Chapter 5 The Wrong Person

Third Person & Audrey Third Person POV Edwin’s Beta, Charles, strode down the hall toward the sound of the voices. Up ahead, nestled into the old-fashioned wallpaper and dark wood moldings, was a cracked open door. Charles stepped into the dimly lit room to find a scene that he had not expected: three students clustered together amongst the rows of fabric and other supplies. There, he saw her: the girl that Edwin had asked him to find information on. The other two students were holding her down and attempting to cut her hair. “What are you three doing?” Charles barked, causing all three students to jump. The girl holding the scissors, a brunette with a pointed face and a guilty look in her eyes, quickly dropped the scissors behind a nearby shelf—but Charles had already seen them. “Who are you?” the male student, a tall and muscular young man with blond hair and green eyes, retorted. Charles shrugged. “I’m the person who’s going to get you both expelled if you don’t leave this girl alone,” he said, leaning over a little to get a closer look at the third student, who was currently clutching her black hair and practically trembling. “Are you Audrey Thatcher?” The black-haired girl nodded. Charles took a step closer, and now that he was out of the doorway, the other two students scurried past him. He didn’t bother to give them a second look, although he had already memorized their faces. “Are you alright?” Charles asked softly. He reached out to touch the girl’s shoulder, but she recoiled on instinct, clearly traumatized by what had just happened. “Y-Yes,” she said, a blatant lie—Charles could see the tears blurring her eyes. Here, in the dim light of the storage room, her eyes almost appeared purple in color. “It’s alright if you’re not,” Charles assured her, glancing down at the dark black splotch of ink on her sweater. “I’ll take you to—” “Really, I’m fine.” The girl straightened, her eyes momentarily meeting his. He saw her gaze widen before she quickly looked away and scurried past him, picking up a bolt of plaid fabric laying on the floor. “Thank you, but I have to go. I’ll see you in class later, Professor Brooks.” Charles whirled around to correct her—to tell her that he was not Edwin, but that Edwin had been the one who sent him to speak with her—but it was too late. The girl was already practically running down the hall, her black hair billowing out behind her. For a few moments, Charles watched her go and wondered if he should contact Edwin to let him know that the girl he was seeking was his own student; but a quick glance at his watch revealed that Edwin would be beginning his first class soon. Perhaps he would be better off not provoking the Alpha’s ire so quickly, and simply let Edwin discover this little tidbit on his own. … Audrey’s POV My legs moved faster probably than they ever had, and for the first time ever, I found myself silently cursing my heeled boots as I bolted back to my dorm. Once there, I quickly changed out of my ruined sweater and into a fresh one, sprinting out and making it to class with only five minutes to spare. I could have killed Linda for what she did to my beloved sweater, really. I had spent months making it. But Professor Brooks himself had shown up at just the right time and had saved the day. I would have to thank him myself for what he had done once class was over, I thought to myself as I settled into a chair at the back of the room. Professor Brooks hadn’t arrived yet, so I busied myself with some studying while I waited. I doubted that there would be much for the teaching assistant to do today aside from handing out the syllabus and maybe taking attendance. Within a few minutes, the bell rang, pulling me out of my reverie. I squinted as I aimed my gaze down the wide lecture hall steps toward the podium. A tall, broad-shouldered figure wearing a tweed jacket and dark trousers, the top two buttons of his shirt casually undone and… Long, black hair pulled into a knot at the nape of his neck. I felt my stomach twist. No, no, no, I thought to myself, glancing over at the exit. For a moment, I considered getting up and making a run for it. But it was too late. Without preamble, Edwin dropped his bag on the floor next to the podium and leaned toward the microphone. “Hello. I am Professor Brooks. Welcome to Fashion Design 101.” Dammit. How…? Was the man who I saw in the storeroom earlier not Professor Brooks? Once again, my eyes darted over to the door—but it was already shut, and the class had gone quiet as Edwin began to call names in alphabetical order. “Francine Adams…” “Here.” “Robert Ainsley.” “Here, sir.” I knew that Edwin wouldn’t be calling my name since I was a teaching assistant, not a student. That was a relief, at least; but in the meantime, with my heart pounding like a war drum behind my ribcage, I carefully raised my open textbook in front of my face and pretended to read. Meanwhile, I tried to come up with escape plans. Perhaps I could feign illness and go out the back door so he couldn’t get a good look at my face. Or maybe I could hide beneath my desk until class was over. Or maybe I could just sink straight through the floor with shame. “Who are you? At the back, there.” There it was. So he noticed me after all; one body in this room unaccounted for. I sank a little lower down into my chair and lifted my book a little higher to cover my face, having decided that it was better to just stay anonymous until class was over. And then I could drop my teaching assistantship, take the blacklist, move schools, move towns, leave the planet. “Ahem. Excuse me?” Edwin repeated. The class began to bristle a bit during the pause, and Edwin raised his hand to silence them. For the briefest of moments, our gazes met over the top of my book. I felt like I might be sick when he began striding toward me. “Hmm,” Edwin said, his shoes clicking on the floor as he meandered up the shallow steps leading to my seat. “I wonder who this extra person is in my classroom, trying to hide their face with a book.” Even though I knew it was a futile effort, I shoved my face harder toward my book, pretending not to have heard him. That was, until one long finger touched the top of my book and lowered it. I heard the softest hitch of breath from him. Slowly, I raised my gaze to meet his. Our eyes locked, and it was safe to assume that we were both equally stunned. “Who are you?” he all but whispered. All of the eyes in the room were on me at this point. Clearing my throat, I tried to muster a voice with more confidence than I truly felt—and failed. “Audrey Thatcher,” I murmured, clutching the pages of my book. “I’m your teaching assistant.” “Louder, young lady.” I felt my low belly twist at his words—that undeniably sexy authoritarian tone. Here, in the middle of a lecture hall with the eyes of a hundred students on me, was the one man who had taken my virginity just last night. And, Goddess, how sweet it had been. “I’m Audrey Thatcher,” I finally repeated, standing. “Your teaching assistant.” Edwin merely snorted. “No need to hide, Audrey. I believe we met last night.”