His Second Chance

10 | his persistence

I intended to sleep my thoughts away, but my body was still sluggish from my endurance class earlier. I perched myself on one of the countless wooden benches surrounding the dormitory's courtyard and kicked my legs slowly in the air.

Leaning into the soft winter chill, I smiled to myself and, for a moment, I envisioned I was somewhere else, anywhere else, really.

But then reality came crashing down in the form of an over-excited Spencer.

"Violet," Spencer gushed, my eyes opening at the sound of his voice. Spencer's cheeks were inflamed, and a couple beads of sweat trailed down his face. He breathlessly took a seat next to me. "Did you," he paused, breathless. "Did you hear?"

I gulped. Had Alpha Wade informed the rest of the pack about my presence, a presence he thought was a threat without my knowledge? My heart jostled in my chest, and all I could offer Spencer was a shake of the head.

Maybe instead of running me out of the Training Grounds himself, he'd have his pack do his dirty work. From the lurking presence of his staff, I knew he was more than capable of persuading Bluestrike members to do his bidding.

Spencer reclined on the bench, crossing his leg over his knees as he said, "It never gets old." He relaxed a hand behind his head, scratching his neck. "Olivia is not going to know what hit her when I get back from training."

"Spencer," I exhaled, blinking hard. "Maybe you should tell me what's so important before you start gloating."

"Right, right," he agreed, sitting upright. He inhaled dramatically. "You'll need to change. Maybe even shower."

I scowled. "Spencer."

"I don't mean you smell," he responded, eyes wide. "I just mean I can smell that you've had a full day of classes."

"Because I have had a full day of classes."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "And you smell—"

"Spencer," I warned. "You've already pointed out that my scent has changed, and you did just say I smell."

"I did?" He tilted his head. "I mean, I know I said you smell, but I didn't mean it like that."

"Spencer." I threw my head back, my brown hair dangling over the side of the wooden bench. "You are the worst at this."

"At what?"

I merely glared at him for the recognition to light up his face.

"Shit." He scratched his chin. "Okay, in my defense, I'm kind of new at this—"

"Spencer!"

"Okay, I'm really bad at this," he huffed. "There's a party."

"A party?"

"An end of Welcome Week party," he explained, his fingers tapping lightly over the smooth wood of the bench.

"No thanks."

"Violet," Spencer groaned, leaning closer until our shoulders were touching.

I asked, "Where is the party at?"

"It's...." His voice trailed while he sheepishly smiled. "It's at the canteen."

"Spencer," I laughed. "Who exactly is throwing this party?"

I nudged him with my shoulder as I waited for his response. As soon as he mentioned a party, I knew exactly which party he was referring to.

To his credit, it was a party, but it was also a sanctioned party. A party put together to help bond the members of Bluestrike as if sweating and bleeding on each other in class was not enough.