The alarm screamed at 8:17 a.m.
Alex shot upright, heart hammering like he'd been caught stealing. First day of college. First lecture at 9:00. He was already screwed.
He scrambled out of bed, yanked on the first shirt and jeans he could grab from the floor—clean ones, thankfully—and shoved his feet into sneakers without bothering to tie the laces. Toothbrush in mouth, he splashed water on his face, ran wet fingers through his hair once, twice, and called it done. No time for breakfast. No time for anything.
He didn't look in the mirror.
He never really had, not properly. Not since the summer when his body decided to rewrite every rule he thought he knew about himself.
Bag slung over one shoulder, phone buzzing with unread "good luck" messages from his mom, Alex burst out of the house and sprinted to the bus stop. The bus was mercifully late too. He climbed on, found a seat near the back, and hunched down like always, hood up, eyes on his phone. Safe. Invisible.
Except no one was ignoring him today.
A girl two seats ahead kept glancing back. Then her friend joined in. Then a guy across the aisle. By the time the bus reached the college gates, half the passengers were stealing looks. Not disgusted. Not mocking.
Something else.
Alex tugged his hood lower and got off fast.
The main gate of St. Augustine College loomed ahead—red brick, ironwork, banners flapping in the morning breeze. He slipped through the crowd of freshmen, head down, following the arrows to the Arts & Humanities block.
That's when it hit him.
Heads turned.
Not one or two. Dozens.
Guys paused mid-conversation. Girls stopped walking. Phones lowered. Whispers rippled like wind across water.
Alex felt the heat crawl up his neck. He knew this feeling. He'd lived it for years in school—those long, sideways stares that said *look at the short, ugly kid, quick before he notices*. The kind that made him want to disappear into the floor.
But these stares were… different.
Softer. Wider. Hungrier.
A group of girls near the fountain actually stopped talking when he passed. One bit her lip. Another nudged her friend and mouthed something he couldn't catch. A tall girl in a cropped hoodie tilted her head, eyes tracking him like she was deciding whether to call out.
His stomach flipped.
*What the hell is going on?*
He walked faster, almost jogging, until he found the lecture hall for Introduction to Literature. Room 204. He pushed the door open—quietly, hoping to slide in unnoticed.
Every single head turned.
Thirty-something faces. All of them.
The professor wasn't even there yet. Just students. And silence.
Alex froze in the doorway for one horrible second, then ducked his head and hurried to the back row. There was an empty bench near the window—two-seater, nobody on either side. Perfect. He dropped into the seat closest to the wall, bag on his lap like a shield, and tried to become part of the furniture.
His pulse wouldn't slow.
*Okay. Breathe. What is this?*
He replayed the morning in his head. Bus stares. Gate stares. Corridor stares. Classroom stares.
*Did I spill something on my shirt?* He glanced down. Plain black tee. No stains. Jeans normal. Shoes tied now, at least.
*Maybe my hair looks stupid. Or there's toothpaste on my face. Or—*
The memory of school slammed back uninvited.
Back then, the stares had been weapons. *Freak. Shorty. Who let the troll in?* He'd learned to keep his eyes on the ground, to speak only when forced, to vanish between classes. Invisible was safer.
But today?
Today the air felt charged. Like static before lightning.
Girls kept glancing over their shoulders. One—a brunette with a high ponytail—actually smiled when their eyes met for half a second. Alex jerked his gaze away so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.
*This isn't normal. This isn't me.*
He sank lower in the seat.
*Maybe I should just go to the bathroom. Check my face. Fix whatever disaster is happening. But if I stand up now everyone will watch. Again.*
He stayed put.
The door opened. A few more students trickled in. More glances. More whispers.
Then the bench creaked.
Someone sat down right next to him.
Alex stiffened.
A soft floral scent hit him first—something sweet, expensive. Then a voice, bright and confident.
"Hi."
He turned his head slowly.
She was… wow.
Dark hair in loose waves, green eyes that looked almost amused, lips curved like she already knew something he didn't. She wore a white off-shoulder top and ripped jeans, one ankle crossed casually over the other knee. Confident. Comfortable. Like she belonged everywhere she went.
"I'm Lexy," she said, extending her hand like this was the most normal thing in the world. "Nice to meet you."
Alex stared at her hand for a stupid second before realizing he was supposed to shake it.
His palm was clammy.
"Hi," he managed. His voice cracked on the second syllable. He cleared his throat. "Uh… hi."
Lexy's smile widened, like his awkwardness was cute instead of mortifying.
He wanted to run.
Every instinct screamed *this is a setup, she's going to laugh, she's going to point out how ridiculous you look trying to talk to someone like her*. He kept his mouth shut after that single word, staring straight ahead at the empty whiteboard like it might save him.
Lexy waited a beat, then tilted her head.
"What's your name?"
Alex blinked. Swallowed.
"Oh. It's Alex." He forced the words out. "It's my first day here. I'm… a transfer student."
Lexy nodded slowly, eyes sparkling with something he couldn't read.
"Transfer, huh? That explains why I haven't seen you before."
Before he could think of a reply, the door swung open again—harder this time.
Another girl strode in like she owned the room.
Blonde hair pulled into a high, messy bun, sharp cheekbones, athletic build under a fitted black tank top and cargo pants. She scanned the room once, eyes landing on Lexy and Alex like a missile lock.
She marched straight over.
"Lexy," she said, voice low and edged, "back off. It's his first day. Don't intimidate the poor guy already."
Lexy rolled her eyes but didn't move from the seat.
The new girl ignored her completely and turned to Alex, softening her expression just enough to look approachable.
"Hi. I'm Anna." She offered a small, crooked smile. "Ignore her. She's harmless… mostly."
Alex opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.
Anna leaned in a little, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Between you and me? Lexy's kind of a slut. She just wants to sleep with you. That's her whole game plan."
Alex's brain flatlined.
He felt his face burn so hot he was sure it was glowing. He'd never—*never*—heard anyone talk like that in real life. Not to his face. Not about sex. Not about anything.
Lexy let out a short, incredulous laugh.
"Anna," she said sweetly, "everyone knows *you're* the biggest slut in this school. So maybe go suck someone else's dick and leave the fresh meat alone."
The words landed like a slap.
The classroom went dead quiet for a second—then a few muffled snickers broke out from the front rows.
Anna's eyes narrowed, but her smile stayed in place. Sharp. Dangerous.
"Careful, Lex. You're not the only one who noticed him walk in."
Lexy leaned back, crossing her arms, completely unbothered.
"Then maybe stop acting like you own first dibs."
Alex sat between them, frozen, heart slamming against his ribs.
He didn't know these girls. He didn't know *anyone* here.
And somehow, in less than five minutes, they were fighting over him.
Like he was something to be claimed.
The professor finally walked in, clearing his throat loudly.
"Settle down, everyone. We're starting."
Anna shot Lexy one last glare, then slid into the empty seat on Alex's other side—claiming the bench like territory.
Lexy didn't move.
Alex stared straight ahead, barely breathing.
Two girls. One on each side.
Both watching him.
Both waiting.
And the rest of the room still stealing glances.
This wasn't school anymore.
This was something else.
And whatever it was… it had already decided he belonged to it.
**To be continued…**