Dating An Alpha At Weimar High

VALDA’S POINT OF VIEW Every surface in Michelie's Brasserie reflected the glow from the neon lights, warping my view in the rearlit mirrors. I caught a glimpse of myself and contemplated the situation. What a strange sight—I identified more with a rat than with a person. With nervous energy, I shuffled through the evening silently cursing that weeks of planning had left me with cardigan sleeves that were too long and a headband that failed miserably to tame my wild, wavy hair. I questioned whether Klaus Edelstein knockoffs would be enough tonight. My inner voice insisted I had to look my best if Adler saw the effort. That idea kept coming back to me as I looked for any fresh messages on my phone—anxious expectation whirling in my chest. The direct conversation on my phone screen began thirty minutes ago and was still unread. I squinted at that point; it was already 9:43. My head spun with the alternatives. Should we leave now and still make it to the New Year's fireworks show? Inner conversation: I want Adler not caught in something else tonight. My phone's soft reminder beep cut off my thinking. I remembered the low, urgent message I had whispered earlier, "Keep it cool, Valda... simply two more minutes." That reminder seemed to be both a command and an internal desperate plea. The books were set; repeated bombardment was not necessary. Then, from behind, quick footsteps and a shout followed. As I swung open the bathroom door, a voice shouted, "Don't go!" I almost knocked myself in the face with it. Anne-Marie Dinger owned the voice. I peeked through the doorway and saw her standing there, stunning in a deep blue dress that clung to her figure as if it were explicitly sculpted for her. Although I try not to obsess over such details, the dance team must have performed incredible feats with her legs. Rather, I could only notice that the man she was clinging to appeared lost in his world, indifferent. I remembered listening in passing through the room, indirect conversation whirling around. There was a rumour that Niklaus Vosberg, the captain of the American football team and a notoriously lazy playboy, received a significant amount of attention. I remembered his reputation with a mixture of contempt and amusement, as I had never particularly liked him. Still, his presence was unavoidable. In a flash of inner conversation, I silently asked, Could I be caught in a whirl of drama I never asked for? My phone burst into sound, a loud, blaring ringtone that sent my heart into a furious sprint. My thoughts kept running. "Ah. 9:45," I said, barely audible, as panic hit. I desperately tried to silence my phone, but the bathroom door pushed open before I could. I staggered back, eyes gone wide with panic. Anne-Marie was flawless and enraged. She was tall and strong, her weight overpowering my presence. I tried to slide past her, but her hand grabbed onto my shoulder with such force that I shivered down my spine. She hissed, her nails digging in, the sound of her fury sharp as broken glass. "Who the hell are you?" Just now, you were listening to us? Not sure exactly. Made a video to have fun with your b***h buddies? I managed a weak "Uh—"—then another presence intervened. My other shoulder was grabbed by a big hand, yanking me away so quickly that I discovered myself pressed against a hard chest. A saccharine voice met me, "Hey darling, what took you so long?" The tone was undulating, sweet and cloying. My mind noted a quick inner conversation. Adler would never use his words in such a universal way. Still, when I looked up, Niklaus Vosberg had the friendly brown eyes. He winked at me and then turned his focus back towards Anne-Marie. “... What’s that look for? You know me not to date. I was simply looking for fun, but... that is not the case anymore. See you. His direct conversation was sharp and contemptuous, as though he were closing a door long open. I was led away in a blur, muffled conversation filling my ears. Trying to organ As I struggled to organise my thoughts, I couldn't help but wonder if his hands were always this large. f driven by a vice, offered no place for release. I started to wonder in a stream-of-consciousness internal monologue: How did I wind up here? I was waiting for Adler for one minute; then I was caught in a confrontation with Niklaus and Anne-Marie. The cool outside air was a sobering reminder of how far we had drifted down the street, the stinging wind triggering a panic I could hardly control. "Okay, she's leaving. Thank f**k—a fragmentary comment from behind me, a conflict dialogue as casual as it was hostile. I wriggled free of Niklaus's grip fast, almost running across the pavement covered in snow-dusters. I dared to glance at him with a silent, subtextual warning, but he just raised his hands as though I were a terrified deer." Hey, yeah, I apologise about that. Jess was hopping down my throat. His voice faded in expositional dialogue elucidating the circumstances. As he said, "You were a great help," I felt his eyes gliding over me and his voice tinged with something disturbing. Is your number something I could have? I'll arrange this for you. I stopped, a moment of interrogative conversation developing inside my head. Did he merely use me to correct Anne-Marie? The irritation bubbled inside, and I shot back sharply, "...No need." Driven to get back to the restaurant, I staggered away from Niklaus. My only thinking was to wait for Adler; every step matched my pulse. His trainers suddenly showed up next to me, pulling me back into the here-now. "I mean it; I apologise sincerely about that. For actual Are you currently waiting for someone? He asked in a funny yet slightly annoyed manner. "It comes close to ten. No decent boyfriend would be late on a day like this. Stopped in my tracks, I turned to face him in conflict. Effortlessly, I opened my mouth and answered, "Someone who uses random girls on a whim should keep their mouth shut. He is a thousand times better than you.