Alpha on Campus: His Reluctant Mate

Cassia's POV.

I was five seconds away from stabbing someone with a pencil.

“Miss Vale,” Professor Lin drawled, tapping her tablet as it offended her. “Care to explain why your project file is corrupted and won’t open?”

Because life hates me?

Because my laptop decided to die last night in a blaze of betrayal?

“I-I submitted it last night,” I stammered. “I have the backup on my drive....”

The class was already snickering. Of course. Another day, another reason to mock the scholarship girl who didn’t belong at Sterling College.

Before I could plug in the drive, the fire alarm shrieked through the lecture hall.

Perfect.

People shot up like startled birds. I grabbed my bag and followed the herd outside. The scent of smoke filled the air. Luckily it was faint.

And that’s when I ran into him, literally. Solid chest. Leather jacket. And an obvious smirk, like he owned the damn sky.

Zayn Holloway.

The guy who kissed girls was like he was signing autographs. He was rich, dangerous, and completely insufferable.

“Whoa, easy there, firecracker,” he said, steadying me.

“Shit! I am fine.” I jerked away. I had a heavy dislike of people like him.

His grin widened. “Didn’t say you weren’t. Just didn’t want to see your face plant onto the pavement. Would’ve ruined your whole mysterious loner vibe.”

“I don’t have a loner vibe.”

He leaned in, his green eyes gleaming like he could see straight through me. “Keep telling yourself that.”

I resisted the urge to chuck my bag at his smug, stupidly symmetrical face.

I turned away, but, of course, he followed me like an entitled shadow. “You’re bleeding,” he said.

I paused, glancing down. My palm had scraped against the brick wall in the chaos. A small streak of red glistened across my skin. Fantastic. Just what I needed, another reason to be weak and pathetic in front of Mr. Leather-and-Attitude.

“Again, I am fine.”

“You keep saying that. But I’m starting to think you don’t know what that word means.”

“Shouldn’t you be signing off someone’s bra or crashing a yacht or whatever you spoiled rich kids do for fun?”

He laughed. And not the fake, shallow kind either. The real kind that wrapped around your spine and made it harder to stay annoyed.

“I’m starting to think you’ve memorized my biography, Vale.”

“It's Cassia, Holloway. And I am starting to think that you’re allergic to shutting up.”

He offered me a fancy embroidered napkin from his pocket. Who even carries napkins like these around? Rich people, apparently. I took it with a muttered thanks and wiped my hand.

The fire trucks pulled up in the distance, the chaos slowly untangling. Students gathered in clusters, gossiping already. And I stood there, bleeding and bantering with the guy whose orbit I’d sworn never to enter.

But something about the way his gaze lingered on me was unsettling, like I was more than just another girl passing through. I didn't know why. But I couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching me.

•••••

They had said my outfit looked like a nuclear weapon. Their ridicule was baseless. I was an independent woman, paying my own bills. I was dressing for comfort, and not to please.

"If you tweaked the pants a little, it could look vintage." Her laugh was mocking, and the rest of her basketball squad stood behind her.

Aurela was the athletic queen bee. She was nice to those whom she respected, and to those whom she didn't. She was treated like cheap thrift.

Her steel balls were aided by the fact that she was part of Zayn's harem. Rumours said he never slept with her at the same time twice, no matter how good she was. But for some reason, Aurela was often, and to her, it was some sort of flex.

"I have a shift awaiting me Aurela, I have zero time for your bullshit."

"Such a workaholic. Little wonder you're such a bore, Vale."

I took a deep breath.

"It's Cassia. Secondly, some of us need to work hard to get the things we need. It's not like we were all born with golden spoon privilege."

She arched her brow. “It’s giving bitterness, babe. Not a good look.”

“It’s giving delusion,” I snapped. “Now move, unless you want me to accidentally spill my minimum wage all over your overpriced sneakers.”

A few people chuckled behind us, but Aurela’s smirk didn’t falter. She stepped aside with mock grace, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. “Run along, peasant. Don’t be late to whatever dungeon they’re working you in today.”

I walked away without looking back. Not because she didn’t deserve a middle finger, but because the second I gave her a reaction, she’d win. And I was tired of losing.

The halls thinned as I made my way to the back exit. I didn’t expect anyone to follow, so when I heard footsteps trailing me, I nearly swung around ready to throw hands.

Zayn.

“You,” I hissed, pressing a hand to his chest to shove him back. “Do you just appear everywhere I go now?”

“You’re starting to sound like you mind it,” he said.

“I do.”

“Your sarcasm says otherwise.”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic.”

He tilted his head, expression unreadable. “No?”

Before I could snap back, someone turned the corner behind me. I moved to step aside, my foot caught on the uneven tile. I fell forward. Again.

Zayn caught me. Again.

I landed square against him, palms flat on his chest, his arms looping around my waist like they belonged there. My heart stuttered in betrayal. I meant to pull back, but his hold tightened for a fraction too long.

“Seriously?” I growled. “You going to let go or do I have to start kicking?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Don’t.”

But then he did something I didn’t expect. He leaned in, like he was being led by something, close enough that I felt the brush of his breath against my skin, and buried his nose in the crook of my neck.

I froze.

The hall blurred. My next breath came shallow, snagging on something tight and unseen.

And then, like he was stating the weather, he murmured against my skin,

“Mate.”

Cassia’s POV.

“Unhand me, you ruffian,” I snapped, wrenching myself out of his grip with all the flair of a Victorian heroine and none of the poise. I wasn't exactly ladylike in attitude. I had too much on my plate. Deal with it.

Zayn on the other hand didn’t move. He just stood there like someone had hit pause on his entire existence.

What did he mean by mate?

We weren’t even friends. I was the snarky background character in his tabloid-worthy life, and he was the walking distraction I actively avoided.

“Cassie....” he murmured, eyes locked on mine like they saw something that wasn’t there a minute ago. Like I’d grown horns. Or wings. Or both.

“Holloway, Holloway....” I muttered under my breath, waving a hand in front of his face. “Is this a rich boy glitch? Did your internal Wi-Fi disconnect or something?”

Still nothing.

I frowned. “You’re creeping me out.”

He blinked, finally, and ran a hand through his dark hair like he was trying to wake himself up. “You of all people?” He questioned.

“Okay, cryptic much?” I folded my arms. “Spill it or I’m leaving.”

His jaw clenched. “Didn't you feel it?.”

“I felt you nearly nose-diving into my neck like a damn vampire. Back off, Dracula.”

He stepped forward. I stepped back.

“You don’t know what this means,”

“Enlighten me then,” I deadpanned. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like your brain just short-circuited mid-flirt.”

His eyes flared, a thousand emotions flickering behind them.

He closed the distance again, slower this time, more careful. “You’re my soulmate.”

I almost doubled over in laughter.

I knew he had lines and rizz he used to flatter women, but I expected it to be more creative.

“Great,” I said. “Does that come with a return policy? Because I didn’t sign up for it.”

He actually smiled, a little crooked, a little dazed. “You don’t get to choose the bond, Cassia. It chooses you.”

I stared at him. Then down at the now-wrinkled napkin in my hand. Then back at him. Wondering if this was some kinky shit he was into. What was he even talking about....

I stared hard, waiting for the punchline. Or the camera crew. Maybe this was a tease-a-weez prank. .

“Okay,” I said slowly, “are you having a stroke? Do I need to call someone? Blink twice if you smell toast. Or your brain cells in flames."

Zayn didn’t blink.

Instead, he took another step forward. “I didn’t believe in it either,” he said, tone disturbingly sincere. “Soul bonds. Mating. All of it. Thought it was just some archaic crap my father believed in. Until you.”

My feet suddenly felt like concrete blocks. “Okay, stop right there, Twilight.”

He smirked. “Technically, it’s more ancient lore than sparkly vampires.”

I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my own past trauma. “Oh good, you’re delusional and nerdy.”

His expression darkened slightly. “I’m serious. When I touched you, something happened. I felt it.”

“All I felt was a minor cardiac episode from your cologne trying to strangle me.”

Zayn ran his tongue over his teeth and exhaled, like he was trying not to argue with a toddler. “Cassia, I’m not flirting. I’m not playing. This isn’t some game I’m using to get into your pants.”

I raised a brow. “So the bar has risen since last semester?”

That earned the ghost of a grin. But then he stepped even closer, and this time, I didn’t move. Not because I trusted him. I just wanted to hear the rest of the crazy fall out of his mouth.

“I don’t know how or why it’s you,” he said, softer now. “But the bond doesn’t lie. And I’m not going anywhere until I figure out what this means.”

“You do realize how stalker-y that sounds, right?”

“I can’t explain it,” he admitted. “I just know my instincts are screaming not to let you walk away.”

My mouth parted to deliver another sharp retort......but nothing came out.

So instead, I shoved the napkin back into his chest and said, “You’ve got ninety-nine problems, Holloway, and I’m not gonna be one of them.”

And then I turned and walked away. But not that fast. Not so fast that I missed him whispering behind me,

“It's a little too late. Vale."

_____

Classes were weird after that. People who saw me and Zayn in the hall would put their eyes down or sometimes hold my stare for a little longer than necessary.

I didn't hate Zayn...I just hated the things he embodied. I'm sure you can already guess, the flashy lifestyle, the assy playboy persona who probably had a body count higher than his GPA. And did I mention that he hopped from one woman to another at the speed of light?

So it was very confusing for the crowd as people started to refer to me as Zayn's better half. Even Aurela met my gaze with a disappointed expression.

What the hell was happening?

Okay, weird.

I hesitated, then walked up to her as she leaned against a locker, her arms crossed, surrounded by her basketball clique like usual. “Aurela?”

She turned sharply, her eyes red, like she had been crying. And then, just like that, she shoved past me. Hard.

“Aurela!” I called, stunned, watching her storm down the hallway.

She didn’t stop.

Still reeling, I headed down the steps of the west wing just in time to see Zayn and someone else standing by the vending machines.

Zayn’s best friend, I had seen him around with Zayn often. Sagar. Ash-colored hair, brown eyes, permanent poker face unless he was mid-prank.

Zayn spotted me.

And he smiled.

Not the arrogant, smirky thing he usually did to piss me off. This smile was.....soft. Warm. Like I was a sunrise or some cheesy poetic crap.

I actually slowed down.

Because Zayn Holloway didn’t smile at me like that. He smirked. He teased me. He cornered me in the hallways with annoying remarks. But he didn’t look at me like......that.

“What now?” I muttered under my breath,

Sagar nudged him, then walked over, slipping something into my hand before I could even blink.

A folded piece of paper.

Zayn leaned against the vending machine,

Sagar cleared his throat and said, “He wrote this like five times. Just read it.”

Then he turned and left me alone, standing in the middle of the hallway.

I unfolded the note.

Meet me at the park tonight.

9 PM. It's important.

I’ll be waiting.

-Z.H.