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Hewould be my partner then.

I straightened in my seat, tugging at my skirt again and trying not to stare. Oliver glanced around the room, swiftly doing the assessment that had taken me all this time. Finally, his eyes landed on me.

I held my breath, feeling a spike of pride as I realised I’d figured it out correctly, and smiled, making sure not to show my teeth, in case of lingering blood.

His gaze was so calculating that my heart began hammering in my chest. I swear his gaze flickered momentarily to the bite on my neck, and I had to fightthe urge to cover it with my hand. I had their star, but I still didn’t know what the other omegas would consider normal.

“H!”Jasmine Lynn’s voice sounded from the desk behind me. “Have you met Roxy, yet? She’s giving me a rundown on the new social platform OmegaGlobe is setting up. It soundsamazing—here, come on. You can fit.”

I swallowed, trying to be subtle in how I glanced back.

Shit.

Could I say something? But Jasmine was grabbing a seat from the desk to her left, and Oliver relaxed, striding toward her and settling down at the end of their table.

I fixed my gaze back to the front of the room, cheeks burning as I battled with my urge to fiddle with my pencil cases again.

This was fine.

I was odd and scentless. And the second pencil case was a bit much.

No one else had their registration card out, either.

I tried to figure out how I might put them away without drawing too much attention to myself, but it felt like I was being pinned with stares. I checked my hair again and realised half the bun had fallen out.

Oh crap.

I must look like a mess. I should never have tried to do anything special with it–I could have just left it down. Down would have been fine. Lots of the girls in here had their hair down.

The door opened again and a middle-aged omega, introducing herself as Professor Brant entered the room. She wore a neat cream blazer and pencil skirt, and her blond hair was tied so tightly in a bun, it must have been gelled.

I tried really hard tofocus on her introduction, but it was hard.

Class had barely started, and I’d already fucked up. I was the only omega bonded to a prestigious pack who didn’t have a partner, and if Roxy thought I was pathetic, it might get back to my mates.

But it was possible next time Oliver would sit with me, right?

He was only there because he wanted to talk to Roxy about whatever it was they were discussing. He also didn’t know me, and a lot of the omegas had already made friends. I had to find a way to introduce myself, like Jasmine clearly had.

Professor Brant began the lecture. I tried to focus, but my notes were disjointed. It was only lesson one, so there wasn’t much substance. Instead of worrying about that, I scrambled for a way to introduce myself to Oliver. I just had to say hello, or… or anything.

The opportunity came during break. Jasmine was sharing a piece of gossip in a hushed voice (I was trying and failing to listen in). Oliver burst out laughing, and I heard something hit the floor and skid beneath my chair.

Oliver muttered a curse as I glanced below me to see he’d knocked his phone from the desk. Not what I’d been hoping for, since it was hard to compliment someone on their phone. But before anyone could move, I dived to pick it up. I wouldn’t give up my chance to speak to him.

Except, as my knees hit the wooden floor with embarrassing speed, the rest of my hair exploded from its fragile bun.

My face burned red hot.

Oh no.

I dragged myself upright holding his phone, fighting through a forest of honey brown tangles as I fumbled for the desk. When I finally managed it, I was looking up at three dumbstruck omegas. Roxy, Jasmine, and Oliver were staring at me in shock.

All my plans of what I would say to Oliver died on my tongue as I pressed his phone onto the desk. “It’s uh…” I swallowed, grappling with a smile as I gripped handfuls of my hair, and tried to flatten them down. I couldn’t even look at Roxy. In fact, better I pretended she didn’t exist at all, so I didn’t flee the room. “Shit.” I forced a stupid laugh. “Always so hard to manage, you know?” My voice was weak.

You know?

Had I just said that to a guy with three inches of hair? One who looked like he rolled out of bed with it perfectly styled.

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