Page 13 of Galaxy Between Us

“Ah! Dammit, Knox!”

I stop punching abruptly as my dad stumbles back, scrunching his nose where I accidentally hit him. Petrified, I step back, breathing heavily as I blink back to the present and wipe my brow.

“Sorry, Dad… I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he complains, toughing it out. “You got me good; I’ll give you that.” Removing the pads, he reaches over to ruffle my hair firmly as we laugh it off. We move on swiftly, but I’m still reeling on the inside.

Note to self: handle my temper without anyone else around. I hadn’t even gotten fully worked up yet, meaning I can get even more violent than that.

Chapter VII

Seven years later

I blow out a breath, shoulders slumped as I close my dorm room door for the last time. I know that I’m only two inches taller than I was my first year because I marked the wooden frame. But I stand tall anyway with my head up, ready to step into the world as an adult Omega with a certificate in advanced cleaning.

I’ve been told that I now smell like rose water and a wooden honey dipper. My Alpha taxi driver takes manual whiffs of it as I load my suitcases in the trunk, but I don’t mind. I’m just glad that I don’t have a burnt coffee scent like some of the others. When Becky got her first heat, our dorm smelt like strong vanilla creamer, which in theory should smell great, but not so much in copious amounts.

I wish I had stayed in touch with her, but she wound up pregnant and ditched school within the year. As the taxi takes me away from the tall brick buildings secured by that impenetrable wall, I reflect on memories while we cut through cornfields and small towns. I’m lost in my mind, only halfway down memory lane when the structure of home welcomes me with familiar houses and restaurants.

My shoulders relax and my heart swells with nostalgia.

It feels good to be back in my city. I smile at my mature reflection through the cab window as the familiar world passes by, trying to picture myself ingrained here once again. These streets. These houses. These playgrounds. All of it holds an atmosphere of comfort and homeliness that I missed deeply.

The boarding school I graduated from was located far away, preventing me from visiting my mom and dad as often as I wanted, but we talked on the phone every weekend. I stayed on campus through most breaks, only returning here briefly on holidays in favor of focusing on social groups and networking.

It wasn’t all as bad as I’d thought it would be. I made Omega friends just like Mom and Dad said I would. I developed etiquette, experienced my first heat, and learned how to be more like an Omega after traipsing around Alphas all the time. I’m all grown up now.

I may have even made an enemy or two, but that’s life.

Because of my eagerness to graduate early, rumor had it that I was a “know-it-all.” Contrary to popular belief, I don’t think I’m better than other Omegas. I just don’t understand why I can’t put “strong” and “Omega” in the same sentence without being accused of wishing I was an Alpha.

I joined the activist group on campus and enjoyed helping Omegas unveil their strengths and see their potential. Until one of the Omegas admitted their feelings for me. I wasn’t sure how to handle that. My intention in joining the club was to help Omegas love themselves, not each other. I’m not against Omega-lovers, but it’s not for me, personally. I was flattered at the amount of offers over the years, though.

After finishing at the top of my class within the first year, I became quite popular. It might’ve gone to my head a bit. I’d let a few Omegas hook up with me at weekend parties but was careful not to lead anyone into thinking it would be more. Of course, drama unfolded anyway, and for a while our activist group fell apart.

It took some time to bounce back, but my third year was a breeze. I’d grown accustomed to campus, helped out the first-year Omegas, and even made truces with some professors and students I hadn’t initially gotten along with.

For a few years, I’d gotten so comfortable that school felt like it was my life now. It was like I forgot that there was an end-goal to achieve. I didn’t need to strive for a full eight-year term of Omega studies followed by post-Omega studies, and it was tempting to give up at times, but I knew I would never forgive myself for not seeking the highest opportunities for education. Even if that education focuses heavily on anatomy and societal roles.

Year six in post-Omega studies was big for me. I received confirmation that I had been approved for a full-time position at my dream job after graduation. Thoroughly reminding me that my time on campus was ending. No more late-night study halls. No more spray painting the dean’s office at the end of the year. No more eating at the same sandwich shop over and over. My future was about to begin.

By my seventh, and final year, I was tired.

The popularity, the drama, the workload, the expectations. Omegas are a lot. Most of them who I met during my first year had since cut their studies short and found their mates. No one is really intended to stick out so many years of studies. Most Omegas enjoy the simplicities of having all their needs met by an Alpha. School is only for those of us who are continuing education for a specific career.

And I’m finally done. I finished a year early and now I can rest for a minute before heading into the world as an educated Omega. I miss my parents and my bedroom more than anything. I hop out of the cab, grab my suitcases, and run up the steps, barreling into the house with such speed that I nearly faceplant into Mom’s flowers blossoming in large pots. Boy, have they grown since I’d seen them last.

“Arius!” Mom pulls me in tightly for a hug at the door. Dad limps over from the living room to join our embrace.

“Hey, there's the new graduate!”

“Dad! I missed you guys so much! What’s been going on? Is something wrong with your leg?”

I pull back from our hug to better assess my father.

“We didn’t want to worry you during finals,” Mom says.

My heart drops.