College Plans

"On a more serious note," Mel said, lifting his empty glass, "one of us has to go get the next round, don't we?"

A collective groan went around the table.

We all laughed at Mel's expression.

His family was ridiculously wealthy. Not spoiled exactly, but definitely accustomed to convenience. If there was a way to avoid an inconvenience, Mel usually found it.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'll grab the next round."

As I headed downstairs, I could already hear everyone teasing him behind me.

Our friend group was surprisingly diverse. Several of us came from wealthy families, but Mel was the only one who actually acted like it. Lyall came from even more money as the Alpha's heir, but years of training had taught him that leadership meant serving the pack, not being served by it.

The music grew louder as I approached the bar.

"Another round?" the bartender asked with a wink.

I nodded.

Within minutes, six freshly made drinks sat neatly arranged on a tray.

"Need help carrying those?" he asked nervously.

The concern in his voice almost made me laugh.

Human.

Definitely human.

"Thanks, but I've got it."

Balancing the tray effortlessly on one hand, I made my way back upstairs.

The bartender's astonished stare followed me the entire way.

"Everything look okay?" Lyall asked as I set the tray down.

I nodded.

The conversation quickly shifted toward college plans.

Apparently, I was the only one genuinely excited about classes.

"What are you planning to study, Rowan?" River asked.

"Business, probably. Then maybe a literature minor."

Mel made a face.

"Wow. That sounds incredibly boring."

I immediately launched a straw at his forehead.

The others dissolved into laughter.

While everyone argued over majors and careers, I found myself studying each of my friends.

Mel would eventually inherit his family's company.

River had always dreamed of finding her mate and raising a family.

And Troy...

Troy had fought harder than any of us just to get this far.

His father had died when he was young, leaving his mother to work two jobs for most of his life. She refused handouts and charity, even when things got difficult. Pride ran deep in wolves.

"Troy, what about you?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"Depends how much I can afford. I'll probably have to work while I study."

"Troy," Lyall said, leaning forward, "there are dozens of pack scholarships you qualify for."

"I know."

"So apply."

Troy looked sheepish.

"I haven't had time. Most of the deadlines passed before I could even look."

"Come over tomorrow," Lyall said immediately. "We'll go through them together."

The grateful smile Troy gave him made me hide my own smile behind my drink.

Moments like that reminded me exactly why Lyall would make an incredible Alpha someday.

He genuinely cared.

"Looks like we're empty again," Troy announced after a while, gathering our glasses. "I've got this one."

Nobody argued.

We all knew how uncomfortable he became whenever someone tried helping him.

As he disappeared downstairs, the conversation drifted elsewhere.

"So," Mel said, "do you really think he'll pull it off? Turn everything around for his family?"

"Of course he will," River replied instantly. "If anyone can, it's Troy."

I glanced over the railing toward the bar.

A grin spread across my face.

"Well, his luck may already be improving."

The others followed my gaze.

A stunning woman stood beside Troy.

Even from up here, I could see him blushing.

Poor Troy looked completely overwhelmed.

"What?" Mel whispered.

"No way."

"Is she flirting with him?"

The entire group crowded against the railing.

Troy laughed nervously at something she said.

His ears were turning red.

"Oh, he is absolutely doomed," Lyall said.

We barely managed to duck away before Troy looked up.

The second he glanced toward the patio, everyone dropped below the railing like guilty children.

A burst of laughter followed.

None of us wanted him to know we'd witnessed the entire interaction.

A few minutes later, Troy returned carrying a tray loaded with drinks.

His face was still slightly red.

Nobody mentioned the woman.

Nobody mentioned how long he'd spent talking to her.

Nobody asked whether he'd watched the bartender make the drinks.

We simply grabbed our glasses and returned to our conversation.

After all, we'd been careful all night.

What could possibly go wrong?