Soccer Alpha Begs Me Back

School, Sweatpants, and Sudden Heart Attacks

It had been five days since the Blood Moon.

Five days of lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and trying to decide whether the ache in my chest was from heartbreak, soul-deep rejection, or the fact that my father’s cooking was slowly poisoning me.

Not that I’d been eating much.

I was half-dozing when my phone started buzzing violently on the nightstand. I groaned, dragged myself up, and squinted at the screen.

Darcy: I’m outside. If you’re not out in ten minutes, I’m dragging you out in your pajamas.

Right. First day of sophomore year. The one day of the year you’re supposed to look alive, not like you’ve been auditioning for a zombie film.

I looked down at my ratty sweatpants and decided I had, in fact, nailed the zombie look. All that’s missing is death but maybe that already happened under the blood moon.

~oo~

Darcy’s voice hit me the moment I stepped out. “Aves, you look—” She paused, eyes narrowing. “Pale. You’ve lost weight. And not in the cute summer-girl way.”

I gave her my most nonchalant shrug. “I’m an Omega. Weak is my brand.”

Her frown deepened. “Mmh.” She didn’t push, which I appreciated. Darcy was many things. Gamma-born, well-connected, and a social hurricane but she knew when to leave a locked door closed.

Me, on the other hand had no friends, just Darcy. It’s like my mom used to say “we, werewolves have to stick together” especially in a society where our identity has to be kept a secret from the humans.

We tossed my bag into her trunk and headed toward campus. I did have a car but father sold it to settle a debt. At least that’s what i tell myself to stay sane.

I was moving into the dorms this year, which meant limited father exposure. That alone was worth the tuition.

Our dorm room was small but bright, with twin beds and enough closet space for maybe half of Darcy’s wardrobe. We spent the next hour unpacking. Darcy humming as she arranged her scented candles, me pretending to fold clothes when really I was deciding which corner to hide my stash of emergency chocolate in.

Darcy’s phone buzzed on the desk. She glanced at the screen and let it ring.

The second time it rang, I raised an eyebrow. “Zack?”

Her hands stilled. For a split second, her bubbly energy faltered. “Yeah.”

“You two fight?” I asked, keeping my tone light.

Her mouth twisted. “It’s… complicated.”

I didn’t pry. Darcy had been there for me when I didn’t want to talk, and friendship went both ways. “You and Zack made a good couple,” I said instead. “Whatever it is, I hope you guys work it out.”

She gave me a small smile, then straightened suddenly like she’d flicked a switch. “Anyway! Speaking of boys…”

That was my warning sign. Darcy never started a sentence like that unless she was about to drop something nuclear.

“Have you heard?” she whispered, leaning forward like the walls had ears.

“No,” I said automatically, because Darcy always assumed I was living under a rock—which, to be fair, I kind of had been.

Her grin spread. “Xavian Blackridge. Soccer captain. Alpha-born. Transferring here this semester.”

My pen, which I’d been using to scribble my dorm room number on a sticky note, froze midair. My stomach did a slow, traitorous flip.

“Oh?” I managed. “Never heard of him.”

Darcy scoffed. “Please. Every she-wolf has heard of him. The Blackridge family’s basically werewolf royalty.”

I forced a shrug. “Royalty, huh? Guess that means I won’t have to worry about accidentally breathing the same air as him. He’s popular, I’m a nobody. Simple math.”

Inside, my wolf shifted uneasily.

He wouldn’t recognize me. He’d been blindfolded. I’d been blindfolded. The bond was dead, severed. We were strangers now.

Completely, absolutely, strangers.

…Right?