I nod, surprised he knows my schedule.
“Me too.” He gestures ahead. “Walk with me?”
It’s not really a question, but I find myself falling into step beside him anyway. We walk in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. His presence feels strangely right, like we’ve done this a hundred times before.
Students part for us in the hallway, or rather, they part for him. Bolton moves with easy confidence, shoulders relaxed, head high. I catch the curious glances, the whispered comments,the newgirl walking with Bolton Sharpe.I can almost hear the rumor mill grinding into action.
“Why are you being nice to me?” I finally ask when we’re almost at the classroom.
He looks down at me. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because people like you don’t usually notice people like me.”
A hint of a smile touches his lips. “Maybe I’m notpeople like me.”
Before I can respond, the bell rings, and we’re swept into the classroom with the rest of the class. I take my usual seat by the window, and Bolton slides into the desk behind me. I can feel his presence like a warm shadow.
Ms. Peterson starts talking aboutThe GreatGatsby, but I can barely focus. All I can think about is the way Bolton’s eyes tracked me across the cafeteria last week, how he chose to sit next to me in Bio even when other seats were available, how something electric seems to spark in the air whenever we’re close.
The full moon is tomorrow night. I heard some kids talking about a bonfire to celebrate, though I don’t understand why a lunar phase deserves a party. But that’s Stone Mountain for you, strange traditions, strange people. A strange connection I feel to a boy I barely know.
I glance out the window at the mountains looming in the distance, their peaks disappearing into low-hanging clouds. Something about this place calls to me, tugging at something deep in my chest. Like I’ve been searching for it without knowing.
I turn my attention back to my notebook, trying to focus on Fitzgerald and green lights and the American Dream. But Bolton’s presence behind me is distracting, his energy palpable even though he hasn’t made a sound.
Rule #8: When a boy makes you feel things without even touching you, keep your distance.
Chapter 2
Bolton
The moment I saw her, everything changed. My wolf recognized her immediately. It’s a truth I’ve been trying to deny, but I can’t. Maya Ortiz. Human. Off-limits. And all I can do is think about her.
I sit in European History class, one row over and two seats behind her. I'm close enough to catch her scent, a mix of vanilla and something unexpected, sharp and earthy, like the air before a summer storm. Still, I stay far enough away to pretend I'm not watching her every move. She's doodling in her notebook again, tucking a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear, completely unaware of how that simple gesture makes my wolf pace restlessly inside me.
Stop staring, Sharpe.I force my eyes to the whiteboard, where Mr. Davis drones on about the French Revolution. But seconds later, my gaze drifts back to her.
Two weeks. Two weeks since she arrived at Stone Mountain High, and I've been fighting this pull every damn day. I know what it means—what it could mean—but I refuse to accept it. She's human. I'm not. End of story.
"Dude, could you be any more obvious?" Dax leans in with a smirk that begs for a fist to the face. As my best friend and fellow pack member, he thinks this whole situation is hilarious. "Just ask her out already."
"Shut up," I mutter, glaring at him.
"Mr. Sharpe, Mr. Wilson," Mr. Davis calls out, his bushy eyebrows drawn together. "Is there something you'd like to share with the class?"
"No, sir," we both answer in unison.
Maya turns slightly at the commotion, and for a heartbeat, our eyes lock. Those deep brown eyes widen just a fraction before she quickly turns back around. My wolf surges forward, begging to be closer to her, and I grip the edge of my desk until my knuckles turn white.
When class finally ends, I hang back, letting her leave first. It's my routine now, keeping my distance while fighting every instinct to follow her, to claim her. As the next Alpha of the Stone Mountain Pack, I have responsibilities and traditions to uphold. Getting involved with a human isn't one of them.
"You can't avoid her forever," Dax says as we walk to our lockers. "Especially not with the full moon tomorrow night."
I slam my locker shut harder than necessary. "I'm not avoiding her."
Dax rolls his eyes. "Right. And I'm not a wolf shifter."
"She doesn't know what we are," I remind him, though I'm really reminding myself. "And it needs to stay that way."
