Diego
I'd been searching for Bruce for hours. The assignment was due tomorrow, and even though it wasn't long or hard, we were paired together—meaning I had no choice but to do it with him.
He'd disappeared during lunch and dinner, especially when Lian was around.
Lucas returned looking defeated, ranting about how impossible it was to be paired with Max Carver. Apparently, Max had every Omega fluttering around him, batting their eyes and drooling. According to Lucas, Max was too energetic, too flirty—just too much.
So of course, they didn't finish their assignment. They weren't even halfway done. Meanwhile, Jules said Alexander was the complete opposite—quiet, focused. He couldn't understand how Max and Alexander were best friends.But they actually finished their assignment. Together.Must be nice.I wished I'd been paired with Alexander and not the brute.
As I wandered the school hallways, I heard the sharp squeak of shoes sliding across a polished floor from behind a slightly open door.
Basketball court.
I pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside. The ball bounced once, then rolled away after Bruce lost his grip—because he'd turned his head to look at me.
Sh*t.
I swallowed hard.
He was shirtless. His whole body glistened with sweat, muscles defined and taut. My eyes followed the diagonal patch of vitiligo stretching like a pale map from his right V-line across to his left ribs.
Art.No—this was more than art.I'd never seen anything like it.
Bruce was art.
His hair, his face—chiseled, unfairly beautiful. That strong neck, the thick Adam's apple that bobbed when he looked at me. His chest, wide and hard. His shoulders, broad. His arms—God. And those eight-pack abs? His whole body was a sculpture carved from something ancient and cruel.
A mountain of an Alpha. And here I was, caught mid-stare like an idiot.
I forced my legs to move, stiff and unwilling, my heart pounding. His scent was everywhere—sweat and clean cologne mixing in the air, clinging to my lungs.
He croaked, "What are you doing here?" the moment I got close.
I blinked twice. Did he really hate me that much?
F*ck him. We had an assignment, and it was nearly night.
"We have to start working," I said sharply. No way was I backing down.
"I'm done already. I can give you mine—you can copy it," he said, completely uninterested. My eyes, unfortunately, stayed glued to the sweat gliding down his chest.
He snapped his fingers in front of my face. I jerked, meeting his narrowed eyes.
"The assignment is dual, not individual. We're supposed to do it together, and you know that!" I snapped, heat rising in my cheeks—for multiple reasons.
He was still shirtless. I was still mad.
"Put something on and meet me at the library. Ten minutes," I said, my tone sharp as glass. Then I turned and stormed out before I could lose whatever dignity I had left.
Once I hit the hallway, I pressed my palm to the wall and sucked in a breath.
Did I just summon the school president?
I didn't expect him to show. No way would he let himself be ordered around by an Omega—especially not one he clearly couldn't stand.
Still, I made my way to the library. It stayed open until midnight, and with guards roaming the halls, the place felt quiet but safe.
I pushed through the glass doors. The space was empty. Peaceful.
I went straight to the L.O. shelf, scanning the spines until—"Yes," I muttered under my breath as I found the book we needed.
The shelf was polished—no dust, no grime. I slid the book out and made my way to a table with it, plus the writing notebook I'd had in my coat the whole time. The assignment paper was folded neatly inside, pen tucked into the jacket pocket.
Opening the book, I flipped straight to the topic. Easy layout. Clear answers.
I pulled the pen out and began writing.
It was an easy assignment. Wouldn't take long. And I needed to sleep—I was exhausted after today's bow practice. I was starting to get the hang of it, though.
I read aloud under my breath, "The uterus is connected to the rectum—"
"Just copy mine and go to sleep."
His baritone cut through the silence, startling me.
I looked up. When had he even gotten here?
I furrowed my brows and glanced at him. "I'm fine. We were told to do this together, not copy each other."
He didn't even react. Just flipped a chair around, straddled it, and leaned over the back like it was his throne.
Cool as ever.
He had a black bandana tied around his head, no braids poking out this time. He smelled clean—like he'd just stepped out of the shower.
Maybe that's why he was late.
His eyes drifted down my coat-covered torso, and I shot him a glare. He didn't seem to notice.
"Can we please start the assignment as a pair?" I asked tightly.
He stared, eyes boring into mine. "Fine."
He flipped the chair again and sat normally.
As I talked and wrote and explained the answers, I slowly realized I was the only one doing any of the work.
He wasn't even pretending to contribute—just sitting there, agreeing quietly, letting me do everything.
Then… he leaned in. I felt the weight before I saw it. His head collapsed on my shoulder.
What the hell?
Was he asleep?
"Bruce?" I whispered, giving him a small shake. No response.
I shook his head this time, a little harder. "Bruce—"
His breathing wasn't rapid. Not quite steady either. Just... soft. Weirdly soft.
Then he moaned—moaned—and rubbed his forehead against my shoulder.
Was I really that boring?
"Bruce," I said, louder this time.
He stirred, blinked, and lifted his head. "Done?"
I sighed. "Not yet. Just one question left. I'll finish it."
"Thanks."
My eyes narrowed. Did he just thank me?
I stood and gathered the papers and book, then walked back to the shelf to return it. When I returned, Bruce was still seated, eyes scanning over what I'd written in the notebook, nodding slightly.
Outside, we exited the library together—but instead of going his own way, the bastard followed me.
I turned, glaring. "Why are you following me? You live in the opposite direction."
"It's late. You shouldn't be out alone," he said, already sounding like he regretted it.
"There are guards everywhere. I'm fine."
"You know Alphas aren't allowed near the Omega dorms, right?"
"I never said I was walking you to your dorm room, kitty."
I stopped. "Why do you keep calling me that? Kitty. Princess."
I don't look like either. I'm just as muscular as him.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he closed the distance between us again. His body loomed over mine, one arm pressed against the wall behind me.
I wasn't sure how I ended up pinned here, but there I was—back against the wall, trapped under his gaze. An inch from him. An inch from... disaster.
His tired eyes studied me. Deep. Lusty.
Not that he wanted me—just… intense.
My mind flickered to Lucas's theory about middle fingers. I fought the urge to glance down at his hands. Was it thick?
Bruce flared his nostrils, breath brushing against my face. "I see you as this fragile, delicate Omega," he murmured. "But take out cute. You're far from that."
And just like that, he turned and walked away—leaving me completely shredded.
Lethal.