DISCONTINUED AND MARKED AS COMPLETE.
"You just wanted to play with my heart, was that it?" Jasmine asked. Every bit of her emotions leaked through her words. I could hear the anger, the hurt, and, most of all, the disappointment. I stepped back put...
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Since that afternoon with Jasmine, I replayed it like some love-struck fool hit with Cupid's bow. Her giving me the bandana and staying by my side until she knew I was better; set my chest on fire. She invaded my every thought and crept into my heart. I fucking hated how she felt like the one who created my every thought and feeling. I longed to be in her presence again. But was it really me who wanted that or Imani?
So I followed her. Not on some stalker-type shit. I had to know if she was okay every second. While following Jasmine, I learned a few things about her. She is part of the art department that branched into the photography department. That put us relatively close together since my branch of study was in visual arts since I minored in art: sculpture. I kept the new bandana I bought her in my bag waiting for the right chance to give it to her, but there was never a chance. Either I chickened out or her friend was constantly with her. Even when she came to the gym to do her photography assignment, she never came close to me. She always stayed with Maribel. And I always watched Jasmine. I hoped she was looking my way and when she wasn't; I was disappointed.
She plays it cool and pretends I wasn't standing by the gym doors when she strolls by with her friend, in laughter over some dad joke she told her.
"You gotta talk to her, Dom," Treyvon said, walking up to me and wiping his face with a towel.
"I don't gotta do shit."
Treyvon puts me in a headlock. He stinks of sweat and I gag. "She's your mate."
"I don't give a damn. She isn't. She will never be."
Deny. Deny. Deny. Was all I could do. Because denying was easy and the not-so-easy part wasn't ignoring Imani's emotions.
By noon we were in a lecture. I wasn't paying attention. I scribbled Jasmine's name in a purple ink pen in my notebook and drew hearts around her name like some middle schooler with their first crush. Shit. I ripped the paper out of my notebook and shoved it into my bag. Treyvon was next to me in his seat, head down sleeping soundly. He always did this after the gym. It was good that we sat in the back so our professor couldn't see. At the end of class, I woke up Treyvon. He drooled over his papers. Sleepy-eyed, he stuffed everything into his bag.
"How's Imani?" Treyvon asked, yawning as he stretched, his yellow Nike jacket rising above his navel just a bit.
"She is okay."
"Just okay?"
"Treyvon."
The beta's job is to ensure that the alpha is functioning properly. You haven't shifted in days. I'm worried. Damian is worried too."
Damian is Treyvon's wolf. Gray in color with stormy gray eyes to match. But of course, he would notice I hadn't shifted in days. With Imani behind a wall, we weren't connected mentally. This was different from me leaving the pack. My wolf is emotional about a mate. We stepped out into the hall, my hand firmly gripping my bag strap. "I just need time."
