Chapter 4 — Forced Partners
The next morning, Lawrence tried to keep his head down, to navigate the halls without attracting more attention. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
In the first period, the teacher announced a new group assignment. The students groaned, the alphas grinned, and then came the inevitable.
"Partners will be assigned," the teacher said. "And—Lawrence Peterson, you'll be working with George Mathews."
The room froze.
Lawrence's heart stopped. He could barely breathe. George Mathews. His… shadow. The top alpha who had been following him with those impossible eyes.
George didn't flinch. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and gave Lawrence a look that was part irritation, part… curiosity?
"Great," Lawrence whispered, voice barely audible. "Just great."
George's lips quirked, almost imperceptibly. "Don't slow me down," he murmured.
Lawrence flushed, fumbling to gather his books. "I—I won't!"
The teacher paired them officially, and suddenly, they were sitting together at a long table, face-to-face. Every small movement felt amplified—the way George leaned forward to write a note, the way his scent brushed faintly in Lawrence's direction. Lawrence could feel the tension coiling in his stomach, a mix of fear, desire, and something unnameable.
"So," George said finally, voice low, almost bored, "try not to ruin this."
Lawrence blinked, unsure if it was a warning or a challenge. "I… I won't," he said again.
The hours passed slowly, painfully. Every glance, every accidental brush of their hands as they reached for books, sent sparks Lawrence could barely understand. George didn't speak much, but every word he did say seemed to carry weight, like it was meant to press into Lawrence and mark him somehow.
During a quiet moment, Lawrence caught George staring at him. His expression was unreadable, and Lawrence felt an odd mixture of fear and heat.
"I…" Lawrence started, then stopped. He wasn't sure what he had meant to say. Words felt small and inadequate here.
George leaned slightly closer, just enough that Lawrence could feel the faint warmth radiating off him. "Say it," he murmured, not as a question, but almost as a command.
Lawrence's cheeks burned. "I… I'm trying," he admitted softly.
George's gaze held him, unwavering, and Lawrence felt like he could drown in it. Every instinct screamed at him, but fear and caution kept him pinned to the chair.
By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of class, both were aware of something shifting between them. Something electric, unspoken, and dangerous.
As they packed up, George's hand brushed against Lawrence's again. This time, he didn't pull away immediately. He let the touch linger for a heartbeat, just long enough to make Lawrence's heart skip. Then, as if nothing had happened, he straightened and walked out.
Lawrence stayed behind, trembling. His fingers tingled from the brief contact. His mind spun with confusion.
Why does he do this to me?
Why do I want him to do it again?
He didn't have an answer. But deep down, Lawrence knew one thing:
This partnership wasn't going to be just about a school assignment.
It was the beginning of something he couldn't run from.