Obsessed With My Alpha

Jonah's Rejection

Gema's POV

It’s been one month. One hellish, aching month without Jonah. I thought I could manage, that maybe I’d be better off cutting him out of my life if he couldn’t give me what I needed. But every day without him has been a reminder of how deeply rooted he is in my life. It’s like there’s this empty space where he should be, and I can’t breathe right without him near.

I slip into Mr. Regan’s Lit 101 class, dropping my bag on the desk in the back corner, where I always sit. College started the day after Jonah rejected me, and it feels surreal to be here, starting this new chapter alone. My birthday’s coming up soon, and I’m trying to focus on anything but him. Tonight, I’m going to my first frat party as a pledge requirement to join the same sorority my mother was a part of here at Crescent Grove University. It’s the only college within thirty miles of our pack, owned by werewolves and exclusive to our kind. Everyone who’s anyone in the werewolf world comes here if they want to be successful, to make connections and secure their future. And here I am, just trying to get through the day without falling apart.

I can’t stop thinking about Jonah, though. I think about the feel of his hands, the way his eyes would linger on mine for just a moment longer than necessary, and, yes, the way his abs looked whenever he’d change his shirt in front of me. I always had to act like I didn’t notice, but the truth is, I’d steal glances whenever he wasn’t looking, imagining what it would feel like to run my fingers over the hard lines of his body. God, it’s all I can do not to keep replaying those thoughts now, my mind drifting…

“Earth to Gema!” Mr. Regan’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts, and I blink, realizing he’s staring at me with an expectant look.

“Um… sorry, Mr. Regan,” I mumble, feeling my cheeks heat up.

He raises an eyebrow. “Care to answer the question?”

My mind scrambles, trying to remember anything he was talking about, but my brain’s blank. Before I can even stammer out a reply, the bell rings, and relief floods through me. Thank you, bell.

As I start packing up my things, Mr. Regan’s voice calls my name again. “Ms. Harris, a word before you go?”

I pause, glancing back at him as the other students filter out. Mr. Regan is... well, he’s a bit of an enigma. Tall, muscular, with the kind of husky build you’d expect in a warrior or an athlete, not a literature professor. And yet, he has this nerdy vibe too, with thick glasses he adjusts constantly and a slightly awkward stance that doesn’t quite match his intimidating frame. It’s a strange combination—powerful yet scholarly, like he’d be just as at home in the gym as he is in this classroom.

I approach his desk, trying to keep my expression neutral. He adjusts his glasses, looking at me with a serious expression.

“I’m worried about you, Ms. Harris,” he says, his tone gentle but firm. “Your grades have been slipping, and you’ve been... distracted. More than usual.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die before I can even form them. He’s right, of course. I’ve been completely out of it, unable to concentrate on anything but the mess Jonah left me in. Mr. Regan watches me closely, his eyes softening slightly, like he knows there’s more going on than I’m letting on.

“Is there something you’d like to talk about?” he asks, his tone gentle.

I shake my head quickly. “No, sir. Just... adjusting to college, I guess. It’s been a lot.”

He nods, but I can tell he doesn’t quite believe me. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, my door’s always open. College can be... a lot to handle, especially when there’s more on your mind than what’s on the syllabus.”

I offer him a small, forced smile. “Thank you, Mr. Regan.”

He nods, his eyes lingering on me a moment longer before he turns back to his desk. As I leave the classroom, I feel a weight settle over me, heavier than before. I’ve been struggling to keep my head above water, to pretend that everything’s okay, but it’s starting to feel like I’m drowning.

Tonight, maybe I can lose myself at the frat party. Maybe, for a few hours, I can pretend that I’m not hurting, that I’m not still reeling from Jonah’s rejection.

After Lit, I head over to the campus café, grabbing a quick sandwich and a soda before my advanced trig class. I spend the whole lecture drifting in and out of daydreams, barely aware of what’s happening on the board. My mind keeps wandering back to the ache that’s settled in my chest since Jonah pushed me away, to that feeling of emptiness I’ve been trying so hard to ignore. Every time I try to focus, it’s like he’s there, right at the edge of my thoughts, and no amount of formulas and equations can push him out. I’m practically in a daze as I leave class, making my way back to my dorm.

My room’s on the west side of campus, in the girls' dorms, where I’ll be staying until I get accepted into my mother’s old sorority. Once I make it through the pledge process, I’ll move into the house, but for now, the dorm is my little sanctuary, a place I can escape to and gather myself, especially on days like these. I drop my things on the bed, take a deep breath, and start getting ready for tonight.

I’ve been putting in the work—training hard with my uncle and the warriors to lean out, to get stronger. I’m still curvy, but my body has taken on a new, fit shape, more defined and powerful. I feel good in my skin for the first time in a while, and tonight, I want to do something for me. I’ve made up my mind to let go a little, to leave some of this hurt behind. I’m even planning to lose my v-card tonight. It’s been hanging over me, this strange kind of pressure, and I’m ready to feel like a new version of myself.

I step into the shower, letting the hot water melt some of the tension away, then shave carefully, everywhere, wanting to feel smooth, prepared, even a little daring. As I step out, the excitement starts to buzz in my chest, mixing with the nerves, a mix of anticipation I haven’t felt in a long time. After drying off, I sit down at my small mirror and start on my makeup, going for something bold but not overdone—a little smoky eye, a hint of shimmer, and just enough highlighter to make my skin look glowing.

Finally, I slip into the dress I bought the other day at the mall. It’s a little red number, tighter than anything I’d normally wear, but tonight I want to feel different. It hugs my curves perfectly, accentuating my figure in a way that’s a bit sexier than I intended. I feel a strange surge of confidence looking at my reflection, seeing myself in this light, this version of me I didn’t quite know existed.

I finish the look by slipping on the silver heels my stepmother gave me as a gift. She’s been nagging me for months now to dress more “girly,” always reminding me that “a girl needs to dress herself in her Sunday best.” It’s something she says constantly, her way of pushing me to embrace my femininity, I guess. And tonight, with my hair cascading in soft waves and my dress making me feel bold, I think I’m finally starting to understand what she means.

Looking at myself in the mirror one last time, I feel... ready. Ready to step out of the shadows of the past week, ready to let go, even if it’s just for one night. Tonight, I’m going to live a little, leave the heartbreak behind, and maybe, just maybe, start to feel like myself again.