed when it disappeared too.