MY PSYCHO ALPHA

PART 2 OF CHAPTER 2

At least one part of my day was normal.

I set my tote bag down and turned back to the common room with determination.

“I’m going to housing,” I announced.

Alex leaned against the wall again, arms folded. “Okay.”

Lina blinked. “Wait—are you coming with her?”

Alex’s eyes slid to me. “Yeah.”

I snapped, “No.”

He said, “Yes.”

I pointed at him again because pointing was the only weapon I had left. “You are not coming.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You don’t want witnesses?”

“I don’t want you.”

“Same thing,” he said again like it was his favorite sentence.

Lina covered her mouth to hide her laugh. “This is the best housing mistake ever.”

“This is the worst,” I argued.

Alex took one step toward me.

Not threatening.

Not aggressive.

Just… closer.

And somehow that was worse.

His voice dropped, quieter. “You’ll be safer if I walk with you.”

My chest tightened.

I hated that my first instinct was to ask why.

Instead, I forced a laugh. “From what? Orientation pamphlets?”

His gaze flicked down the hallway.

Then back.

“There are people here,” he said simply, “who don’t know how to take no.”

My stomach twisted.

I didn’t like the way he said that like it was a fact, not a warning.

Lina shifted awkwardly, suddenly less amused.

I lifted my chin. “Fine. Walk. But don’t talk.”

Alex’s smile returned. “Deal.”

He absolutely planned to talk anyway.

We left the suite together, Lina trailing behind like she was walking out of a movie theater and didn’t want it to end.

The hallway was busy—students dragging boxes, slamming doors, laughing loudly like they weren’t afraid.

I pretended to be like them.

Normal.

Safe.

Not thinking about the fact that my suite-mate might be a storm disguised as a boy.

We reached the stairwell.

Alex held the door open without being asked.

I walked through without saying thank you because I was still angry and petty.

He didn’t seem offended.

He seemed amused by my pettiness, which was infuriating.

We stepped outside.

The sun hit my face like a reminder that the world was still normal, even if my life wasn’t.

Student Services was a short walk away.

I stormed ahead.

Alex matched my pace effortlessly, hands in his pockets, like he was taking a stroll through his own kingdom.

Lina jogged to keep up. “Okay, but like… separate bedrooms is not the end of the world, right?”

“It is,” I said.

Lina huffed. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being realistic.”

“You’re being—”

“I don’t want to live with him,” I said sharply, because saying it out loud made it feel more true.

Alex didn’t react.

He didn’t even look at me.

But the air around him tightened slightly, like a muscle flexing.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm.

“You don’t have to want it,” he said. “You just have to survive it.”

I glared. “This is not a survival situation.”

His eyes flicked to mine. “It might be.”

I stopped walking.

Lina stopped too.

“Why do you keep saying things like that?” I demanded. “Like there’s some secret danger I don’t know about.”

Alex held my gaze.

For a second, his expression shifted—something darker behind the calm.

Then he blinked and it was gone again.

“Because,” he said lightly, “you’re stubborn and I like watching you argue.”

I stared at him, furious, because he’d dodged the question without even trying.

We reached Student Services.

Inside, the air was cooler, but the line was longer.

Of course it was.

A group of students stood in a snaking line, all holding paperwork and the same expression of why is adulthood like this.

I took my place at the end of the line.

Alex stood behind me like he belonged there.

Lina stood beside me like she was going to die of excitement.

A student in front of us turned and looked at Alex—and immediately looked away.

Like something in his eyes made people remember they had somewhere else to be.

I noticed.

Alex noticed that I noticed.

He leaned closer.

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmured.

“I’m thinking the correct amount.”

He smiled. “Wrong.”

We waited.

Minutes crawled.

The person at the desk kept repeating the same lines: “Yes, I understand. No, I can’t override the system. Yes, you can submit a request.”

When it was finally my turn, I stepped up to the counter like a warrior approaching battle.

A tired staff member looked up. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said. “There’s a mistake. I was assigned to a co-ed suite with—” I gestured vaguely at Alex, like saying his name might summon worse consequences. “—him.”

The staff member glanced at Alex and froze for half a second.

Not fear.

Not shock.

More like… recognition.

Then the staff member’s eyes dropped to the screen quickly, fingers moving.

“I see your assignment,” the staff member said carefully.

“It’s wrong,” I said.

The staff member nodded too fast. “We can submit a request.”

“No,” I said. “Fix it.”

The staff member offered a polite smile that had no power behind it. “We don’t have many open spaces. Move-in week is… busy.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “I requested a different arrangement.”

The staff member glanced at Alex again.

Alex was silent.

Watching.

His calm felt heavier here, like it belonged in the building more than I did.

The staff member cleared their throat. “Your suite is… an approved living arrangement. Separate bedrooms. Shared common area.”

“I don’t want it.”

The staff member lowered their voice. “It might be temporary.”

“How temporary?”

The staff member shrugged helplessly. “A few days. Maybe a week. Sometimes the system—”

“The system,” I repeated, bitter.

Lina leaned in, whispering, “It’s fine. You’ll just ignore him.”

I whispered back, “He breathes like a threat.”

Alex spoke quietly behind me. “I do not.”

I whipped around. “Stop listening.”

“I have ears,” he said.

I turned back to the staff member, trying to keep my voice steady. “So there’s nothing you can do.”

The staff member typed something, then slid a paper toward me. “This is a room change request form.”

I stared at it like it was a joke.

A form.

A paper shield against fate.

I grabbed it anyway because I needed something to hold that wasn’t my temper.

“Fine,” I snapped.

The staff member’s smile flickered. “Welcome to campus.”

We walked out.

The sunlight felt different.

Like the world had tilted slightly and expected me to adjust.

I unfolded the form and saw the fine print.

Room change requests may take up to 14 business days to process.

Fourteen.

Days.

I made a sound of pure suffering.

Lina snatched the paper and read it. “Oh no.”

“I’m going to scream,” I said.

Alex glanced at the paper. “Fourteen days isn’t long.”

“It’s two weeks.”

He looked at me, expression unreadable. “Two weeks is nothing.”

The way he said it—like time didn’t matter to him—made my skin prickle.

“Do you even want this?” I snapped at him. “Do you want me in your suite?”

Alex’s gaze held mine.

His smile was gone now.

His voice was low, steady.

“Yes.”

The single word hit me harder than it should’ve.

Lina’s eyes widened so dramatically she looked like she might faint from romance.

I forced myself to scoff. “Why?”

Alex didn’t answer right away.

His eyes flicked down the path toward the dorms, toward the boundary sign in the distance, toward that line of darker trees.

Then back to me.

“Because,” he said, quieter, “you walked onto campus like you didn’t know you were being watched.”

My blood ran cold.

I laughed too quickly, too high. “Watched by who? Upperclassmen? Student clubs? Creepy campus squirrels?”

Alex didn’t laugh.

He just stared at me like I was trying to joke my way out of something real.

Lina’s voice got smaller. “Okay… that’s not funny.”

I forced my shoulders to loosen.

Forced air into my lungs.

“I’m fine,” I said, because that was my favorite lie.

Alex stepped closer.

Not touching.

But close enough that the smell hit me again—rain and metal, storm and something wild under the human surface.

He spoke so only I could hear.

“You should lock your bedroom door tonight.”

My pulse slammed.

I swallowed. “Why?”

Alex’s eyes darkened.

For a second, something flashed in them—something too sharp, too old.

Then he blinked and it was gone.

“Just do it,” he said.

I stared at him, suddenly not sure if I hated him or needed him or both.

Lina touched my arm. “Hey. Let’s just go back. We’ll set up your room. We’ll make it cozy. We’ll put up fairy lights. We’ll pretend he’s not—”

“A wolf?” Alex offered, deadpan.

Lina squeaked.

I glared at him. “Stop.”

He lifted his hands slightly like he was innocent. “She started it.”

We walked back to the dorms with my thoughts tangled tight.

The suite door felt like a trap when we opened it again.

Inside, everything was the same: the couch, the small table, the kitchenette.

Alex’s duffel like a dark punctuation mark.

I went to my room and started unpacking with aggressive energy—like if I slammed my clothes into the drawers hard enough, reality would rearrange itself.

Lina helped, talking constantly because silence made her nervous.

“So okay, rules,” she said, holding up a pillow. “Rule one: bedroom doors stay closed. Rule two: headphones. Rule three: he cannot—”

“He cannot exist,” I muttered.

Lina giggled. “Okay, fine. But like… he’s not actually doing anything bad. He’s just… intense.”

I shoved clothes into a drawer. “Intense is not a personality.”

“It is if you’re hot,” Lina said.

“Lina!”

“What? I’m not blind.”

I paused, hands on a shirt, and exhaled.

I hated how my body remembered the smell of him.

The storm.

The metal.

Like my senses were keeping secrets from me.

A knock came at my door.

I froze.

Lina whispered, “It’s him.”

I opened the door a c***k.

Alex stood there holding two plastic cups.

He lifted one. “Water.”

I stared like he’d offered me a live snake. “I didn’t ask.”

“You look dehydrated.”

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t move. “Take it.”

I wanted to slam the door in his face.

But my throat was dry, and I hated that he’d noticed.

I snatched the cup.

Our fingers brushed.

That same weird jolt ran up my arm again—fast, sharp, like my nerves had been startled awake.

I pulled back quickly.

Alex’s gaze dropped to my hand like he’d felt it too.

His jaw tightened slightly.

Then he stepped back, calm mask returning.

“Lock your door,” he repeated.

I swallowed. “Stop saying that.”

His eyes lifted to mine.

For a second, his expression softened.

Not teasing.

Not arrogant.

Just… serious.

“Please,” he said.

The word landed in my chest.

I didn’t have a smart comeback for that.

So I whispered, “Okay.”

His eyes held mine like he was measuring my honesty.

Then he nodded once and walked away.

Lina watched him go, then slowly turned to me.

“Okay,” she breathed. “That was… kinda sweet.”

“It was weird.”

“It was protective.”

“It was weird,” I repeated, because I refused to let my brain call him sweet.

I shut my door and leaned against it.

My heartbeat felt too loud.

I pressed a hand to my chest like I could physically calm it down.

Lina flopped onto my bed. “Welcome to college.”

“Welcome to hell,” I muttered.

Hours passed in small pieces.

Unpacking.

Texting.

Trying not to think about the fact that Alex was literally in the next room, moving around with quiet footsteps that somehow sounded like he was always aware of where I was.

At some point, Lina left to go meet Bree and the new friend group in her suite.

“Don’t die,” she said dramatically at my door.

“Don’t get kidn*pped by extroverts,” I replied.

She saluted and left.

The common area went quiet.

I tried to enjoy the silence.

I really did.

I sat at my desk, pretending to organize my notebooks like I was a person who had her life together.

Then I realized I needed something stupid—like an extra towel, or a trash bag, or maybe just fresh air before I started spiraling.

I grabbed my room keycard and stepped into the hallway.

The floor was calmer now. Less chaos. More quiet footsteps, distant laughter, doors closing softly.

I walked toward the end of the hall where there was a small supply closet labeled COMMUNITY ITEMS.

I opened it and found… nothing helpful.

Of course.

I sighed and turned back—

And that’s when I noticed him.

A guy leaning against the wall near the stairwell.

Not Alex.

Someone else.

Taller than me. Broad. Wearing a smug grin like it was part of his face.

He pushed off the wall when he saw me.

“Hey,” he said, eyes sliding over me slowly, too slowly. “You’re new.”

My stomach tightened.

Not the storm twist.

This was a different feeling.

This was the feeling of being looked at like an object.

“Yeah,” I said flatly, trying to walk past.

He stepped into my path.

“Where you going?” he asked, smiling like we were flirting.

I tried to sidestep.

He sidestepped too.

I looked around.

The hallway was empty except for us.

My throat dried.

“Move,” I said.

He chuckled. “Relax. I’m just being friendly.”

His eyes flicked to my keycard.

Then to the direction of my suite.

“You in 4A?” he asked, too casual.

My skin prickled.

“Why?” I demanded.

He shrugged. “Heard a rumor.”

“What rumor?”

His grin widened. “That there’s a pretty girl living with a guy.”

My blood went cold.

I tightened my grip on the keycard. “It’s a suite. Separate rooms.”

He stepped closer anyway.

Too close.

Close enough that I could smell his cheap cologne.

I leaned back instinctively.

“I didn’t ask,” he said, voice lowering. “I like pretty girls.”

My heart hammered.

“Move,” I said again, louder.

He laughed softly. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to run.

But my body froze in that horrible way it does when it’s trying to decide whether fighting or fleeing will get you killed.

He reached out like he was going to touch my arm—

And the air changed.

A scent cut through the hallway like a blade.

Rain.

Metal.

Storm.

The guy’s smile faltered.

A shadow moved behind him.

Then Alex’s voice came, low and calm and absolutely terrifying.

“Don’t.”

The guy froze mid-motion.

Slowly, he turned.

Alex stood a few feet away, hands at his sides, expression blank.

But his eyes—

His eyes were not blank.

They were focused.

Sharp.

Predator-still.

The rude guy tried to laugh it off, but his laugh came out thin.

“Hey, man,” he said. “I was just talking.”

Alex didn’t move.

He didn’t smile.

He didn’t blink.

“Move,” Alex said.

The rude guy lifted his hands like he was innocent. “Relax. I’m just being friendly.”

Alex stepped forward once.

Just one step.

And something invisible pressed down on the hallway, like the air itself had decided to obey him.

The rude guy’s confidence cracked.

His eyes darted to me.

Then back to Alex.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Not my fault you’re overprotective.”

Alex’s mouth didn’t change.

But his eyes—

His eyes flashed.

Not like a normal human expression.

Not like anger.

Like something inside him shifted and showed itself for half a second.

A flicker of light—golden, wild, wrong.

The rude guy’s face drained of color.

He backed away so fast he nearly stumbled.

“Okay,” he said quickly. “Okay. Sorry. I’m leaving.”

He turned and walked away like the hallway was on fire behind him.

I stood frozen, lungs locked.

Alex’s gaze followed the guy until he disappeared down the stairs.

Then Alex turned to me.

The gold was gone.

His eyes looked dark again.

Human.

Almost.

But I had seen it.

I had definitely seen it.

My voice came out in a whisper. “Alex…”

He took one step closer, and the storm smell wrapped around me.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice softer now.

I stared at his face, at his eyes, at the calm mask that didn’t match what I’d just witnessed.

“What,” I breathed, “was that?”

Alex didn’t answer.

He just looked at me like he was deciding how much truth I could survive.

And for one terrifying moment, I realized—

The housing office didn’t mix up rooms.

It put me exactly where Alex wanted me.

And his eyes…

His eyes were not normal.