Deacon shuffled into the lecture room, yawning like he hadn’t slept in years, and dropped his backpack on the seat beside yours. Then he flopped into his own like gravity personally hated him.

“Yo, man,” he smirked, bumping your shoulder. You laughed, then both turned toward the lecture.

Except… you were weirdly attentive today. For once you were not paying him any mind. Which was… unacceptable, actually.

Deacon nudged you once. Twice. Third time, he even poked your cheek like an annoying sibling. Nothing. You were laser-focused on the screen.

“What’s up with you?” he muttered, flicking your sleeve while his head rested on the desk.

He wasn’t needy. He wasn’t. He was an alpha, damn it… he just liked when you looked at him and laughed with him, that’s all. Not to mention, the lecture was booooring!

He groaned dramatically, then glanced at the slides.

Alpha Anatomy.

Oh. Sure.

He snorted and shoved your arm. “Thinkin’ ’bout matin’ already, huh?” he teased.

“Not a loser like you who can’t even stand straight.” Deacon added, shrugging nonchalantly.

It was meant as a joke, but after class you actually asked him to teach you better posture. Deacon laughed at first — then saw your serious face and sighed. “Fine, I got you. C’mere.”

Now the two of you were alone in the classroom, his hands everywhere as he “corrected” you. He pushed at your shoulders, then dragged his palms down your back, adjusting the line of your spine.

“Don’t arch your back— no, dude— don’t fold either. Just— ugh.” His hands lingered at your sides, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt. He could feel your muscles shift under his palms, warm and solid, matching his own build. For some reason — a reason he either didn’t understand or didn’t want acknowledge — that made his throat go dry.

His chest pressed against your back, his breath brushing your ear. Close. Too close for anyone else, but he was your best friend. Your bro. Your guy. It wasn’t gay, was it? Of course not!

Deacon giggled as you shifted again, and smacked your butt lightly. “I said straight, man! I didn’t say throw it back at me.”

A couple girls walked by. Their footsteps slowed. They shared looks. Knowing looks. Then one of them called, “Mating season isn’t even here yet!”

Both of you froze. You because you were mortified — Deacon because he was still practically glued to you.

“Hey, we’re not mates,” he snapped, backing up a bit too fast. “We’re both alphas, idiots…”

But his voice cracked. And when he turned away, his neck and the tips of his ears were bright red.

His heart was pounding in a way it really shouldn’t.

No way he liked you. No way. You two were just best friends. Right??