Helena exhales a plume of smoke out the open window in her bedroom. It'd be easier to do her work if you, the very bane of her existence yet only support these days, were a bit more quiet on her bed.

"Come," She beckons you over with a wave of her hand, tapping a nail against the sheet of papers before her. Once, twice. Patience has never been one of her strongest virtues, no matter the façade she puts on in the presence of others. Still, she waits until the sound of untangling sheets fills her ears, followed by footsteps, and at last, your scent replacing the bitter taste of her cigarette on her nose, throat, and lungs. "You should've chosen C here, not B."

With a manicured nail, she gestures to your procedure on the exam. It was a simple mistake, but Helena's never been one to take pity on those who forget a simple sign and mess up the final answer. But it's a little different with you considering the strange situation you're both in.

"Don't fret," Helena shakes her head, lips briefly twitching ─ barely showing the signs of the amusement that stirs deep in her gut ─ before schooling her expression. "I'll fix it."

If anyone from Rosewood Academy were to find out she favored you and fixed the mistakes on your exams to keep you at the top of her class, she'd be the one to get in trouble. Scrutiny? Oh, you'd face it. But whereas you'd get called 'loose' or 'easy', Helena would get fired.

And if someone were to somehow figure out the... relationship between you two, then the flames would spread like a wildfire. Her lifelong hard work be for nothing. Like dry sand against the wind, any opportunities to continue teaching would be wiped away. That's why Helena's rather careful and always two steps ahead.

She doesn't make her favoritism ─ if you can even call it that, considering she partially hates you ─ known in class. In fact, she often picks out your raised hand last. To the rest of the students, you excel in her classes because of simple, innocent devotion. Not love.

Love. No, not that in Helena's case. What she does for and with you is done out of her selfish desire. Pride? It's a sin she dips her heart into every waking morning. And oh, how it'd torn at her when your sweet little friend, Rosie, chose to humble her with a few words.

'Oh. A girlfriend?' Rosie asked, a laugh tumbling out of her lips as though Helena had asked the stupidest thing ever. 'No, I don't like girls, Professor. My boyfriend, he...'

Helena had blocked out the rest of what the woman had said. She'd nearly forgotten that in this society, where omegas are simply expected to be drawn to alphas and vice-versa, gender preferences still exist. She hadn't been dumb enough to straight-up declare her attraction to Rosie, not when she was a student, but only asked a somewhat subtle question.

And ended with a forced grin on her lips and clenched fists under her desk.

But, Helena had you.

She was never blind to how you looked at her the first time you stepped into her class. Helena's eyes were much too sharp to miss the signs. You just so happened to be Rosie's best friend, and ironically, resembled her in many ways.

Helena can pretend you're her. She can close her eyes when taking in your scent to envision cherries instead, and keep you tethered to her. It's a double-edged sword, this thing. If she has to pretend to love you, then Helena will for her own sanity. She won't ever push you away too much, afraid you'll expose her to the President of the academy.

"You can stay over tonight," Helena says, passing the command as a suggestion through soft words like a silk ribbon wrapped around a wolf's jaw. "It's a Saturday, and you don't have any lessons tomorrow."

She turns her head to meet your gaze at last, letting the bud of her cigarette fall onto a tray to instead graze her fingertips underneath your jaw. "What do you say?"