Monday was slow, but at least I shared my shift with Cascade. She’d been gone the entire weekend attending a women’s convention over in Fort Walton. She had invited me to join her, but I, unfortunately, owed a favor to the wrong person. University clubs were required to go through an arduous process to become official, and part of that process included picking officers before the club even held its first meeting. I had something of a love-hate relationship with Jessica, another astrophysics major who frequently took the same classes I did.

Jessica and I hated each other. Our personalities didn’t mesh well together. We disagreed on practically everything under the sun, except one thing: we both loved astrophysics. Because we were both in so many of the same classes, we’d developed a working relationship. If I missed one of our shared classes, she had notes waiting for me at the next one, and I did the same for her. Tit-for-tat. Unfortunately, this didn’t leave much room to refuse requests such as Nick, you’re going to be the vice-president of my new opera club and attend one meeting on Saturday.

I’d never wanted so badly to join Cascade in handing out makeup samples and networking, and she—the great friend that she was—had answered all my distressed texts with laughing emojis. I’d been determined to give her the silent treatment when she arrived at the writing center this morning, literally straight from Fort Walton. She’d smirked. “Silent treatment, huh?” she’d asked. “I’ll be patient. You’ll crack.”

And I did.

Right now, Cascade had her laptop open to an impressive Excel spreadsheet she was meant to be studying for a computer test she kept putting off, although she seemed more concerned with browsing Instagram on her phone and eating the cheap takeout she’d traveled across town to get. There were closer places to get food, but Cascade’s insatiable love for honey walnut shrimp wouldn’t be deterred even by the wild traffic on Airport Boulevard.

Not that I was complaining. She’d brought me takeout, too. Actually, I admired her fortitude. I certainly wouldn’t have come straight to work after a long weekend at a convention and an early-morning, two-hour commute.

As I ate my fried rice, I refreshed our schedule. There was a new appointment, the only one today. Alex Nox would be coming in again, and not to see me. A small part of me obsessed over that revelation. Had I done a bad job? Had I engaged in too much small talk and not enough feedback? Did Alex think I’d done a bad job? As far as I knew, he hadn’t left me a scathing review, although I had my doubts that our boss, Elaine, would tell me even if he had. Elaine was very supportive of her writing center staff. She’d never share any needlessly cruel feedback.

Cascade peered at my computer screen. “Huh. He’s back.”

“Yeah, but not with me.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing you’ve done,” Cascade replied. “If he wants to do an appointment with someone else, it’s his loss, not yours.”

“I guess.”

But still.

“I am surprised, however, that he’s chosen to make his appointment with me,” Cascade said.

“Maybe he likes you.”

“He is cute,” Cascade replied, “Although I don’t know how I would feel about being unable to wear silver anymore.”

While I wasn’t the most knowledgeable person regarding magical beings, it was widely known that werewolves were horrifically allergic to silver. Like, chemical burn allergic. I’d been to a lecture about it once—back when I’d just met Cascade and was considering the idea of pursuing magical studies. Eventually, astrophysics won out because it involved more math, and math was where I shone.

“So you’d have to go with white gold then,” I said. “Same look, no detrimental effects, and it doesn’t tarnish.”

“True, but it looks the same, which might be a problem. Unless werewolves can smell the difference. I’ve never asked any of them, but I’d still rather not come home and have my boyfriend be a wolf. I’m allergic to fur.”

“But their changes are voluntary, aren’t they?”

At least, that was what my Introduction to Magical Studies textbook had indicated, although it barely managed to scratch the surface as far as the whole subject went.

“They can willingly change during the full moon, but that’s it. Their society is…interesting. They still have pack dynamics, which I don’t suppose you’ve heard of. Alphas and betas, that sort of thing. One alpha leads a pack, and everyone else falls into line.”

The mention of alpha conjured an image of a shirtless man with washboard abs, an intimidating gaze, and a strong, dominant presence. It was the sort of man that would grace the cover of one of Cascade’s romance novels.

“How is the alpha chosen?” I asked.

“Didn’t you take a class on this?”

“You know I skimmed.”

“You’re a bad student,” Cascade replied, smirking.

“I am not. I just…didn’t understand a lot of it. Maybe if I’d taken sociology or social problems first, I would’ve.”

The university’s Magical Studies program was notoriously small and it only offered one or two classes per semester. I’d taken Magical Studies and Social Legislation during the second semester of my freshman year and hadn’t realized it was a senior-level class. When I naively called the registrar asking for an override, they’d given it, putting me—the naïve, unready university freshman—into a class that required at least a basic knowledge of sociology and magical history to understand it. By some miracle, I managed to escape with a B.

“It used to be trial by combat,” Cascade answered. “But in recent years, it’s become a more democratic process of sorts. A class of elders chooses the new alpha once the old one is ready to retire.”

“So if you aren’t the alpha, you answer to him or her? What if you don’t like the alpha?”

Cascade’s lips quirked into a smile. “Most packmates follow their alpha regardless. Although weaknesses aren’t unheard of, they aren’t terribly common.”

I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of being forced into some predetermined slot based on who my leader was, especially since being alpha seemed to be a life-long position.

“Sirens don’t do that,” I said.

“No, we’re more solitary. We can’t have too much beauty in one place,” she purred. “We’ve been known to drown men with our voices.”

“Oh, no,” I said.

Of course, I knew sirens didn’t do that anymore. They did, however, have a measure of control over some men’s emotions and actions, but I’d never known any siren to use that skill. It was still a legally gray area, though. Cascade was said to be very powerful. Most of the supernatural beings I knew respected and adored her, but I’d never known Cascade to use her powers.

I’d asked, and after a long silence, she’d admitted to using them only once. She hadn’t shared many details, but I’d gathered that the man she’d used her powers on hadn’t been a very good person. I hadn’t asked what he’d tried to do to her, but whatever it was must’ve been terrible. Cascade took her powers of persuasion very seriously; she didn’t use them to avoid so much as a parking ticket.

“And when they’re changed into wolves, do they know they’re wolves?”

“Usually,” Cascade replied. “Werewolves need to shift into their wolf forms, or they sort of build up animal instincts. If they shift once a month, they typically retain an awareness of themselves.”

“That’s good,” I said. “I looked up some studies on the library databases, but you have no idea how many articles there are about werewolves. Hundreds of thousands.”

“I don’t doubt it. I really do think this is something you could’ve just found on Wikipedia, though.”

“That isn’t a source.”

“Nick, you’re trying to learn about a group of people. You’re not writing a dissertation on them.”

I heaved a dramatic sigh. “The sirens don’t seduce and kill sailors, the vampires aren’t at war with the werewolves…next thing I know, you’ll be telling me that mermaids don’t live in the Gulf of Mexico.”

“Well, they actually prefer the Arctic,” Cascade replied.

No, they didn’t. Mermaids were elusive, but I’d written a paper on them. I at least knew they preferred warmer climates. “Do they?” I asked, playing along.

“Oh, yes,” Cascade said with wide-eyed sincerity. “Would I lie to you, my dearest Nicholas?”

“In a heartbeat,” I deadpanned. “You’re doing it now.”

Alex walked in then, and I not-so-subtly glanced away. I was totally not taking his slight personally. So what if he wanted to make an appointment with my best friend instead of me?

“Hello,” Cascade said. “If you head in, I’ll be with you in just a second.”

“Sure,” Alex said.

He strode past with a rustle of wool. I may have cast a longing glance at his back, although I would’ve denied it later.

“You like him?” Cascade whispered once he was out of earshot.

“I think he’s attractive, but it wouldn’t work,” I answered. “Please, don’t give him my phone number.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” she said.

Cascade followed Alex into the tutoring room. I sighed and pulled up my university email. I had no appointments all day, so I figured I might as well get some work done. Still, it being the second week of class, there really wasn’t much to do.

I had twenty new emails. Most of them were trash: invitations to join a fraternity, notices about new university activities, an ad about the new intramural sports. I considered what Alex had said about hiking. It was true I’d never tried sports in earnest, but hiking couldn’t be too hard, could it? It was basically just walking outdoors, wasn’t it? Maybe Alex would’ve been more interested if I’d been an active, sporty person rather than a rail-thin, bookish nerd.

One of my chemistry classmates had replied all to an email the professor sent out. People that replied all irrationally annoyed me. Bethany Dubois was now my mortal foe. There were a few email alerts about future appointments students had scheduled with me. I didn’t recognize any of the names. My appointment schedule might be slow now, but I’d be booked solid come midterms, which suited me just fine. Having lots of free time at work was far from the worst thing to ever happen to me, but I still liked feeling useful. As a graduate assistant and writing consultant, the university paid for my tuition and sometimes, I felt a bit guilty taking it without working harder. Those feelings would, of course, fade by midterms. Then, I’d be practically pulling my hair out trying to juggle a full schedule of appointments and my own exams.

If I hadn’t been too proud during the fall semester, I probably would’ve slept in the writing center like a couple of my fellow consultants had. I could just sleep, wake up, and work. No driving required. Of course, Cascade would murder me if I suggested such a thing. As she kept telling me, she was a lady of class and breeding, and as her friend, I was expected to maintain a certain level of dignity. Sleeping in my workplace to shave a few minutes off in the morning was unacceptable.

I’d cleared out my email and was halfway through my calculus homework when Cascade returned, Alex at her heels. Cascade sat beside me. Her lips were pursed like she wanted to say something, but no words came out. Alex hovered over her and drummed his fingers against the table.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said.

“Me?” I asked blankly.

His forehead furrowed. “Well, I’m not asking her,” he said, indicating Cascade.

“Oh?”

Alex glanced at the open door behind him. “My pack knows I’m not attracted to women,” he said, lowering his voice.

“Okay?”

“I wondered if you’d be willing to pretend to be my boyfriend,” Alex said, not beating around the bush.

Cascade steepled her fingers beneath her chin and fixed her attention squarely on me. I wondered if Alex had asked her permission to do this. Whatever this was.

“You’re joking,” I said.

“No,” Alex replied. “I need to…attend certain functions and I’d like to have a date to accompany me. You have characteristics that are in line with what I need. Come on. It’ll be fun,” he grinned roguishly.

He wanted me to pretend to be his boyfriend. This was the most absurd request I’d ever heard.

“You don’t have to answer him now,” Cascade said. “Especially since I’m sure it feels like he’s put you on the spot.”

“Obviously,” Alex said, “but just think. It’s like a secret mission. I’ll buy you food and pay to take you out. I only need you to pretend for a month or so. We can even come up with an entire fake history!”

Alex clapped his hands together, seemingly thrilled with that idea.

“We can say that I saved you from a wannabe necromancer that wanted to use your virgin blood to raise the dead! Or—”

“Why can’t we just say we met at the university?” I asked.

Alex shook his head. “Because that’s so boring! Why would you say that when we could’ve met fighting rogue necromancers?”

“Academia isn’t boring! Without academia, we wouldn’t know so much stuff. We wouldn’t know anything about stellar evolution or—”

“Because stellar evolution is something I’ll need to discuss so often in my life.”

I leveled a death glare at him.

“Oh, come on! It’s physics. Do you even get to blow stuff up? Like in chem?” Alex asked. “If you’re going to do a Science, Technology, Engineering and Math major, you should at least pick an exciting one.”

“My life is exciting enough. Once a week, the STEM students and the humanities students have a meeting and plot how to take down the business students, who keep getting all the funding.”

“Oh, yes, you poor STEM students,” Cascade said. “The English department survives on five dollars and a handful of stolen McDonald’s napkins.”

“At least you have five dollars,” I countered. “We’ve been trying to get funding for telescopes for months now. My tuition keeps getting raised and I still don’t have access to proper equipment in the astronomy labs.”

“It’s because all the increased tuition went to building the football stadium,” Cascade replied. “So we need to band together against the true enemy: the football players.”

Cascade looked Alex up and down.

“You look like you’re plotting my death,” Alex said.

“I am.”

Alex shook his head, grabbed a writing center flier off the desk, and wrote down his phone number. “Give me a call if you decide you’re interested. Or text. If you call during the evening, I’ll probably be busy. Mornings are out, too, so shoot for midday. We can hash out the details over dinner or something. My treat,” he said.

“Okay,” I answered.

I managed to keep my composure until Alex left. Then, I gawked at Cascade and snatched the paper off the table. “Did that just happen?” I asked.

“Yes. Are you going to take him up on it?”

“I honestly have no idea. Do you think I should?”

Cascade bit her lip. “It sounds like the plot of a romcom,” she said.

“Well, I’m no Reese Witherspoon.”

“No. You’re not. I mean, you can do it if you want. It’s up to you, but I think he has an ulterior motive beyond needing to impress people,” she said.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, but as far as supernatural creatures go, a werewolf isn’t a bad choice. He won’t want to suck your blood or eternally bind himself to you or anything.”

“Who does that?”

“The fairies,” Cascade said. “They’re very fond of pretty mortals, although not in any sort of—shall we say—healthy way.”

I folded the paper in my hands. This seemed like a sign. Wasn’t a romantic relationship without the commitment exactly what I wanted? Here was an opportunity for just that, and even better, it had a set deadline. One month and I’d be free. Plus, Alex wasn’t a bad looking man. Not at all.

But would we even have anything in common? I’d dated a jock once—a linebacker my freshman year of college. It’d quickly become clear that said jock cared only about football. He’d talked about it the entire date, drowning out my numerous attempts to turn the conversation to something—anything—else. Then, when we’d gone to the movies, he’d called me weak and insisted I’d be more attractive if I took up his weight regime. I’d taken the popcorn bucket for the free refill and ditched him.

Cascade and I had laughed over it later, so it wasn’t as though it was some looming, traumatic scar on my dating history. Still, did I really want to agree to this? Granted, it wasn’t like I was signing over my immortal soul. If it didn’t work out, I could always back out of the arrangement. What was the worst that could happen?