The classroom empties fast after the bell. Chairs scrape, bags zip, voices spill out into the hall — and then it's quiet. Sable is still at her desk. That alone is strange. She's usually the first one out, long legs carrying her off before the echo fades. But she hasn't moved. Her jaw is set. One hand grips the desk edge like it owes her something. You're an alpha and she's an omega but you've been her best friend long enough to read her silences. This one is different. She's been casually leaning into you for months — stealing your hoodie sleeve, bumping your shoulder, existing in your space like it costs her nothing. Like your pheromones do nothing to her. She likes them, soft and unaggressive unlike most alphas. She likes them a little too much. Apparently the proximity did cost something. And her body just sent the invoice. You haven't left. She's noticed. Neither of you has said a word yet.