MY PSYCHO ALPHA

PART 2 OF CHAPTER 1

“Yes,” he said instantly.

I blinked. “At least you’re honest.”

“I’m not always honest,” he said.

“That’s not reassuring.”

“It’s real,” he said simply.

The icebreaker chaos continued around us. People laughed loudly. Someone behind us screamed, “OMG SAME!” like they’d just discovered they both liked pizza.

Lina returned from her conversation with the girl beside her, glowing like she’d collected a new friend like a Pokémon.

She leaned in. “Her name is Bree and she’s obsessed with horror movies and she said we should all go to the welcome party tonight.”

I opened my mouth to say absolutely not.

Alex spoke first.

“You’re going,” he said.

I turned to him slowly. “Excuse me?”

He looked at Lina, then at me. “You should go.”

“That’s not your decision.”

He shrugged. “It’s not. But you should still go.”

Lina’s eyes sparkled. “See? Even the hot guy agrees.”

“He’s not—” I started.

Alex cut in, amused. “I’m hot.”

My mouth snapped shut.

Lina wheezed like she’d been punched by joy.

I stared at Alex. “You can’t just say that.”

“I just did,” he said, again with the same logic he’d used for stealing the seat.

“You’re unbearable.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I get that a lot.”

“Then why are you like this?”

He looked at me for a second, and the teasing edge slipped away again.

“Because if I’m not like this,” he said quietly, “I’m worse.”

My skin prickled.

Lina blinked, suddenly less amused. “Okay, wow. That got deep.”

Alex blinked too, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Then his expression reset, smile returning like a mask snapping back into place.

“Anyway,” he said lightly, “welcome party. You’re going.”

“I’m not,” I said.

Lina grabbed my arm. “We’re going.”

“I’m going to fake my own death,” I muttered.

Alex’s gaze dropped to Lina’s hand on my arm.

Just for a second.

But something in him changed.

Not anger exactly.

More like… possession.

Like he didn’t like anyone touching me, even a friend.

Then he blinked and it was gone.

I noticed anyway.

Because my body noticed.

My stomach twisted again.

“What is your problem?” I asked him, half joking, half not.

He leaned closer, voice so low only I could hear.

“My problem,” he murmured, “is you smell like trouble.”

I stiffened. “What does that mean?”

His eyes held mine. “It means you don’t belong in a crowd this big.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It will,” he said.

I wanted to demand answers.

I wanted to laugh and call him dramatic.

But something about him made both of those responses feel dangerous.

On stage, blazer woman was clapping her hands. “Okay! Now that you’ve met your neighbors, we’re going to break into groups!”

A collective groan.

Groups meant movement. Movement meant chaos. Chaos meant me losing Lina in the crowd and getting trampled by an enthusiastic upperclassman.

I sat up straighter, suddenly alert.

Lina grabbed my tote bag and shoved it into my lap. “Do not disappear,” she warned.

“I wasn’t going to,” I lied again.

Alex stood up smoothly, like he’d never had awkward limbs a day in his life.

The movement made him tower over the seat, and the people behind us looked up at him instinctively, like their bodies recognized “dominant” before their brains did.

I hated that I noticed.

He held out his hand again—not in a polite handshake way this time, but in a “come with me” way.

I stared at his hand. “No.”

He didn’t move. He waited.

Patient.

Confident.

Like he knew I’d take it.

I didn’t.

I stood up on my own, lifting my tote bag, trying to prove I was not the kind of girl who followed intense boys around like a lost puppy.

Alex’s gaze tracked my movement.

Then, without asking, he took my tote bag strap and slid it off my shoulder.

I jerked back. “Hey!”

He held the bag easily, like it weighed nothing. “I’ll carry it.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.”

“I don’t know you!”

“You will,” he said.

He started walking, and somehow the crowd made space for him without him even pushing. Like bodies shifted automatically, parting like he was a wave and they were water.

Lina grabbed my wrist and dragged me after him, giggling. “This is the best day of my life.”

“It’s not even noon,” I hissed.

Alex looked over his shoulder, eyes bright with amusement. “Try to keep up.”

“I hate you,” I called.

“You don’t,” he called back.

I choked. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t answer. He just kept walking like he’d dropped a grenade and didn’t care about the explosion behind him.

We followed the flow of students out of the auditorium into the hallway, where the air was slightly cooler but still thick with bodies and noise. A table of volunteers handed out campus maps and little keychains shaped like the school mascot—some kind of angry animal that looked like it wanted to bite taxes.

A girl in a bright shirt shoved a map at me. “Welcome! You’re going to love it here!”

I stared at the map like it was written in ancient language.

Lina grabbed hers, already unfolding it like she was planning a military operation.

Alex didn’t take a map.

Of course he didn’t.

Because why would someone who walked like he owned air need directions?

We moved with the crowd toward a larger open space where signs labeled groups: STUDENTS A–F, G–L, M–R, S–Z.

Lina squinted. “We’re in M–R.”

I glanced at Alex. “Are you in our group?”

He smiled. “Probably.”

“That’s not how the alphabet works.”

“I make it work,” he said.

Before I could argue, someone bumped into me from behind, hard enough that I stumbled forward.

My balance went.

My foot caught on someone’s bag.

For a split second, I was falling.

Then Alex’s hand wrapped around my waist, steady and firm.

He pulled me back like I weighed nothing.

My body slammed lightly into his chest.

And everything went very still.

Not the hallway. The hallway was still chaos. But my world narrowed to the heat of his hand at my waist and the solidity of him behind me.

My breath caught.

His breath was warm against my hair.

“Careful,” he murmured again.

The same word as before.

But closer.

My skin prickled.

I forced myself to step away, because standing there pressed against him felt like a mistake my future self would scream about.

“I’m fine,” I snapped.

He didn’t let go right away.

His fingers tightened slightly, then released.

He looked at the person who’d bumped me—a guy who was already halfway turned away, not even apologizing.

Alex’s eyes darkened.

And something in the air shifted.

Not visible.

Not loud.

But present.

Like the moment right before a thunderclap.

The guy who’d bumped me glanced back for a second, met Alex’s gaze, and went pale.

Then he turned away faster, disappearing into the crowd like he’d just remembered he was late to his own funeral.

Lina’s eyebrows lifted. “Okay… what was that?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, because I didn’t want to admit my heart had jumped in a way that wasn’t just annoyance.

Alex’s gaze returned to me. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

He kept looking, like he didn’t believe my words as much as he believed my body.

It made me feel exposed.

“You’re staring,” I accused.

“I’m checking,” he corrected.

“I didn’t ask you to check.”

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “You didn’t have to.”

My stomach did that twist again, but this time it wasn’t fear.

It was something worse.

Something like attraction wrapped in irritation.

My least favorite combination.

I crossed my arms. “Stop acting like you’re responsible for me.”

His eyes held mine. “I am.”

I laughed, sharp and disbelieving. “No, you’re not.”

His smile returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes this time. “We’ll see.”

Lina cleared her throat loudly, like she was trying to pull the tension apart with sound. “Okay! Group time! Let’s go learn how to not get lost and starve!”

I grabbed Lina’s arm and tugged her toward the M–R sign. “Yes. Please. Let’s focus on normal things.”

Alex followed us without being invited, which was becoming his main personality trait.

We joined the group, which was a cluster of students pretending not to be awkward while all being deeply awkward. A cheerful student leader introduced herself and started talking about campus tours.

I tried to listen.

I really did.

But my attention kept sliding sideways, toward the boy beside me who stood like he was bored by everything and yet somehow aware of everything.

He wasn’t like the other students, who were excited and nervous and loud.

Alex was… contained.

Like a storm pretending to be a person.

I told myself I was imagining it.

I told myself I was being dramatic.

Then the student leader said, “We’ll be heading toward the quad now—follow me!”

The group started moving.

And the second Alex moved with us, the air changed again.

My stomach twisted.

I swallowed hard.

Lina leaned in. “Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?”

“I don’t,” I whispered.

“You do.”

I glanced at Alex. He was walking beside me like it was natural, like we were already a team.

He didn’t look at me.

But I could feel him noticing me anyway.

Like he didn’t need to look to know where I was.

I hated it.

I hated how my body reacted to it.

We moved out into the open, bright sunlight of the campus grounds. The quad was huge—green grass, stone paths, trees throwing shade, students wandering like they belonged.

Somewhere in the distance, I saw a line of darker trees beyond the buildings, thick and shadowed, like the edge of something old.

A sign stood near one of the paths leading that way.

BOUNDARY — DO NOT CROSS AFTER DARK

My skin prickled.

Alex’s gaze flicked toward the sign.

And for the first time, I saw something in his expression that looked like… recognition.

Like the sign wasn’t a warning.

Like it was a reminder.

I looked away quickly, because the wrong feeling in my stomach was getting stronger.

The student leader was talking about campus traditions and where to get the best coffee.

Lina was nodding enthusiastically.

I was trying not to spiral into weird thoughts.

It’s just orientation.

He’s just a guy.

Lights flicker in old buildings all the time.

Your stomach is dramatic.

But then—

A breeze moved across the quad.

It lifted the edges of Alex’s hoodie slightly.

And the scent hit me.

Not normal cologne.

Not laundry detergent.

Something sharper.

Something wild.

Rain.

And metal.

Like the air right before lightning strikes.

I turned my head toward him without meaning to, and the smell wrapped around me like a warning.

Like a storm that belonged to him.

Alex finally looked down at me.

His eyes were dark and focused.

And his mouth curved into that half-smile again, like he’d been waiting for me to notice.

For a second, the noise of the quad faded.

The sunlight felt too bright.

My heartbeat felt too loud.

Alex leaned in just enough that only I could hear him.

“You smell it too,” he murmured.

My throat went dry.

“What—what are you?” I whispered, even though I didn’t know why I was asking.

His smile deepened, slow and dangerous and almost gentle.

“Your problem,” he said.

And the air around us tasted like rain and metal—like a storm that belonged to him.