Kiss An Alpha novel Chapter 1

Out of nowhere, I felt irritated.

It was like a bug was crawling up my neck, or there was something stuck in my tooth. Something was just...off.

"He's hot," Marcella observed rather loudly, causing me too look up at whoever she was referring to.

Standing at the doorway of the classroom was a student I'd never seen before. He was tall and had a muscular build, sun kissed skin, wavy light brown hair, and bright blue eyes that stood out against his complexion. He gave off a definite fuckboy vibe, with his adidas joggers, white t-shirt, and sneakers, which were probably some "cool" brand that I didn't know nor care enough about sports to recognize.

"Alright class," my art teacher, who's name I still couldn't remember despite having been in her class for a month now, addressed the new kid with a wave of her hand. "This is your new classmate. His name is...er, remind me what your name is, sweetheart?"

"Mason," said the new guy, and as if on cue a collection of murmurs-mostly female-went up in the class of forty, now forty-one.

"Right, Mason," the art teacher said. "I'm Mrs Garroway-" that's it "-I'll be your art teacher this year. Go ahead and take a seat wherever you'd like. Anyways," she turned back to the rest of the class and started blabbering about whatever we'd be doing that day, at which point I tuned out.

I grabbed my charcoal pencil and resumed whatever it was I'd been doing in my sketchbook. The good thing about this class was, I didn't have to try to hard to pass. I was naturally artistic, and had been all my life. Even if the work I turned in had absolutely nothing to do with Mrs Garrison or Garret or whatever's instructions-which it usually didn't because I never listened to her instructions-she still gave me a hundred, sometimes more, and praised my work as if it were a masterpiece.

I sketched line after line, not really paying attention to what I was drawing. I just let my hand take over, swapping my pencil for one of a different thickness or intensity whenever I saw fit. It wasn't until halfway through the class that I looked up again at Marcella calling my name.

"What?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. Marcella gave me a scolding look, as if I'd done something indecent.

"It's been half the period and you still haven't said hello to our new table-mate," she scolded. That was when I realized that, sitting on the other side of the table next to a kid who's name I couldn't remember, was the new student, who's name I also had forgotten. I wasn't the best with names; I honestly just didn't care enough to remember them.

"Hello," I said boredly, hardly sparing him a glance. I turned my attention back to my sketchbook and rolled my eyes when Cella snatched my pencil from my hand. Just to annoy her, I grabbed a different one, and started shading. I chuckled under my breath at Cella's frustrated groan. The laugh quickly turned into a yelp, though, when she grabbed my pencil again and used it to poke me hard in the back of my hand.

I looked back up to appease her and get her to leave me alone. "What?"

"Introduce yourself!" Marcella demanded, indicating across the table toward...Marcus? Max?

"You were calling my name for, like, a minute," I said dryly. "If he hasn't caught it by now, it's a lost cause."

"I can tell," Mason mused, causing me to turn my glare on him.

"Excuse me?" I growled. Something about this Mason guy was definitely off, and whatever it was, it made me have an instant resentment for him, even if that wasn't entirely fair.

"Did I stutter?"

I had a feeling that whatever it was that was bothering me, Mason felt too. He had a challenge in his eyes, one that said he wasn't any bigger a fan of me than I was of him, and he wasn't about to back down. There was something obnoxiously confident about the look he was giving me, as if he took a regular man's ego and multiplied it by twenty. It was so strong, the kid sitting next to him squirmed uncomfortably.

I could feel anxiety radiating off of Marcella, too. Neither Mason nor I said anything, but I knew he was trying to stare me down. He'd have to try harder, though.

I leaned back casually in my seat, never breaking contact with his blue eyes. We must've looked like exact opposites; he had tanned skin, I was very pale. His eyes were light blue, mine were dark brown. His hair was longer at the top, where it fell in light brown waves over his forehead, whereas mine was straight, black, and perfectly-if I do say so myself (which I do)-quiffed. His posture was stiff as he glared at me, shoulders tense, jaw set, eyes challenging. I didn't have to see myself to know that I looked more laid back, leaning into my chair and smirking slightly at just how easy it was to rile him up.

"I swear this is like a scene from twilight," the two of us simultaneously broke eye contact as we both turned towards Marcella. "Kieran, you're Edward, and Mason, you're totally Jacob."