Ash cleared his throat and flopped down on the couch. Nah. No need to share that shit. That was just for him.
For the next few hours, Ash and Ryder occupied themselves people-watching and listening to Everett gossip about everyone in his and Ash’s program. They had a decent time, even. Maybe going out hadn’t originally been in Ash and Ryder’s plans tonight, but neither of them minded a party. They might not have been in the thick of things like Spencer—who’d left the dance floor some time ago and gone out back, presumably to play some testosterone-fueled drinking games—but the ambience wasn’t total shit either.
Maybe Ash would feel differently when he was able to smell pheromones in full force, but right now it was just … interesting, catching those little hints of scent. The beginnings of a language he’d eventually speak as fluently as everyone else.
Ash had his head in Ryder’s lap, his legs kicked over the side of the couch, when Everett’s voice interrupted his pondering. “Enrichment time aside, you guys are trying to, like, claim Spencer, right?”
Ash nodded. “Weareclaiming him,” he said fiercely, not sure if it was the two beers or Everett’s natural chattiness that had him so loose-lipped. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”
Everett tilted his chin toward the edge of the dance floor. “Better go get your man, then.”
Ash sat up to look. “Why?”
Maybe Spencer was back to humping on the dance floor again, but it wasn’t like Ash was going to go tearing him off of it, not when there wasn’t any heat to what he was doing. Ash might get little twinges of omega jealousy, but logically he knew the difference.
But Spencer wasn’t in the thick of things on the dance floor. He was over in the corner, talking to that alpha or beta girl whoAsh and Ryder had seen tearing into him on the steps at the start of classes. She didn’t look any friendlier this time around either.
“That’s Trish,” Everett said, eyes wide as he ogled the scene. “They hooked up last year. She’s been giving him a hard time lately.”
“Why the hell doesn’t he tell her to fuck off?” The words came out harsher than Ash had intended, but he didn’t like the look on Spencer’s face. There was no fight in it. He was just … taking whatever this chick dished out, however rancid it might be.
“He never does,” Everett said easily, like it was some sort of common knowledge. “I think it’s part of why people act so bitchy with him. He always puts up with it.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Haven’t you been paying attention?” Everett asked with a smug smile. “I know everything.”
Ash shared a look with Ryder, who’d already set down his soda. They gave each other a nod. “Let’s go.”
Together, they pushed through the crowd to get to Spencer and this Trish person. There were a few partygoers clearly eavesdropping, not stepping in so much as surreptitiously filming the scene. These were the same people who’d been happy to grind away with Spencer at the beginning of the night, now standing by while he was reamed mercilessly in public.
Even with the music blaring, Ash could hear Trish’s harsh tone as they approached, and it made his hackles go up.
“—why you have to act like I’mradioactive. You’re such a jerk. It was good.Wewere good. And then—” She broke off with a glare.
She was pretty; Ash would give her that. Long legs and flawless makeup and hair that could have been in a shampoo commercial. He didn’t catch any hint of scent, so he assumed she was maybe a beta after all.
Luckily for Ash’s temper, he didn’t really give a shit about any of that.
Spencer had his hands in his pockets and his eyes on his feet, a frozen smile on his face. “Yeah. Sorry, Trish. I—I kinda told you already. Just not interested.”
“You’resucha fuckingslut, Spencer Philips. I?—”
“Hey!” Ash cut in, not willing to listen to another second of the bullshit.
Spencer looked up at the interruption, and the shame in his gaze was un-fucking-acceptable. Ash stepped in front of him and stuck his finger in Trish’s precious personal space. “Is there a problem here?”
Trish blinked at him in the slow, stupid way that meant she’d had one too many drinks tonight. “It’s none of your business.”
“Actually, it is.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m a problem,” Ash said flatly. “Yourproblem.”
Trish stared at him for a moment, then seemed to decide any audience was better than no audience at all. “He should own up to?—”
“You know what I think?” Ash interrupted, all nice and rhetorical-like. “I think because you have a pretty face and nice hair you think it makes up for your shitty personality. But it fucking doesn’t. You’re an asshole.”
