Diego
Gasping for air.Still stunned by the words that just came out of the broody school president's mouth.
What?What the fuck just happened?
And—did he just take a shower?
His scent still clings to my nostrils, thick and clean and overpowering. His damn bodywash… it hit me like a drug, and for a second, I forgot how to move. I didn't expect him to show up—not here. Not at the archery range.
I'm flabbergasted.
Scratching the side of my head, I replay his words.I need you in my dorm room tonight.
What the actual fuck is that supposed to mean?
I let out a breath, a sharp exhale that snaps me out of it—"Diego," Ms. Martin's voice pulls me back.
Shit.
I whip around and find her staring at me with raised eyebrows.I must've looked strange—just standing here, dazed, staring at the spot Bruce disappeared into.
Ms. Martin hands me my bow as I jog over to my mark.I grip it tight, trying to ground myself.
"Find your balance," she says, calm but firm. "Never forget that." Then she steps back.
Bruce slips out of my head long enough for me to focus on the tournament next month. Archery—my chosen escape.
After practice, I hit the showers with the other omegas. The school has a strict hygiene rule: no one leaves the range without showering. Honestly, I don't mind. I love being clean.
But Bruce's voice won't shut up in my head.
As I walk to class, his words loop back in."I need you in my dorm room tonight."Why?
"Uhm… what's with that look?"
Jules's voice startles me.
I didn't even realize I was walking with my eyes glued to the ground until he and Lucas appear beside me.
I sigh, low and weary. "It's your school president," I mutter.
Just saying that makes something twist in my gut.
"What does he want this time?" Lucas asks, his tone sharp as we head to class.
I hesitate. His question echoes in my head as I try to make sense of what Bruce said. The words were simple, but the meaning? Confusing as hell.
Should I tell them?
They've both been kind to me. Supportive. Yeah… I'll tell them. "He told me to come to his dorm room tonight."
Gasps. Big, loud, drama-class gasps.Jules and Lucas immediately slap their hands over their mouths, eyes wide, dragging the attention of at least five people in the hallway.
They stop walking, halting me with them.
"Wait! Did you say yes?" Lucas grips my bicep.
"I was too stunned to say anything," I admit. "I don't even know what he wants from me."
I look ahead again, but the unease in my chest grows.
Bruce doesn't like me. He said I'm not cute. He called me fragile. He mocks me.
He despises me.
So why the hell would I go to his room?I'm not trying to get murdered—or worse.
But my brain keeps circling back to it. What the fuck does he want?
We step into the classroom. A few students are already seated. As I pass Jules and Lucas's desks, Jules blurts, "So… are you going? To him?"
I shake my head.But the truth is—Curiosity might win. It might drag me to that room like a sleepwalker.
And honestly, Bruce wouldn't do anything too crazy. He's the school president. He has to maintain some control… right?
The teacher arrives and class begins. For the next couple hours, I manage not to think about Bruce—well, not too much.
Ms. Ramos and Mr. Rodriguez didn't show up today. No one knows why. With fewer classes, I finally have time to catch up on homework and study before night falls.
Lucas and Jules shower before dinner. I rushed in before them, trying to tire myself out with hot water and academic overload—anything to distract me from Bruce.
But I haven't seen him all day. Not once.
It's like he vanished—and that's driving me even more insane.
Frustrated, I scratch my head and stare down at my algebra problem. It's simple. I've solved stuff like this a hundred times. But now? Nothing clicks.
With a groan, I lean back in my chair and stretch, arms flung overhead.
Should I call Caleb?
Maybe talking to him will help. Maybe he'll make sense of this mess in my head.
I fish my phone out from under a textbook. I can't FaceTime him—Jules and Lucas are still here, prepping to study too.
I swipe to his number and call. It rings.
I step out of the room, close the door gently behind me, and walk a few paces down the hall.
"Hi, Caleb," I greet, my voice tight with nerves.
"Diego…" His tone's soft. "What's wrong?"
"It's your birthday tomorrow," I say quietly. "You okay?"
He sniffles. "I'm scared. I'm turning 18… I'm not ready to meet my mate."
My chest caves a little.
Same.
The idea of some Alpha just appearing and claiming me… it makes my skin crawl.
"I wish I could be there with you," I whisper. "We could stay up all night and watch the stars like we used to."
He sighs loud and long. I imagine him sprawled out across his bed, kicking at the sheets. "This sucks. I told my parents not to throw a party. It's pointless without you. I miss you like hell, Diego. Everything's empty here without you."
I roll my eyes, even as my heart clenches. "Tell me about it."
I slide down the wall and sit, letting the phone rest against my cheek.
I want to tell him about Bruce. But he's already overwhelmed. He doesn't need my drama stacked on top.
A sound startles me—Jules pokes his head out. "It's time for dinner," he says gently.
I flinch. I didn't realize how long I'd been sitting there, lost in silence with Caleb.
I hang up, head back to the room, slip on sneakers, and throw on joggers.
Lucas and Jules walk on either side of me, like always. Lucas is rambling about birthday plans, how we'll be stuck here celebrating within these same four walls. I try to listen, I do—but my eyes keep wandering, searching for him.
Everyone's filing into the cafeteria. I'm still scanning the crowd.
No Bruce.
A sigh of relief leaves my chest without permission. It would've been awkward if he were here. Painfully awkward.
We grab trays and head to the food line. There's only one table left—and even that one's technically taken.
One guy sits there, an Alpha. Lian.
He looks like he's waiting for us.
"No. Nope. We can't go there," Lucas hisses.
"But there's nowhere else," Jules whispers back.
We stand frozen like idiots in the middle of the room.
With an annoyed groan, Jules heads for the table.
"Let's go," I nudge Lucas. "He's harmless."
Lucas follows reluctantly.
Lian doesn't say a word. His eyes stay locked on Lucas, arms crossed over his chest. That black mullet, the silver piercing he tucks behind his ear—he's too good-looking for his own good.
Lucas keeps his gaze down, focusing way too hard on his food. I smirk.
It's funny watching these two. It's like a silent movie of sexual tension.
Then I flinch.
That familiar silhouette just rushed past the door. Bruce.
My stomach knots instantly.
I want to ask Lian about him—ask why Bruce seems to hate me, why he wants me tonight—but I don't.
I can't.
Hours later.I'm lying in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, blanket pulled up to my chin.
It's 9 PM.
What should I do?
I pinch the bridge of my nose, my head throbbing from overthinking all day.
Screw it.
I kick off the blanket, swing my feet to the floor, slide on my slippers, and leave the room.
My legs take me to Bruce's dorm before I can stop them.My brain and heart are still arguing about whether to turn back.
But I'm already there.
My knuckles tap the door before I even decide.
A soft click.
My heart lurches.
The doorknob turns. Slowly.
The door creaks open.Bruce.
Wearing a black tank top. My eyes betray me and drift downward—Loose pajama pants, but the outline is still there. And damn, it's… noticeable.
"Come inside," he says.
Huh?
I stay where I am. Arms crossed tight across my chest.
"Tell me what you want," I say, voice firm. "I'm here."
He steps outside instead.
My eyes drop again.Damn it. Why do pajama pants show everything?
I force my gaze back up to his face.
"Tell me what you want so I can leave," I say again.
His hazel eyes flash. The man is beautiful, a bastard brute in every sense.
His Adam's apple bobs as he steps closer—and suddenly, he's right in front of me.
I purse my lips. My skin heats up.
My throat is dry but I manage, "What do you want?"
"I want you." His breath hits my skin like fire.
He closes the final inch of distance between us. I feel his body against mine—he's still soft, but still massive.
"What do you mean?" I manage.
His nose brushes against mine.
A spark. Like lightning down my spine.
He breathes heavily, trying to steady himself.
My arms fall to my sides, traitorous hands reaching for his chest.
His cheek grazes mine, body pressing closer.
Why aren't I stopping him?Why does this feel right?
"Diego," he breathes, voice like a moan.
He cups my cheeks, looking into me like he can see something.
"I want you," he says again, thick with meaning.
"I'm here," I whisper back.
His palms warm my skin, thumb brushing my lips, making them pout slightly.
His eyes… they're fogged. Dilated. Like he's lost in a daze—or something worse.
His face leans in, and I hear his throat work a hard swallow.
Our breath mingles. Hanging in the air.Everything stills.