Obsessed With My Alpha

Obsessed with my Alpha

Gema's POV

*Obsessed* doesn’t even begin to cover it. After that second kiss with Jonah, I was completely consumed. It had been another long month before we could hang out and be in the same room without that electric tension simmering between us, without the constant reminder of what we’d done—and what it meant, or didn’t mean, depending on who you asked.

But honestly, who was I kidding? I was a wreck. My mind was a mess of thoughts about him, an endless loop of memories of his hands on my waist, his lips on mine, his voice when he asked if he could kiss me *one last time.* I found myself stalking him around campus, glancing over my shoulder whenever I passed one of his usual hangouts, practically glued to his social media. I’d track his phone, scroll through his i********:, refreshing to see if there were any new posts, any new blondes by his side. It was pathetic, but I couldn’t stop. I had to know what he was up to, who he was with, just in case he moved on as easily as he’d promised he would.

We’d set rules and boundaries to keep things “healthy,” to keep our friendship intact, but I broke those every chance I got. No talking about hookups, no questions about each other’s love life—rules that I threw out the window as soon as I felt that familiar pang of jealousy. It was irrational, childish, but I didn’t care. I was spiraling, and it was like I was addicted to him, to the very idea of him, even though I knew it was probably toxic, probably ridiculous. I got so fixated that I almost lost my place in Delta Pi Sigma, the sorority I was pledging. It’s my legacy—my mother was a member here, and being part of it is practically my birthright. If I didn’t shape up, I’d be out, and I couldn’t let that happen.

So, one afternoon, I was moving some of my things into the sorority house, trying to keep my mind occupied, when I overheard one of Laura’s infamous gossip sessions. I stopped in my tracks, listening as she ranted in that high-pitched, breathless way of hers.

“Did you hear? Jonah Snow is officially off the market! He’s got a new girlfriend, and she’s like… gorgeous. Blonde, perfect, all the things I’d kill to be,” she sighed, a dreamy envy lacing her tone.

My heart sank, a hot, twisting feeling settling in my gut. Jonah had a *new girlfriend.* A blonde. Beautiful. My worst nightmare in one perfect little package. I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach, and the realization hit me hard—I couldn’t let this happen. There was no way I was just going to stand by while he moved on, especially not with some carbon-copy blonde who didn’t know him the way I did. I needed a way to sabotage this relationship, to keep him from slipping further away.

So I did what any desperate, lovesick girl in my position would do. I started popping up whenever they were together, “coincidentally” running into them on campus, acting like it was the most natural thing in the world. I’d strike up a conversation with Jonah, make it impossible for them to have a quiet moment alone. I’d find subtle ways to start conflict, mentioning things I knew would make his new girlfriend insecure or uncomfortable, throwing little digs that only he’d understand. It wasn’t my finest moment, I’ll admit. I knew it wasn’t exactly dignified, but I couldn’t help myself.

In my head, I kept justifying it—I was just protecting what we had, keeping things from slipping further out of my control. I told myself that I was just trying to keep Jonah close, but deep down, I knew the truth. I was terrified of losing him to someone else, of being just another forgotten “friend” in his life. And if I had to cross a few lines to keep him, well… what’s a girl to do?

I can feel the adrenaline thrumming through me as I slip into the soft pink mini dress Jonah once loved, the one he begged me to wear whenever we’d go shopping, playfully asking me to “put it on for him just once.” Well, tonight he’d get his wish. I’m playing for keeps, and if that means dressing up and showing him exactly what he’s missing, then so be it. I style my hair the way he likes, soft waves falling over my shoulders, and do my makeup, a little more glamorous than usual—winged eyeliner, a rosy blush, lips just slightly glossed. When I slip on the strappy heels he got me for my birthday, I barely recognize myself, and for the first time, I feel a rush of power I didn’t know I had.

The moment I catch wind that Jonah’s taking *her*—Rebecca, the leggy blonde, his so-called girlfriend—out on a date, something snaps inside me. I pull up the tracking app, heart racing as I watch his little dot move across the screen, until he stops at this restaurant I know well, *Il Terrazo.* It’s upscale, the kind of place you’d bring someone special, and my heart aches at the thought of him with her, trying to make things work. But tonight, I won’t stand by. Not when I know deep down he’s meant to be with me.

By the time I arrive, I’ve crafted the perfect plan. I adjust my dress and steady my breath, channeling every ounce of confidence I can muster before stepping through the doors. Inside, I spot them immediately. Jonah’s at the table with her, looking relaxed and a little too comfortable, his hand resting on her arm. I swallow my irritation and walk over, plastering on my best innocent smile.

“Oh hey, Jonah! Small world,” I say, acting as though I’m pleasantly surprised. He looks up, surprised but intrigued, his eyes widening slightly as he takes me in, clearly recognizing the dress. Rebecca, however, narrows her eyes, immediately catching on to something, but I ignore her, focusing all my attention on him.

“What are you doing here, Gems?” he asks, his voice laced with curiosity.

I give a light, airy laugh, placing a gentle hand on his bicep, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt. “I’m here for a date too,” I lie smoothly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and flashing him a smile. “You know, we should totally turn this into a double date,” I add, batting my lashes in that way he used to tease me about.

He glances at Rebecca, who shifts uncomfortably but doesn’t object, though I catch a flash of annoyance in her eyes. Jonah hesitates, then nods, and I feel a small victory buzz through me as we’re seated at a table for four.

Hours pass, and I keep the game going, glancing at my phone now and then, pretending to check messages from my “date,” who conveniently never arrives. I watch as Jonah tries to enjoy his evening with Rebecca, but I keep injecting myself into the conversation, laughing a little too hard at his jokes, brushing my hand against his arm here and there. It’s subtle enough to pass as friendly but intentional enough to get under Rebecca’s skin. I can see her clenching her jaw, but she doesn’t say anything—yet.

As the evening goes on, I watch them closely, and the moment I catch Jonah leaning in, about to kiss her, a pang of panic shoots through me. I muster up a teary-eyed expression and let out a soft sniffle, glancing down at my phone dramatically.

Jonah catches the movement, his brows furrowing as he leans closer, abandoning the kiss. “What’s wrong, Gems?”

I let my voice tremble just enough to sound believable. “My date… he said he couldn’t make it. I think he stood me up, Jonnie.” The nickname slips out, surprising us both, and for a second, he looks at me with something I can’t quite read.

Without hesitation, he comes over to my side, wrapping his strong, warm arms around me, holding me close. His scent fills my senses, that familiar mix of pine and cedar, grounding me, even as my heart races with the thrill of having him this close again.

“Oh, Gema, I’m sorry,” he says softly, his voice low and comforting, and for a second, I let myself melt into him, enjoying the feel of his arms around me, the warmth and strength of him, as if he’s the only thing in the world holding me together.

But then reality hits, the weight of what I’m doing crashing down, and I quickly pull away, feeling my cheeks flush with both exhilaration and guilt. “Excuse me, I… I just need to go to the bathroom for a minute,” I stammer, slipping away before he can say anything else.

In the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face, trying to calm the pounding in my chest. I glance at myself in the mirror, questioning what I’m doing, wondering if this will even work, if there’s a chance he’ll see through all of it. But before I can collect myself, the door swings open, and Rebecca strides in, her heels clicking against the tile. She meets my gaze in the mirror, her face hard, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“I know what you’re doing, Genevieve,” she snaps, her voice cold. “And it’s not going to make him choose you.”

I turn to face her, feigning innocence, though my heart pounds at the venom in her tone. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I reply sweetly, trying to play dumb, but she isn’t buying it.

“Save it,” she hisses, cutting me off. “Stay away from my man, and keep your grimy paws off him. Jonah’s mine now, and no amount of desperate games is going to change that.”

She storms out, leaving me standing there, her words echoing in my head. I take a shaky breath, staring at my reflection, seeing the determination in my own eyes. She may have called me desperate, and maybe I am. But something in me refuses to let go, refuses to back down.

As I leave the bathroom, I feel a strange surge of satisfaction, knowing that my plan is already in motion. Phase three—done. And now, all I have to do is keep pushing, keep getting under her skin until she’s the one who walks away, leaving Jonah right where he belongs—with me.