Page 25 of Incompatible

He keeps close to the wall, head lowered, heading straight to his seat. He doesn’t look at me. He probably sees Zion and Kaen standing next to me, flaunting their feathers like colorful parrots.

Why do I feel so damn stupid? We’re not even friends. We met yesterday and exchanged a few words. What’s wrong with me? Should I focus on this kid so much?

Mr. Keller, the teacher, walks in.

When class starts, I glance at Alex cautiously.

He sits with his head down, his small fingers clutching the inhaler pressed to his chest. He stares at his tablet.

He doesn’t turn his head, even though I’m sure he feels my eyes on him.

Finally, I can’t stand it. I pull out a notebook, tear out a sheet, and write one line:

"Are you okay?"

When Mr. Keller turns around, I quickly place the note on Alex’s desk.

He hesitates, glances at it, but doesn’t reply, doesn’t touch it.

I write another one.

"Will you have lunch with me today?"

Alex stares at the note for a moment, then writes something on it and turns it toward me. I glance at it and see:

"I don’t want to tag along as your fourth wheel with Kaen and Zion."

Frowning, I quickly write a new one and slip it onto his desk when Mr. Keller isn’t looking.

"I never asked for their company. I’d rather have lunch with you. They swooped in first."

Only then does Alex lift his face for a moment, and his beautiful eyes meet mine. A shiver runs through me, like someone has touched me with a magic wand.

But then he lowers his gaze again and writes something else.

"No wonder."

"I don’t understand."

"Really? You’re such a beautiful alpha. The hottest one in the class, maybe in the whole school."

I freeze as I read it, staring at the words, and everything in me screams that this iswrong. My nerves tremble like stretched strings, vibrating, ready to snap and turn me into a broken bowstring.

The last person who ever called me a ‘beautiful alpha’ hurt me horribly. I don’t want those words; I hate those words. They carry pain.

I write back, my hand slightly shaking.

"Don’t ever call me that. I’m not. And I didn’t invite Kaen and Zion. I’m inviting you."

Alex’s eyes meet mine again. He studies me for a moment, like he’s trying to read my state of mind, my resistance, to understand the storm cloud hovering around me.

Then he nods slightly. I give him a smile, though my smiles have stopped being real. They’ve become social tools, masks of paper I wear to function.

The next class is Algebra, so we split up. Zion and Kaen come up to me and start a conversation, but I make sure to answer only briefly.

Next is English, and after that, lunch.

I cleverly get up first and leave the classroom as if I’m going to the bathroom. Then I head toward the cafeteria.