6

One week left on the calendar.

His heat wasn't due yet. Kai knew that. But knowing didn't explain why Emma's scent had stuck with him for two straight days  or why his body had responded to it like something familiar instead of something to reject.

He stared at her contact name on his multislate.

I opened it.

Empty thread.

He typed fast, kept it short, sent it before his brain could interfere. Casual. Normal Fine.

The screen went idle.

A couple drifted past him holding warm drinks, cinna-cider from the smell of it. Sweet and spiced. Kai turned his head away before his brain could do anything stupid with it.

One step at a time. A date first. Everything else later.

Thunder groaned above the campus rooftops. The sky had been swallowing itself since morning  grey eating blue, clouds stacking low and dark. Flood warnings. His parents had called twice. He'd let both ring out. Sitting in his room watching a wall was not an option. His wrist buzzed.

He grabbed it.

Package en route.

He set it down slowly.

The doubt came quietly, the way it always did. She's had two days. What's she doing with two days? The last alpha who'd tried dating him had gotten bored before dessert arrived. What if Emma had already thought it through and quietly decided he wasn't worth the follow-through? What if something Marco said at the party had

"Stop."

He looked up. Marco was standing in front of him with a paper bag tucked under one arm.

"I didn't say anything."

"Your face did." Marco reached into the bag. "Cookie?"

Kai shook his head.

Marco ate it whole. Didn't even blink. "Jade's almost here. She texted." He squinted at Kai's hair. "Is that still glitter?"

Kai dragged a hand through it. A small shower of gold landed on his shoulders.

Marco grinned. "The Spirit Walk claimed another victim."

"I'm never volunteering for anything again."

"You won't have to." Marco crumpled the bag. "Three weeks and we're out."

That landed differently than Kai expected.

Three weeks. Graduation. The end of Firethorn, the end of art modules and parade floats and volunteering that was technically optional but never actually optional.

His final project had been submitted for two weeks already. He was already half-gone in his head.

His mother had done something extraordinary back in the spring, signing a lease on a studio space downtown, West Main Street, a full year upfront. Small building, foot traffic from tourists year-round. His name above the door eventually, if things went the way he planned.

He'd make things people could actually use. Pottery. Mugs and bowls and plates that ended up in someone's kitchen cabinet, pulled out every morning without a second thought. Nothing precious. Nothing gallery-worthy. Just craft that lived inside ordinary life.

If revenue held, he'd take over the rent by autumn.

If it grew he'd own the place.

The thought still made him want to smile every time it arrived.

His multislate lit up.

Kai looked down.

Not the delivery service.

The name on screen made his chest tighten.

Emma.

He opened it.

Six words. That was all she'd sent.

We need to talk. Right now.

The smile he hadn't finished wearing died completely.

"Ask me," Marco said.

Kai didn't look up. "Ask you what."

"Whatever's been eating you alive for the past hour."

"Nothing's eating me."