We’d been best friends since high school—five of us, inseparable. Now in college, not much had changed, except maybe how protective they’d gotten.

They treated me like I was delicate. Not weak—just… precious. Especially Jon and Teddy. Always standing in front of me when things got tense, always carrying my stuff without asking, always watching over me like I might break.

I wasn’t soft. I was a jock like them—strong, athletic, built. But I was smaller, my frame more compact, my body more curved. My face? Too pretty. Too feminine. And my ass? Big enough that it practically had its own orbit.

They didn’t realize what they were doing half the time. But the dynamic was clear: I was the one they protected, cared for, hovered around like a pack of over-muscled, sweet-tempered golden retrievers in varsity jackets. They hovered. They touched. They got jealous. They watched people watching me, like they were seconds from throwing punches.

It wasn’t intentional. It was instinct.And God, it was hot.

They didn’t realize what they were doing, didn’t see how they moved around me like a pack of alpha males guarding their omega. But I saw it. I felt it. I loved it.

Jon was the quiet leader—tall, green-eyed, with long black hair and lips made to kiss. His stare always lingered a little too long.

Teddy was the golden boy—blond, dimpled, with arms like tree trunks and eyes like the damn sky. He was all warmth, always pulling me into his hoodie or letting me lean on him when I was tired.

Axel was cocky and hot as hell,Colombian, with olive skin, green eyes, and a mouth that looked good smirking. He touched my back a lot. Said it was habit. It wasn’t.

Hyo-un: The quietest and most dangerous. Six feet of silent, simmering strength. Korean. Muscles on muscles, always working out, always watching. His face was angelic—clear skin, soft features.