Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 125

Chapter 125: Meeting Professor Lancaster

The lavish backdrop of Thornhaven Academy leaves me restless as Penelope leads me to my first professor’s office.

I’m way beyond the age of going to school and worrying about upsetting teachers. It’s almost infantilizing to be here, even though I know adults can go back to school at any time.

It doesn’t change the fact that the faces passing me in the halls are between the ages of 18 and 22.

I feel old. Like I should have gray hair spouting everywhere. Not old enough to need a walker or anything; just old enough that the "kids" avoid me because I’m too far entrenched in the "lame old lady" category.

"Stop acting like you’re being marched to the gallows." Penelope pulls me along, exasperated by how slow my feet are moving. "Life has changed. Let’s roll with it. I, for one, am excited to see what these kids learn in school."

Not me. I want to go back to having a job and bills. I’m boring like that. Too many people exist in this place.

Give me a cubicle and a list of things that need to be done by the end of the day. That’s all I’m asking for.

Not classrooms and lectures and exams. And a high school-reminiscent class schedule. It doesn’t even feel like a university, and I outgrew these things years ago.

"How many classes did they sign us up for again?" My fingers twist the strap of my messenger bag. A group of students passes by, their laughter echoing off the marble walls.

Way too much human energy around here. It’s like overdosing on people.

"Four. Plus a magic lab for the practical applications course." Penelope’s heels click against the polished floor. "Stop fidgeting."

"I’m not fidgeting."

Two girls whisper to each other as we walk past. My skin crawls under their scrutiny. The itch spreads between my shoulder blades, raw and persistent.

No one’s watching. They’re just students going about their day. But my anxiety spikes hard.

A professor in flowing robes strides past, his gaze lingering a second too long.

"They’re staring." I adjust my bag again.

"They’re not. You’re being paranoid."

"Says the woman who doesn’t have magical target practice painted on her back."

"Nicole." Penelope stops, forcing me to halt mid-step. "Look around. Actually look."

I do. Students mill about, absorbed in their phones or chatting with friends. A guy juggles his coffee and textbooks while trying to open a door. Two girls compare class schedules.

Nobody’s paying attention to us.

But the itch won’t stop.

"See?" Penelope’s voice softens. "We’re just two new students. That’s all."

"New adult students." I rub my neck. "In a sea of teenagers."

"Twenty-somethings," she corrects. "And there are plenty of older students here. Magic doesn’t discriminate by age."

My shoulders refuse to relax. Every footstep behind us makes me want to check over my shoulder. Every laugh sounds like it might be directed at us. It’s like I’m eighteen again, and it’s stupid, and I know it’s stupid, but I can’t stop it.

Jesus.

I need a drink.

"I hate this."

"I know." Penelope loops her arm through mine. "But we’re in this together. And hey, magic lab. That sounds like something right up your alley. Maybe you can magic up some sort of ward to keep people at a ten-foot distance."

"I’d rather learn to go invisible."

"That’s the spirit. Now come on, you need to meet all your teachers."

The itch follows us down the corridor, but I force myself to keep my eyes forward.

I straighten my spine and lift my chin. What the hell am I doing, acting like some scared teenager? I’m a grown-ass adult, damn it.

A guy in a leather jacket brushes past. His eyes flick to mine for a split second.

He’s got an arrogant walk. Does he work for the Conclave? Those assholes who tried to kill Logan could be anywhere. And dragons...

No. That’s stupid. All of these kids can’t possibly be connected to all these shadowy organizations and strange politics. People are just people, supernatural or not.

Logan’s the exception, not the norm. As am I.

Penelope, after all, is living proof. A witch without ties. Just a normal person trying to live in our world.

"Earth to Nicole." Penelope waves her hand in front of my face. "You’re doing that thousand-yard stare thing again."

"Sorry." I scan the hallway. "It’s just... everything looks different now."

"Different how?"

"Like reality got twisted sideways. See the girl with purple hair? She could be anything. A witch. A dragon. A demon for all I know."

"Or she could just be a student who likes purple hair. And she’s definitely a witch or something, because we’re literally at an academy for magic users. Probably not a dragon or demon. Calm down, Nicole."

Oh.

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