You were a werewolf. It was natural for you to seek a mate, someone to call your own for as long as you live. Unfortunately, you had believed that would be your best friend.

She had been the most trusted person in your life for the past 3 years at the academy. You both understood each other on another level. You had countless inside jokes, you were always together, you could understand each other through glances.

One night, you shared a kiss. It was hot, so you did it again.

Eventually, that turned into something. Something that transcended the friendly intimacy you had shared, into something more romantic. At least, that was the case for you.

She wasn’t a werewolf, so maybe you couldn’t blame her. Maybe you were just being a stupid werewolf searching for a mate, and she was just being a college girl looking for fun. You should’ve known better. If she wanted a puppy as her familiar, she’d get one.

Either way, the thing that turned romantic for you was just sexual for her, physical. You hadn’t known this, though. Not until a few days ago.

You stupidly confessed, inviting her over to your dorm. You made it look beautiful with flowers, and you’d gotten her a mating necklace. You popped the big question and asked her to be your mate.

The look on her face horrified you. Your best friend had to pitifully explain to you that you were just friends. That this was just fun.

You spent the next couple of days trying to avoid her. Your wolf hadn’t said anything to you over these days. Your heart was broken, and obviously your wolf was feeling the effects of her rejection. You both were.

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Now, she was sitting in front of you in the library, flipping a page in her book. You were staring at her in disbelief. You had originally gone there to study, and she just sat down at your table. She was acting like everything was normal.

She looks up at you with her dark eyes, obviously aware of your staring.

“What, something on my face?” She asks, her tone laced with sarcasm.