Chapter 3
957 Words
KENDRA
By the time the sun starts dipping behind the mountains, my nerves are a full‑blown riot. I’ve changed outfits three times. Maybe four. My room looks like a clothing tornado hit it, and I’m still not convinced I picked the right thing.
“It’s a lake party, not a royal ball,” Vera says from my bed, legs crossed, chewing on a piece of gum like she’s judging my entire existence.
I smooth my top for the tenth time. “I know. I just… I don’t want to look stupid.”
“You won’t,” Ophelia says gently from her desk, where she’s surrounded by textbooks and highlighters. “You look pretty.”
Pretty. The word hits me harder than it should.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I ask her.
Ophelia shakes her head. “I have an assignment due tomorrow. And you know how I get when I’m stressed.”
She’s right. Ophelia stressed is like a quiet hurricane — silent, focused, unstoppable.
Vera stands up. “Well, I’m coming.”
I blink. “But you’re not invited.”
She shrugs. “And? You think I’m letting you walk into a party alone with Flint Storm? Absolutely not.”
A wave of relief washes over me. I didn’t realize how badly I needed someone with me until she said it.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Don’t get emotional,” she says, grabbing her jacket. “I’m doing this because I’m nosy.”
She’s lying. She’s doing it because she loves me.
Ophelia walks us to the door. “Text me when you get there. And when you leave. And if anything feels weird.”
“It won’t,” I say, trying to sound confident.
But my stomach is twisting itself into knots.
The walk from our dorm to the lake takes about twenty minutes. The air is cool, the sky streaked with pink and gold, and the scent of pine trees fills the path. Students pass us in groups, laughing, carrying drinks, music already echoing faintly from the water.
Vera nudges me. “So. First date, huh?”
I groan. “Don’t call it that.”
“It is, though.”
“No one’s ever asked me out before,” I admit quietly. “Not even for prom.”
Vera stops walking. “Kendra. You know that wasn’t your fault.”
“I know,” I say, though I’m not sure I believe it.
Back in high school, everyone had dates. Everyone except me. Vera and Ophelia refused to leave me alone, so they went together as a trio. It was fun, but it also hurt — knowing no one wanted me.
Tonight feels like a second chance.
Or a trap.
I don’t know which.
We keep walking, talking about random things — classes, professors, the cafeteria food that tastes like sadness. It helps distract me until the conversation shifts unexpectedly.
“So,” Vera says casually, “you mentioned Ryder earlier.”
I blink. “I did?”
“Yeah. You said something about him in the cafeteria.”
I try to remember. It must’ve slipped out. “I don’t really know him.”
“No one does,” Vera says. “He’s… quiet.”
That’s an understatement. Ryder Lowe moves like he’s trying to disappear. Head down. Shoulders tense. Always carrying something for someone else.
“What pack is he from?” I ask.
“Black Claw,” she says immediately. “Alberta.”
I stop walking. “Really?”
“Yeah. Why?”
I don’t know. It just surprises me. Black Claw wolves are known for being tough, loud, confident. Ryder is none of those things.
“He’s an omega,” Vera adds, lowering her voice. “That’s why.”
My chest tightens. “Oh.”
“Omegas in Black Claw don’t get treated well,” she continues. “They’re basically… workers. They do everything. Patrols, repairs, errands. Whatever the higher ranks don’t want to do.”
“That sounds awful.”
“It is. That’s why he’s part‑time. Engineering is supposed to be four years, but for him? It’ll take almost double. His pack keeps dragging him back for duties.”
I picture Ryder scrambling behind the Beta earlier, trying to keep up. The way he looked up for just a second — like he wasn’t supposed to.
Like he was afraid to.
“Poor guy,” I whisper.
Vera shrugs. “He’s used to it.”
That makes it worse.
We start walking again, the lake coming into view through the trees. Music thumps softly in the distance, lights flickering between branches. The air smells like smoke and pine and something sweet — maybe cider.
My heart starts pounding again.
Vera notices. “Hey. You okay?”
“No,” I admit. “I’m terrified.”
She laughs. “Good. That means you care.”
“I don’t want to mess this up.”
“Kendra,” she says, stopping me again. “If Flint Storm doesn’t treat you right, I will personally throw him into the lake.”
I laugh, even though my hands are shaking.
We step out of the trees, and the lake opens up before us — dark water reflecting the moon, a bonfire crackling on the shore, students scattered around in groups, music playing from a speaker.
Flint is there.
He sees me instantly.
And he smiles.
My breath catches.
Vera leans in. “Okay. I’ll stay nearby. But go. He’s waiting.”
I nod, swallowing hard.
This is it.
My first date.
My first chance.
My first step into something that might change everything.
I take a deep breath and walk toward him.
- Writer
