Dating An Alpha At Weimar High

Episode Two

As Niklaus evaluated me, his eyebrows shot up in surprise; his next words, "... You're spicier than you look," were tinged with subtextual language. His smile matched a lazy motion as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

Then the discussion turned to expositional language when he said, "Weimar High, right? Does your ideal Prince Charming know me? The question hung there, loaded with implication. I paused for a moment and then tried to correct him, beginning with, "Adler is—."

My six-month anniversary is tonight, yet almost nobody seems aware of it at that moment—a flash of inner dialogue. Adler was indifferent to school gossip, and his presence brought me joy. I tried to remember his name but stammered as Niklaus's eyes flashed with identification.

León Rhyner? Indeed, a fantastic benefit to the team. An actual fun man. His voice startled me slightly in a light-hearted monologue. "Speaking of fun", he said, "Connor's throwing a party while his folks are out." Go visit; drop by. You might find something enjoyable.

The idea struck me as a funny conversation; the ridiculousness of it made me shiver since the winter air reminded me I still wore a cardigan. I decided to drop the discussion behind and encircle myself with my arms.

Niklaus's voice trailed after me: "Remember! 8593 Reef Way! His voice was direct and almost interrogative, as if he expected a quick answer. I said nothing; more talk was not necessary.

I started to text Adler next. The timestamps on my messages—9:52, 10:10, 10:35, 10:55—echoed in my mind like a boring drumbeat. By 11 PM, I was alone in the snow outside the now-closed restaurant, clutching a to-go box containing half-eaten breadsticks. A continual reminder of my neglect, my stomach rumbled.

Was Adler getting me upright? In my mind, the interrogative conversation begged responses. He could not have forgotten me. Maybe all he was was bored. I explained aloud in a stream-of-consciousness dialogue: He might have been in an accident, or his phone battery might have run dead. Still, I knew something was strange deep down.

Had Adler been heading to a party, he would have mentioned it. Unlike Anne-Marie, who had spiralled out of control earlier, I did not have to. Adler and I were formally a couple, but doubts crept in mercilessly.

Then a resolution developed in my inner conversation: I could still check on him. It was not too late. Although I knew nothing about Connor, he might be able to help clarify Adler's location. I told myself, It's okay; just have a look.

When I got to the site, I saw Adler's car right away among the others. The inside was stifling; the music blasted so loudly that every step felt like a push against an invisible tide, and the lights were brilliant. The packed audience felt like pressure from bodies all around me.

I started on the tiled floor and soon found Connor. Lanky, he slumped in a chair with an off-brand alcohol bottle dangling from his hand. "Hey..'." I greeted, my voice wobbly.

Connor blinked slowly, not sure whether I was real or a creation of my mind. My hair was messy, and I could hardly put coherent words together. I stammered, "Uhm...ah... Adler." Uhm... do you know where he is?

Connor squinted; the loud music muffled his response. "What?" he asked in a disinterested, perplexed voice.

The noise rendered almost impossible hearing possible. I tried speaking up, and in an interrogative conversation, I yelled, "I said! Where on earth is Adler? In the charged environment, my throat felt raw and sweat dripped down my back.

OHH. Damn, you didn't have to yell," Connor huffed, his voice softening as he answered in a more laid-back, funny way. "He's sleeping upstairs.”

I felt a tsunami of relief. I looked for the staircase; my inner conversation now became a frantic checklist: stairs, then the bedroom, then Adler. Driven, I negotiated the sea of people, my steps accelerating as I approached the stairway.

A quieter hum took place to replace the turmoil of the lower level once I reached the second floor. I could hear more than the buzzing of far-off voices, the ringing in my ears, and my own laboured breathing. Despite everything, I felt his presence, a comforting thought amidst the chaos. Adler was almost here.

Careful not to disturb him, I gently pushed open a slightly ajar door. Under a heap of blankets, Adler was lying in the low light, his focus fixed on the girl he was kissing—her naked shoulders showed in the soft glow of a bedside lamp.

For a moment I froze, a mix of subtextual conversation and conflict murmuring inside me. My head whirled. What now? But before I could say anything, I sensed a quiet question almost inaudible bubbling up on my lips: Is this really what I wanted to see?

A flash of feelings caused a brief, funny back-and-forth in my head: great, just great. Of course, he was at a party with someone else when I came all this way.

I could no longer control the flood of inner thoughts, and in a long monologue only I could hear, I asked silently, how did everything get so twisted? Where did I make mistakes? The words flew through my head in a stream-of-consciousness, chaotic, unedited, regretful flow.

The voices from below drifted upward at that instant, a far-off, vague counting of time passing. I silently closed the door, letting Adler enter his forgetfulness. My back-off from the door was deliberate, every step bearing the weight of disappointment and the acrid taste of rejection.

I stopped at the stair top just before leaving. My inner conversation blended with a faint . interrogative question: will I ever know the actual nature of these complex relationships? Determined but broken, carrying the cold reality of a night that had spiralled far beyond my expectations, the response stayed locked in silence as I turned to descend back into the chaos.