Oops my crush is an alpha

The alarm clock was screaming at me like it had a personal vendetta. I smacked it off the nightstand (it fell, obviously, because my life is a disaster) and rolled over, realizing immediately that the sun was way too high in the sky.

Crap. Late. Again.

I shot out of bed so fast I tripped over the hoodie I'd worn yesterday and faceplanted right into the floor. Nose still intact (barely), I scrambled to throw on something that wasn't technically pajamas. Found jeans. Found one sock. Could not, for the life of me, find my other shoe.

"Mom!" I yelled, hopping around like a deranged flamingo. "Where's my-"

"Check under the couch!" she yelled back. Which... okay, why would my shoe be under the couch? Spoiler: it was. Because my little brother likes to "borrow" my stuff for his stupid Nerf battles.

By the time I finally had shoes on, I was already ten minutes late. I grabbed what I thought was toast from the counter, only to realize it was basically charcoal. Black, crunchy, smoke-alarm-toast. My mom gave me that look like, why are you the way you are, but didn't say anything. She didn't have to.

I bolted outside, chewing on burnt bread like it was punishment, and sprinted for school. Backpack bouncing, hair a mess, mascara smudged on one eye but not the other. Basically, if anyone saw me, they'd think: yep, she's thriving.

Halfway down the street, I nearly got run over by a guy on a motorbike. He didn't slow down. Just roared past, leather jacket, dark hair flying, attitude basically dripping off him. Everyone knew who he was.

The bad boy.

The one parents warned you about.

The one teachers sighed about.

The one girls whispered about in bathrooms.

And, okay... yeah, the one I maybe, possibly, definitely had the dumbest crush on.

By the time I made it to school, I was already sweating and wheezing like I'd run a marathon. My backpack strap had nearly sliced off my shoulder, my burnt-toast breakfast was still glued to the roof of my mouth, and to make things worse-he was there.

Bad Boy on Motorbike, leaning against the bike rack like a scene from a movie he didn't even audition for. Leather jacket, messy dark hair, bored expression that said he hated everyone but somehow still looked stupidly hot doing it.

I ducked my head, pretending to be very, very interested in the cracks on the sidewalk. Did not look at him. Definitely didn't notice that he looked up right as I passed.

"Girl," a voice hissed, making me nearly choke on my spit. My best friend, Riley, materialized at my side like a demon summoned by gossip. She grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the cafeteria before I could collapse on the spot.

"Did you see him?" Riley whispered, eyes bugging out like she'd just spotted a celebrity. "Motorbike. Jacket. Literal jawline of a god. I swear, he's the reason I believe in reincarnation."

I snorted, dropping my tray on the cafeteria table. "Please. He looks like the reason people don't believe in parole."

Riley gasped. "You're just jealous."

"Of what? His bad attitude? The fact he probably smells like gasoline and broken dreams?" I stabbed my pizza slice with a fork (yes, I eat pizza with a fork, fight me).

Riley leaned in, lowering her voice dramatically. "Rumor is, he got expelled from his last school for fighting. Like, broke some guy's nose in three places."

"Rumor also says our principal is secretly a vampire," I muttered. "Doesn't make it true."

"Okay, but admit it," she pressed, grinning like she already knew my deepest darkest secret. "You think he's hot."

I choked. Literally choked on cafeteria soda. "I do not."

Riley raised an eyebrow. "Sure. That's why you went bright red the second he looked at you this morning."

"He didn't look at me," I shot back. "He probably didn't even notice I exist. Which is exactly how I like it, thanks."

But even as I said it, my stupid brain replayed the way his eyes had flicked up when I walked past. Sharp. Intense. Like he saw too much.

Great. Now I couldn't finish my pizza.

I stared at my pizza like it might give me life advice. It didn't. It just drooped sadly off my fork, mocking me for being pathetic.

Riley nudged me. "You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

"No." Too fast. Too defensive. Totally obvious.

"Yes," she sang, grinning so wide I wanted to stuff my pizza in her mouth just to shut her up.

Thankfully, the bell rang before she could roast me further. Less thankfully, the next class was gym.

Now, listen. Some people are born athletic. Graceful. Built to run and jump and not fall on their face. I am not those people. I am the opposite of those people. If there were Olympic medals for tripping over flat ground, I'd own the record.

So, of course, the gym teacher picked dodgeball. Again.

The teams split, everyone grabbing balls, and I immediately tried to melt into the corner. Which didn't work, because the second whistle blew, I got nailed in the stomach by a ball so hard I saw stars.

"Get your head in the game, Ivy" Coach barked.

Yeah, okay, Coach, let me just detach my soul from my body real quick.

And then-because the universe loves making me suffer-guess who got shoved onto my team at the last second?

Motorbike Bad Boy. Jacket ditched for a black T-shirt, muscles like-no, stop it, brain. He moved like he'd done this a hundred times. Fast. Precise. Dangerous.

Meanwhile, I was crouched on the floor trying not to die.

"Move," a voice growled above me.

I looked up. And there he was. Standing over me like I was the world's dumbest inconvenience. His eyes were sharp, his jaw tight, like he couldn't believe he was forced to breathe the same air as me.

"Uh," I said intelligently. Then, because apparently my mouth has no filter:

"Oh my god... are you part dog or something?"

Dead. Silence.

He froze. The ball in his hand slipped and hit the floor with a soft thunk. His eyes snapped to mine, too sharp, too bright.

And for one terrifying second, I thought they... glowed.

The second the words left my mouth, I wanted to eat them. Shove them back in. Pretend I'd said literally anything else, like "Nice weather we're having" or "Have you tried the cafeteria meatloaf?" But no. I went with dog.

His eyes-no, I wasn't imagining it-they flickered gold. Just for a second. Like headlights switching on, then gone.

My stomach dropped into the floor.

Before I could process, the whistle blew. Game over. Saved by the bell? Not really. Because he never stopped looking at me.

And that was way worse.

I tried to bolt the second class ended, shoving books into my bag, speed-walking like a grandma with somewhere very important to be. But the second I hit the hallway, a hand slammed against the locker next to my head.

I yelped. Like, actual squeak-yelp.

He was there. Too close. Too tall. His shadow swallowed me whole.

"You think that's funny?" he said, voice low. Smooth. Dangerous.

"Wh-what?" My brain turned to scrambled eggs.

"Calling me a dog." His lips twitched, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to smirk or snarl. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I-I was kidding," I stammered. "You know, like, ha-ha. Humor. People laugh sometimes? Not you, apparently."

He leaned in closer. So close I caught a whiff of his cologne-something sharp, clean, with an edge of smoke. "Listen, princess," he murmured, eyes locked on mine, "keep your mouth shut. About what you saw. About me."

I swallowed hard. My heart was sprinting laps faster than I ever could.

"I didn't see anything," I lied. Terribly.

His gaze sharpened, pinning me. For a second-just a flicker-his irises glowed gold again. My breath caught.

"Good," he said finally, voice rough. "Because next time you make a joke like that..." His mouth curved, the world's most dangerous almost-smile. "...you won't be laughing."

And then he was gone. Just like that. Walking off like he hadn't just threatened my life and possibly revealed he was a literal supernatural creature.

I stayed frozen against the locker, trying to breathe, trying to figure out what just happened.

And all I could think was:

Oops.

I stayed glued to the locker for, like, three whole minutes. Maybe more. Maybe I blacked out, I don't even know. My heart was still punching me from the inside like it was trying to escape my chest cavity.

Did his eyes actually glow?

No. That's stupid. That's-

They did glow.

Nope. I'm overtired. I had, what, four hours of sleep? Plus burnt toast doesn't count as brain fuel. Clearly I'm hallucinating.

That's what I told myself as I fled into the locker room and slammed the door behind me.

It didn't help.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, mascara smudged under one eye, hair frizzed like I'd been electrocuted. "You're fine," I told Mirror Me. "Totally fine. Just saw the school's number-one delinquent flash some fancy contacts or... laser pointers... or something. Normal. Completely normal."

"Who are you talking to?"

I jumped so hard I nearly cracked my skull on the sink. Riley was standing there, holding a juice box, sipping it like she was watching live TV.

"Were you spying on me?!" I shrieked.

"Spying? No. Lurking? Maybe." She slurped her juice obnoxiously. "You're pale as death. What happened? Don't say nothing, because I saw you and Leather Jacket Boy doing the whole locker standoff thing."

I flailed my hands. "It wasn't a standoff. It was-uh-he was... blocking my oxygen supply."

Riley raised an eyebrow. "You mean he cornered you?"

"Cornered is such a strong word," I babbled. "He was just... you know... being tall. Very tall. Menacingly tall. But that's fine. Totally fine. Not terrifying at all."

Riley gave me the world's slowest blink. "Girl. Are you sure you didn't just drool on his shirt and then black out from embarrassment?"

"Riley!"

"What?" She shrugged. "I'm just saying, I've seen you trip over flat floors. Wouldn't shock me if you managed to invent a new way to humiliate yourself."

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. If I told her what I really saw, she'd laugh so hard she'd choke on that juice box. Or worse-believe me.

And somehow, I wasn't ready for either option.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was starving, stressed, and already dreading the fact that Riley wasn't going to let this go.

The cafeteria smelled like pizza and feet. Everyone was crammed into their usual spots, shouting, laughing, and pretending the food didn't taste like cardboard with extra salt. Riley and I squeezed into our table, and before I could even unwrap my sandwich, she leaned across the tray like a spy.

"Okay, listen," she whispered. "Rumor is, he broke some senior's arm last night."

I choked on my water. "What?"

"Yeah. Tyler's cousin's friend's boyfriend saw the whole thing." She nodded solemnly, like that ridiculous source was ironclad. "Said it happened behind the gas station. Apparently the guy didn't stand a chance."

I snorted. "Or maybe Tyler's cousin's friend's boyfriend is an idiot."

But Riley wasn't done. "Another rumor says he's in a gang."

"Riley-"

"A wolf gang."

I dropped my sandwich. "I'm sorry, what?"

She grinned. "Okay, not an actual wolf gang. But like... a pack of guys. They hang out in the woods. People swear they've heard howling out there."

My stomach did a weird flip. Woods. Howling. Glowing eyes.

Nope. Not connecting the dots. Not today, Satan.

"That's stupid," I muttered, shoving food in my mouth. "Howling in the woods? Maybe someone's dog ran away."

"Uh-huh." Riley raised her brows, smirking. "So you're saying he's definitely not secretly a dangerous animal-man hybrid?"

The piece of sandwich stuck in my throat disagreed violently. I coughed until my face went red while Riley patted my back like she was helping.

Across the cafeteria, a chair screeched. My head snapped up on instinct. And of course-there he was. Bad Boy Alpha himself, striding through the room like he owned it, ignoring everyone's whispers.

The noise level dipped. Eyes followed him. Girls giggled behind their hands. A couple guys scowled.

He didn't look at me. Not once.

And somehow, that made my chest feel even tighter.

The rest of lunch, I tried to act normal. Normal meaning: don't stare, don't think about glowing eyes, don't imagine him tearing someone's arm off behind a gas station.

Spoiler: I failed.

By the time the bell rang, my brain was fried. I stumbled into the hallway with an armful of books I didn't even need for class, because apparently I hate myself. Kids shoved past me in every direction, the air thick with deodorant and bad cologne.

And then-slam.

I collided with a wall. No, not a wall. A person. A very solid person.

My books exploded everywhere.

"Watch it," a low voice muttered.

I froze. Looked up. And of course-it was him.

Motorbike Bad Boy. Leather jacket back on, dark eyes burning holes straight through me.

"Oh, great," I blurted. "It's you."

His eyebrow lifted. "You sound thrilled."

I crouched to grab my books, mostly so he wouldn't see the fact my face had turned tomato-red. "I'm ecstatic," I muttered. "Running into you is literally the highlight of my academic career."

He crouched too, scooping up a notebook before I could reach it. His fingers brushed the cover, and for a second I noticed how big his hands were. Strong. Veiny. The kind of detail my brain absolutely did not need to log for future daydreams.

He didn't hand me the notebook right away. Just held it. Looked at me.

"You talk too much," he said finally, voice low.

I blinked. "Wow. Thanks for the feedback, Mr. Personality. I'll take that into consideration."

His jaw ticked. He leaned in, close enough that the hallway noise seemed to fade. "I told you to keep your mouth shut."

My laugh came out shaky. "Relax. I didn't tell anyone you've got... you know... special effects eyes."

His stare sharpened. Dangerous. "I'm not joking."

I swallowed, suddenly way too aware that everyone else in the hall had already moved on. It was just us. Him, me, and the fact my heart was beating like a broken drum set.

"Fine," I whispered, snatching the notebook out of his hand. "Your secret's safe. Cross my heart, hope to-"

"Don't finish that sentence," he cut in, voice almost a growl.

And just like that, he stood. Loomed over me. And walked off, leaving me on the floor with my books and about fifty new reasons to panic.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Teachers talked. Notes got scribbled. At one point I think someone asked me a question, but my brain was still stuck on don't finish that sentence and the way his eyes had burned through me like I'd just signed a death contract.

By the final bell, I bolted. Backpack half-zipped, sneakers pounding the cracked sidewalk, I just needed to get home, crawl into bed, and pretend none of this ever happened.

Halfway down Maple Street, though, I slowed.

The woods stretched along the edge of the road, branches tangled, shadows stretching longer than they should've in the fading light. My neighborhood wasn't creepy. It wasn't. But that evening it sure felt like it.

I told myself not to look. Don't. Just keep walking.

Of course I looked.

Something moved between the trees.

Not a person. Too low. Too fast. A shape - big, dark, quick as a shadow slipping through leaves.

I froze. My hands went clammy on my backpack straps.

It stepped out of the trees.

Not a dog. Way too big. Its shoulders rippled as it stalked forward, paws silent on the grass. Black fur, thick and shining under the streetlight glow. Ears pricked forward.

And its eyes.

Gold. The same gold I'd seen in the gym.

I sucked in a breath so sharp it hurt. The wolf - and it was definitely a wolf, no matter how many times my brain screamed impossible - didn't move closer. It just stood there. Watching me.

For a heartbeat, we were locked. Me, human mess. It, giant nightmare dog.

Then a car passed behind me. Headlights flared. And when I looked back-

Gone.

The trees shivered. Empty.

I didn't wait to find out more. I sprinted home so fast I nearly lost a shoe.

And the whole way, one thought chased me harder than my own heartbeat:

What the hell did I just see?

Morning came way too soon.

I sat at the kitchen table, cereal going soggy in front of me, eyes glued to the same spoonful for five solid minutes.

"Not a wolf," I muttered to myself. "Definitely not a wolf. Wolves don't live in suburban neighborhoods. They don't pop out of the woods like some... discount horror movie extra. Nope. Great Dane. Big, scary, steroidal Great Dane. Case closed."

I forced the spoon into my mouth. It tasted like cardboard sadness.

Before I could spiral further, my phone buzzed. Riley's name. Of course.

"Why are you calling me before school?" I groaned into the phone.

Her voice came through, way too awake. "Because I couldn't wait. You're trending."

I choked on cornflakes. "I'm what?"

"Trending. Well, not online-trending, you're not that interesting. But school-trending. Everyone's saying you've got a thing for him."

I slapped the spoon down so hard milk splattered onto the table. "WHAT?!"

"Yeah. Apparently you and Mister Motorcycle had some... 'moment' in the hallway yesterday." She drew out the word moment like it was a dirty secret. "People swear he picked up your books like you were in one of those cheesy romance movies."

"He threatened me," I hissed. "There were no violins. No slow-motion spin. Just... glaring and terror."

"Uh-huh. And yet you're still obsessing over him. Interesting."

"I AM NOT-" I had to lower my voice before my mom barged in. "I'm not obsessing. I'm... confused. And mildly traumatized. Very different things."

Riley cackled. "Sure, Ivy."

I buried my head in my arms. This was a nightmare. I hadn't even made it to school yet and my reputation was already dead.

Riley was still talking, something about making out by the lockers, when my mom popped her head in. "You're going to be late if you keep yelling into the phone instead of eating."

I groaned into the table. "Maybe I'll just drop out. Save myself the humiliation."

Riley didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, good luck with that. See you in the cafeteria, lover girl."

Click.

I stared at my half-drowned cereal, wishing I could crawl into the bowl and never resurface.

By the time lunch rolled around, I'd suffered through three classes, two accidental run-ins with Riley whispering lover girl under her breath, and one very suspicious glare from a math teacher who definitely thought I was hiding contraband under my desk when really, I was just stress-texting Riley.

The cafeteria smelled like burnt fries and disinfectant. I dropped onto our usual bench with a tray of mystery pizza and tried to pretend life was normal. Spoiler: it wasn't.

Because two tables over, I heard it.

"She's totally into him," a girl whispered, just loud enough to carry. "Did you see them yesterday? She was blushing like crazy."

Her friend giggled. "Yeah, and he actually picked up her books. He doesn't do that for anyone."

My face went nuclear.

Riley, of course, perked right up. "Ohhh, the plot thickens!" She nudged me. "Did you hear that? They think you're, like, Beauty and the Beasting it up."

"Shut. Up." I stabbed my pizza. The crust fought back like rubber.

But it wasn't just those two. The whispers spread. Heads tilted toward me, then toward him. Because of course he had to be here too, sitting across the room like a storm cloud with a leather jacket.

He wasn't laughing with friends. He wasn't scrolling his phone. He was just... sitting. Watching. And when his eyes landed on me-

My heart did this stupid trampoline flip.

Riley gasped. "He's staring at you. Oh my God, he's staring at you."

"Shut UP," I hissed, gripping my fork like a weapon. "He's probably glaring at everyone. That's just his face."

"Nope. That's a directed glare. You've been targeted." Riley looked way too delighted about it.

Before I could tell her to stop, a voice cut through the cafeteria noise. One of the popular girls, of course - perfect hair, perfect teeth, the whole "future influencer" vibe.

"So," she said, loud enough for half the room to hear, "you're into dangerous guys now?"

Every head swiveled. Toward me.

I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Instead, I squeaked, "What? No! I don't- That's not- He's not even-"

Across the room, his chair screeched back. He stood, slow and deliberate, his gaze still locked on me.

The room went quiet. Dead quiet.

He didn't say a word. Just walked out. The doors banged shut behind him.

The whispers doubled.

Riley leaned across the table, eyes wide, grin feral. "Ohhh, girl. You're doomed."

I lasted exactly ten minutes after the cafeteria fiasco before deciding I was officially Done™ with school. Not that I cut classes-no, I suffered through them-but my brain wasn't absorbing anything.

By the final bell, I was already plotting escape routes. Straight home? Too obvious. Main road? Too crowded. So I went with the brilliant option: the alley behind the gym.

Dark. Narrow. Definitely not sketchy at all.

I hugged my backpack straps and muttered, "Perfect. Totally safe. Zero chance of being murdered. Five stars."

"Talking to yourself now?"

I yelped so hard I almost dropped my bag.

He was there. Leaning against the wall like it was his throne, arms crossed, eyes gleaming under the shadow of his hair.

Motorcycle Bad Boy, in the flesh.

I scrambled for words. "What are you-are you following me?"

He tilted his head, slow, deliberate. "Why would I follow you?"

"I don't know, maybe because half the school thinks we're, like, starring in some tragic romance novel?!" My voice cracked, which was very helpful to my argument.

His jaw flexed. "You should stay out of it."

"Stay out of what? I'm not in anything! Do you think I asked for rumors? Do you think I want people thinking I-" I cut myself off before I blurted like you. My dignity was hanging by a thread.

He pushed off the wall, closing the distance between us in three steps. Way too close. I backed up, spine hitting the bricks.

His voice dropped. "You don't get it. You don't want to get it. Stay away from me, before you regret it."

I tried for sarcasm, because humor was the only shield I had. "Wow. Very dramatic. You practice that in the mirror, or is it just natural talent?"

For a split second, his mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smirk. Then his expression hardened again.

"You think this is a joke? You have no idea what you're messing with."

My throat went dry. I wanted to push him away, to shout something snappy, but the way his eyes glowed faintly-just faintly-in the shadow made my stomach twist.

He leaned closer, close enough I could feel the heat rolling off him.

"I know where you live."

I froze. My heart kicked into overdrive. "Excuse me?"

He straightened, unreadable. "Go home. Stay inside tonight."

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

Leaving me plastered against a brick wall, heart doing somersaults, brain screaming WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?

I spent the rest of the walk home replaying his words on a loop.

I know where you live. Stay inside tonight.

What was that even supposed to mean?

Threat? Warning? Creepy pick-up line?

By the time I got to my room, I'd convinced myself it was all just intimidation tactics. Bad boys love their cryptic speeches, right? Probably in the handbook somewhere. I shoved my backpack into the corner and flopped onto my bed, face first.

My phone buzzed. Riley, obviously.

"Did he talk to you after school?" she demanded the second I answered. "Because people are saying he stormed out of the cafeteria for you. Like, dramatic swoon-level stuff."

"He glared at me, Riley. GLARED. That's not swoon material, that's... restraining order material."

"Uh-huh. And then?"

"And then nothing! We didn't even-" I paused, teeth worrying my lip. "Okay, fine. He maybe said some things."

Her gasp nearly shattered my eardrum. "WHAT THINGS?"

"Not the fun kind, alright? Just... threats. Weird, vague... warnings."

Riley squealed like this was the best gossip of her life. "Girl, you're living a Wattpad story and you don't even appreciate it."

Before I could snap back, something cut through the call.

A sound. Long. Low. Drawn out.

Howling.

I froze, phone slipping against my cheek. Riley's voice crackled, "What was that? Did you hear that?"

The howl came again. Closer this time. Too close.

Heart hammering, I crept to the window. Pulled the curtain back just enough to peek.

And there it was.

At the edge of the yard, by the tree line, something moved. Big. Too big. My stomach dropped.

Eyes. Glowing. Gold, locked directly on mine.

I stumbled back so fast my phone clattered to the floor. Riley's voice shouted from the screen, tinny and far away: "HELLO?! WHAT'S HAPPENING?!"

But I was already yanking the curtains shut with shaking hands, pressing my back against the wall.

Because whatever that thing was... it was watching me.