Obsessed With My Alpha

Surviving Jonah

Gema"s POV

By the time I reach my dorm, I’m a mess. I close the door softly, kicking off my heels and stripping out of my dress, barely able to see through the blur of tears. I wipe away my makeup, smudging the remnants of mascara and lipstick, and collapse onto my bed, burying my face into the pillow as a fresh wave of tears hits me. Everything hurts—the ache in my chest, the lingering warmth of Jonah’s kiss on my lips, the reminder that I was only ever going to be “almost” for him. The kiss had shattered me in ways I didn’t even know were possible, leaving me feeling whole and broken all at once.

“Damn it, Jonah!” I think, my fingers grazing my lips as I replay the kiss over and over in my mind. The way he’d held me, the way he’d kissed me… it felt like something out of a dream, only for reality to come crashing in right after, reminding me that he’d never want me the way I want him.

Just then, the door opens softly, and my roommate, Shannon, steps in, her arms full of books. She glances over at me, clearly noticing my red, tear-streaked face, but she doesn’t say anything right away. She tiptoes to her side of the room, setting her books down quietly. After a few minutes of silence, she speaks, her tone flat and blunt.

“Even if you managed to sleep with him, a good lay is all you’d ever be to him, you know?” she says, her face emotionless as she glances at me.

I roll my eyes, not in the mood for her brutal honesty. “Thanks for the mind-blowing realization, Shannon,” I mutter, dragging her name out, annoyance seeping into my voice. She just shrugs, seemingly unaffected by my sarcasm, and lies down on her bed, turning her back to me.

A few seconds later, she asks, “So, how was the party?” Her voice is casual, almost disinterested, but I can tell she’s prying.

I hesitate, unsure of what to say. “I heard Jonah was there, in his room with some blonde chick again?” she adds, her tone taking on a teasing edge, as if my pain is some kind of joke to her.

I feel my stomach twist painfully, but I force myself to reply, trying to sound unaffected. “Jonah and I are just friends. He can do whatever he likes,” I lie, hating how fake my voice sounds.

Shannon lets out a scoff, but I catch a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. “Okay. Well, I’m Jonah’s type, maybe I—”

I sit up fast, glaring at her. “Don’t you dare,” I warn, my voice sharper than I intended. She just laughs, lying down and turning her back to me, clearly amused by my reaction.

Two months go by, and Jonah and I don’t speak. I try to move on, to forget, but I feel like a zombie, going through the motions without really living. Every day feels heavy, each one a reminder of how deeply I miss him. No matter how much I try to distract myself, I can’t shake this hollow, aching feeling, like a part of me has gone missing.

Then, one evening, my phone lights up with a text. My heart leaps when I see his name.

**Jonah**: *“Can we meet up and talk?”*

My fingers hover over the screen, my heart pounding as I type my reply.

**Me**: *“Yes, where?”*

**Jonah**: *“The old treehouse.”*

**Me**: *“Okay. What time?”*

**Jonah**: *“8.”*

**Me**: *“Fine.”*

When 8 o’clock rolls around, I find myself standing at the base of the old treehouse, feeling both nervous and hopeful. I don’t know what he wants to say, but just seeing his name on my phone felt like a lifeline, something to break the silence that’s been killing me slowly.

He’s already there when I climb up, sitting on the edge of the treehouse, his feet dangling over the side. He looks up as I approach, a small, hesitant smile on his face.

“Can we call a truce, Gems?” he asks, his voice soft, using the nickname that’s always felt like home. “I really miss you.”

I feel a lump form in my throat, and before I can stop myself, I whisper, “I miss you too.”

"Let’s be friends again?" he says, his voice soft but distant, and I know that’s all he’s willing to give. Friendship, nothing more. I feel my heart sink, but I manage a small nod, trying to keep my emotions in check.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “I can’t live without you, Jonah,” I say quietly, feeling the weight of my words. “So if friendship is all you’re offering, I’ll take it. But there have to be rules and boundaries. I need time… to get over you.” The words burn on their way out, but I know they’re necessary if I’m ever going to heal.

He nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Okay,” he agrees, though I can see a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Then he hesitates, his gaze intense, as if he’s struggling with himself. “But… there’s one thing I need before we do this.”

I feel my heart skip, sensing the tension radiating from him. “What’s that?”

He bites his lip, looking away for a moment before meeting my eyes again, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “I need to kiss you. One last time. Just to… get you—this—out of my system.”

His words send a shiver through me, and I can’t help but lift my fingers to my lips, remembering that kiss, the one that felt so real, so electric. I don’t know if I can go through that again, not when it left me feeling so complete and broken all at once. But there’s a small, dangerous part of me that wonders… could it work? Could this final kiss help me let him go?

“I… I don’t know,” I whisper, hesitation thick in my voice. I stand up, putting a little distance between us, almost ready to leave if I have to. I don’t trust myself to survive another kiss from him, not when he’s still just a breath away.

“Please, Gema. I need this.” His voice is low, rough, like he’s holding back so much more, and there’s a desperation there that I haven’t heard before. He clears his throat, biting his lip again, and I realize he’s just as conflicted as I am.

I swallow hard, my heart racing. “Fine,” I say, barely above a whisper. I sit down next to him, scooting closer, bracing myself. “I’ll let you kiss me. One last time.”

For a brief moment, his face lights up, a flicker of something I can’t quite place—hope, maybe? But just as quickly, he masks it, his expression going neutral. Then, with one swift movement, he wraps his arm around my waist, lifting me effortlessly onto his lap. I gasp, finding myself straddling him, my hands on his shoulders to steady myself. His muscular arms hold me firmly, wrapping around me in a way that makes my heart race and my skin burn with anticipation. I’m in heaven and hell all at once, my mind torn between wanting to melt into him and wanting to run far, far away.

He pauses, his hands steady on my waist, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes me tremble. And then, without another word, he leans in, his lips brushing mine softly at first, a featherlight touch that leaves me breathless. But then the kiss deepens, growing urgent and hungry, and I feel myself slipping, falling into the moment, forgetting everything but the way he feels, the way he holds me like I’m the only thing that matters.

My fingers thread into his hair as he pulls me closer, his lips moving against mine with a desperation that matches my own. My body is pressed tight against his, every inch of me feeling alive, electric, and the world fades until it’s just us, tangled together in this one, perfect, heartbreaking moment. I feel his heartbeat against mine, fast and frantic, and I realize this kiss is doing the opposite of what I’d hoped—it’s binding me to him even more, making it harder to imagine a life without him.

When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathless, our foreheads resting together as we struggle to catch our breath. He looks at me, his expression vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen before, and I know he feels it too. This connection, this longing, this undeniable pull between us.

But he says nothing, just closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before loosening his grip around my waist. I slide off his lap, feeling the cold rush back as the warmth of his touch fades, and the reality of our “one last kiss” settles over me like a heavy weight.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice raw, almost broken.

I nod, unable to find the words to respond, and leave the treehouse, my heart shattered and piecing itself back together all at once, knowing that this was both the beginning and the end of something we’ll never fully understand.