He snorts and turns away.
"You didn’t lose everything, Alex. Bay is still supporting you, you have great grades in college, they already hire you to help the teachers, and you know that if something truly serious happened, Bay and his family would help you. Because he definitely still loves you, that kind of love never disappears completely."
Silence falls.
In a way he’s right. But that’s what makes it doubly tragic. I didn’t just lose a boyfriend, I lost someone truly wonderful and unique, someone who even after leaving still gives me a safety net. Which is not something Jared can say about his situation.
He has nobody except me, which isn’t much, since I’m like a ghost most of the time.
I press my lips together and lower my head, tears rising.
Jared sighs. The brief moment of openness he had shown is closing again; I messed it up.
"Anyway, like I said, I’m not stupid. I know this isn’t forever; this isn’t ideal. I don’t want this life, but if I have to fuck a few rich old pricks to get some gigs, I will. I also know there are even worse paths. I’ve made up my mind, Alex."
I stay silent, tears sliding down my cheeks, crushed by his decision, hit twice over.
Jared steps toward me. His slim hand brushes my arm gently, and there is a softness in his voice as he says, "I’m sorry you were attacked. I only brought you trouble. I’ll do what you asked," he says, pain in his voice. "I’ll wait until the end of the year. I’ll try to graduate."
This at least pulls me out of that heaviness a bit. "Thank you for that, I really appreciate it," I whisper, stepping toward him again, hugging him one more time, which always feels strange. I never touch people.
We stand like that for a moment. He seems uncomfortable about it too. We probably look ridiculous, he is much taller than me. Jared has grown to almost six feet, which makes him unusually tall for an omega, and he is gifted with this almost striking beauty.
I can’t really blame him for wanting to capitalize on it, but on the other hand, I know that beauty like his can attract bad people, the worst kinds. I want to protect him from that, but do I even know how to protect myself from bad things?
As today proved, it is not so easy.
???
The attack didn’t just pass and leave nothing behind. In a surge of paranoia, I decide to replace the doors with something much heavier, break-in-resistant, solidly reinforced with metal bolts. I install roll-down security shutters.
The next few weeks pass in a state of constant rumination about that incident, a restless whirl of thoughts circling in my head from morning until night, and part of me is afraid the Tanners will come back for revenge, while another part keeps scolding myself for not reporting what happened to campus security. Another mistake!
Slowly, I convince myself, forcing some reasoning into my head, that they probably won’t show up again so soon, because one of them most likely had a broken arm. My mysterious defender, aka stalker, must have scared the hell out of them.
Even so, I still stay extremely cautious. After every class, I try to join a group of students, and sometimes that means taking a much longer route, but it helps me avoid the more dangerous areas around campus.
A kind of second-stage paranoia gradually starts to creep in. I look around wherever I go, jumpy and tense, and sometimes I even feel uneasy inside the building when I have to navigate through the empty hallways. I’m like a walking ball of nerves, this giant, wound-up bundle of anxiety. I barely talk to anyone and focus only on my studies.
Dereck sometimes asks in this shy, hesitant way if everything is okay, if he can help somehow, but I always give vague answers.
A few weeks after that incident, something unexpected happens.
One of the professors is giving a guest lecture at a neighboring college and asks me to come along to help with the projector since his assistant is sick.
I agree, because of course I need to keep earning positive points with the faculty.
When we return, the professor keeps talking endlessly about things I don’t care about, and then he drops me off at the farthest teachers’ parking lot, saying he has to go back to the mainbuilding to handle a few things. Unfortunately, it’s already past seven and getting dark.
There isn’t a soul around, so I look around nervously, and I have no choice but to push through that dense patch of park again before I reach my little side street off the campus.
As I walk through, I notice a group of people standing there, but they aren’t the Tanners. They’re some tipsy students, mostly alphas.
They’re smoking and drinking beer hidden in paper bags.
Unluckily, I’m already too close to turn back without looking like some weirdo fleeing the scene and drawing even more attention to myself, so as I walk by, one of the students turns toward me and says,
"Hey, aren’t you Alex Strada?"
