Alpha's Curse

Chapter 3: Starting a Fight

            The second day of school, I wake up battle-ready and pissed off. It won't take but one interaction to make me sock him in the face—and I took self-defense, so I'm pretty sure I stand a good chance against him in a fight. I dress in a dark gray, ribbed v-neck t-shirt, and black skinny jeans with my combat boots and leather jacket. I straighten my hair and put on a thin layer of makeup. He wants to screw with me, fine. But know that I invented the game he's playing—he won't win.

I grab a piece of gum and spray myself with my Sandalwood and Jasmine perfume. Put together nicely enough that it should make him think twice about screwing around with me, I leave the house. Mom is out scouting for jobs, so I walk to school. The air is crisp, cold, and mists when I exhale. It takes a good twenty minutes to get to the school, but when I do, I'm glad I walked. The traffic is horrible where parents are dropping off their kids.

But, of course, I also kind of regret it—Drew is standing by my locker. Instantly, I know that this will end in a fight. Okay, leaning on my locker would be better fitting, since that's what he's doing. He looks almost bored, playing a game on his phone. I steel myself and walk up to him. "Do you mind moving?" I ask, teeth clenched. "You're on my locker."

"So?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. His amber eyes glance down to meet my gaze. "My foot still hurts. You want me to move, you ask nicely—and you have to apologize."

I can't help it—I laugh. "I'm sorry, what? You fucking cornered me after fourth period, and grabbed my wrist when I knocked into you! If anyone should apologize, it should be you!"

The blonde from yesterday comes up to Drew's side. "Hey, boss," he says. "What are you doing? Your locker is—oh." He sees me. I force a smile, and he nods a greeting in my direction before turning to his friend. "Calypso is looking for you?"

"I'll be there when class starts, Josh. I have...bussiness to deal with."

I bristle, crossing my arms against my chest. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not moving until you apologize." He shrugs. I turn to Joshua.

"Josh, is it? Nice to meet you, but you might want to move," I warn. Without question, he retreats to his class. Drew keeps his wary gaze locked on me. Teeth clenched, I put my hair up in a ponytail and tighten my boots up. "Last chance, Drew—move." It's not a request. My fists clench, almost vibrating. My body feels red-hot, angry, ready to move, and it's in fight-or-flight mode. I can't promise that if he doesn't back off, I can stop myself from throwing him to the ground.

"No," he growls. I can tell his energy is on the same level is mine. The bell rings. People clear the hallways. We stare at each other as the announcements crackle across the hallway from ancient speakers.

I smile pleasantly. "I was hoping you would say that," I tell him and then bring my fist back, snapping it foreword to his nose—but he catches it with a raised eyebrow.

"And I was really hoping you'd do that," he answers. Fury trickles down to my toes and what ensues could be something from a combat movie—we trade blows, never actually getting contact, until he has me pinned against the locker. We're both out of breath, but I try to breathe through my nose—and immediately regret it. All I smell is him—a spice I can't name, cedar, something strong and heady, reminding me of a thunderstorm and large trees, something dark. My teeth clench. His eyes turn gold.

The first three words I can think of all describe him and his scent: dark, dangerous, beautiful. 

"Are we done now?" he hisses at me. His voice is harsh. My eyes dip down to his lips.