Page 36 of Knot What She Seems
The first quarter of the game passes this way, with me anxiously sneaking glances at my phone and Sam cursing at the TV. But he buys it. Hook, line, and sinker—I’m pulling this guy shit off.
When the rest of the room erupts in a cheer because the Sharks get an interception, I let out a whoop. But mine isn’t for the game. It’s because I was fucking right, and I wish Teddie could see me right now, kicking ass.
Unfortunately, the interception is picked off or whatever they call it, and a universal groan fills the bar.
“Okay, I can’t handle this stress. The Sharks are tanking. Want to play darts?” Sam turns to me.
Giving him my most exhausted look, I reply, “I don’t think I ever want to move again. Must have gotten punched fifty times.”
“Your combat lesson was that bad? Ours focused on blocks.” He sits back in his seat, genuinely curious.
“It was less the lesson itself and more the fact that the professors I had didn’t bother to teach me anything about blocks for their own amusement.” Professor Luka’s smug face flashes through my mind. The sadistic bastard got a lot of pleasure out of watching me fail today.
He gives a low whistle. “And I thought being the first beta to ever attend was bad.”
A bitter laugh sends an ache through my sore ribs, making them pulse with pain. “Apparently, being a royal alpha is worse, particularly when your professors clearly got demoted from battlefield to babysitting. Those guys are fucking bitter about their jobs.”
With a sympathetic cringe face, he offers, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Tilting my head, I study him as an idea wriggles into my over-tired brain. “Actually…do you know about any beta self-defense classes? Or kickboxing?” I lift my hand and gesture at the room around us. “If those dicks aren’t going to teach me, I need to learn somewhere. Preferably in a place that’s more chill like this.”
Sam scratches at his hair as he thinks. “Yeah. Yeah, I might know a place. You have to promise not to kick their asses to high heaven though. They don’t fight like alphas.”
Delight rolls through me as I smile because I think it would be amazing to learn to fight with people who don’t depend on their brute strength. That actually sounds perfect. Maybe it will even give me an upper hand on alphas who just act on instinct.
I lift my glass and say, “You have my word.”
13
BRYLEE
Nights are always harderfor me.
Maybe it’s the way the darkness seems to press in on me from all sides like a rapidly shrinking room. Maybe it’s the way that the shadows look particularly ominous, whether the object in question is a chair, a coat, or even a textbook. Maybe it’s the way that the silence is deafening and the only sound you hear is your own thoughts.
The voices in my head are louder at night.
This morning, the sun is still a whisper on the horizon, more of a suggestion than anything concrete, but the moon has already begun its gradual descent. The sky overhead is dark, but soon, it’ll be a light shade of gray painted with streaks of orange and red. I can’t remember the last time I got up this early when I didn’t have to, but I found that I couldn’t stay in bed a second longer. My thoughts were too loud, too demanding, too…terrifying.
Now, I stand in the garden directly behind Darling Academy, stretching my taut muscles. My long golden hair has been pulled up in a high ponytail, though a few stubborn strands insist on sticking to my cheeks. I wear a sports bra with a sweatshirt zipped over it and a pair of leggings. Teddie purchased this outfit for me over a year ago, when I offhandedly mentioned I wanted to start trying to work out more. Of course, the clothing has seen more dust than sweat, but I’m determined to change that.
If I have any hope of surviving Eros Academy, I need to be stronger than I have ever been before. Better. I never realized my physical limitations until I was forced to endure a self-defense class with Alpha Team X. Only a week ago, I considered myself to be in relatively good shape, at least for an omega, but “good” isn’t going to cut it. I need to be the best.
Taking a deep breath, I focus on the pathway winding through the forest. First-years usually have their “nature” lessons here. It’s a tedious, and quite frankly idiotic, class that teaches omegas the best flowers to pick when making arrangements. Roses for this occasion, violets for this reason, peonies for this. It’s as horrible as it sounds.
You would think they would teach us something cool like how to tell if a plant is poisonous or not. But oh no. Here at Darling Academy, we’re taught how many flowers are needed for a bouquet and which colors look best at brunch versus dinner.
Still, the path has proved itself to be useful.
My sneakers pound against the compressed dirt as I move through the forest. Every step causes my ankle to twinge, but I force myself to run through the pain, to shove it to a section of my mind secured by lock and key.
If I remember correctly, this particular pathway is only a mile long. It’s perfect for a beginner like me.
My lungs burn, and my breathing escapes me in embarrassingly shallow spurts. I’m grateful no one is around to witness this.
Teddie and Caran always talk about the “runner’s high” they get, but I think they’re full of shit. I can’t imagine experiencing anything even close to bliss at the moment. I’ll be lucky if I don’t cough up all of my internal organs.
At first, I only focus on where I’m going, on keeping one foot in front of the other. But as the sun begins to play peek-a-boo with the horizon, my thoughts wander, traveling down a path more dangerous than the one I’m currently on.
