Page 15 of My Freshman Mate
Wes just cocks an eyebrow, unperturbed. "Just saving time."
The door swings open, and the faint smell of new textbooks and highlighter ink hits me. My half of the room is exactly as I left it yesterday morning—pens lined up by color, sticky notes in perfect stacks, not a single paper out of place. My laminated five-year plan is still taped to the wall above my desk. My planner is still open to this week's schedule, every hour accounted for.
It's weird—like I'm looking at someone else's life. A life that vanished the moment I crashed into Wes Chambers on the quad.
I step inside, my breath hitches. The panic I've been fighting all morning finally hits me full force.
"Oh God," I whisper, picking up my planner with trembling hands. My whole body shakes. "This is really happening. I'm really doing this. Moving in with you. After one day. This is—this is insane."
I back away from the desk, away from the evidence of my old life, until my shoulders hit the wall. I clutch the planner to my chest so hard my knuckles go white.
"This isn't me," I choke out, my eyes darting around the room, from the color-coded bookshelf to the neat stack of syllabi on the desk. "I don't do spontaneous. I don't throw away my plans for—for—"
He closes the door behind us, his voice surprisingly gentle. "For what?"
"For feelings!" I burst out, whirling to face him. "For instincts! For this—this biological imperative that's hijacked my brain! What about my classes? What about my pre-med track? What about my parents? They're going to absolutely lose it when theyfind out I've moved in with an alpha I just met. They're betas, Wes. They don't understand this stuff. They sent me here to focus on my education, not to get—to get—"
"Claimed?" he supplies, one eyebrow raised.
"Yes!" I'm practically shouting now, my carefully constructed composure fracturing into a million pieces. "I had a plan! A good plan! A plan that made sense! And now I'm just supposed to throw it all away because my omega biology decided you're the one?"
I take a step back from him, putting distance between us for the first time since we met. A real, instinctual need torunflashes through me. My heart is a frantic drum against my ribs. What the hell am I doing? This is a stranger. A huge, possessive alpha stranger who has completely taken over my life.
Wes just stands there, arms crossed, watching me lose it. His face gives nothing away, but his eyes never leave mine. When I finally run out of steam, my chest heaving with emotion, he takes a slow step toward me.
"Your plans don't have to change," he says simply. "Just add me to them."
I blink, thrown off by the sheer simplicity of his statement. "What?"
"Your plans," he repeats, gesturing to the laminated schedule on the wall. "Keep them. Go to your classes. Study your ass off. Get into med school. Be a doctor. Nothing has to change." He moves closer, until I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "Just add me to the equation. Sleep in my bed instead of this one. Come home to me instead of this room. Let me be there while you chase your dreams."
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. It's so… reasonable. So obvious. So not what I was expecting.
My voice comes out small. "You'd be okay with that? With me focusing on school?"
Something flickers in his eyes—amusement, maybe. "Braiden, I'm a football player on a full scholarship. I have practice every day and games most weekends. Did you think I was going to demand you sit at home and wait for me?"
Put that way, it does sound ridiculous. "I don't know what I thought," I admit, the panic finally starting to recede. "I just… this is all happening so fast."
"Yeah," he agrees, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. He does it like he's done it a thousand times before, and my heart skips. "But that doesn't make it wrong."
We start packing my things. I carefully wrap my desk calendar in a t-shirt, tucking it safely in my suitcase. My hands are steady but my mind is a mess—part of me is terrified, part of me is exhilarated, and a small, quiet part knows I'm finally doing something real instead of just following a script.
When we're done, my side of the room looks bare, as if I was never there at all. It's strange how easily my life fits into two suitcases and a backpack. How quickly I can be erased from a space.
"Ready?" Wes asks, picking up the heavier of the two suitcases like it weighs nothing.
My throat is tight, but I manage a single, sharp nod, taking one last look around. "Ready."
The walk back across campus is just as attention-grabbing as before, but this time, the suitcases make our situation even more obvious. We're not just an alpha and omega walking together—we're moving in together. The whispers follow us like a wake.
Outside the registrar's office, we run into a group of guys who are clearly part of Wes's team.
"Chambers! Where the hell have you been, man? Coach is looking for you!"
Wes guides me toward them, his hand a steady pressure on my back. "Had some personal business to take care of," he says, nodding toward the suitcases.
The tallest of the group, a dark-skinned guy with a friendly smile, looks me over. His scent is typical alpha—musk and confidence—but as his eyes land on the claiming mark on my neck, it shifts. The scent sharpens, losing its casual edge and becoming something more… wary. A primal acknowledgment.
