They were discussions something before they turned to me.
"Hey! You the delivery guy?" one of them called out, his voice booming in the stillness. I noticed another guy next to him who looked up; he had this authoritative vibe, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. I nodded, gripping the box tightly. "Yeah, I've got a delivery for you."
As I stepped further into the room, I felt their eyes scrutinizing me. "What's in the box?" the same guy asked, leaning back in his chair as if he were sizing me up. I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. Since I had no idea, I just said, "Just some things you ordered," trying to sound casual, though I could feel the tension rising.
The men exchanged glances, and I could sense a shift in the air—an underlying current of suspicion. "Things? You don't know what it is, do you?" another man piped up, his brow furrowed. He leaned forward, his interest piqued, and I could see the way he eyed the box with a mix of wariness and curiosity.
"I'm just here to deliver," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I just need to drop it off and get going."
Before I could take another step, one of the men, who had been quiet until now, suddenly spoke up. "Wait a minute. I remember now it's the box we bought a few days ago—the supplies for the project." His face lit up with interest, breaking some of the tension in the room. Thank God someone finally said something.
Relief washed over me as I approached the table, ready to set the box down. I had almost made it when the door swung open again, and another guy walked in. He had a more laid-back demeanor, but his eyes immediately locked onto me.
"Who's this?" he asked, pointing at me with a smirk. My heart sank as I noticed his gaze fixate on the nape of my neck, specifically on the scent blocker sticker I had there. I had been so focused on making the delivery that I hadn't thought much about it.
"That's the delivery guy," the first man replied, but the new arrival wasn't satisfied. He walked closer, his grin widening as he leaned in, inspecting the sticker. "Hey, wait a second... Is that what I think it is? An Omega?"
I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment and a twinge of anxiety. Shit I forgot,about the sticker and I was really hoping I could pass for a beta. "It's just a delivery sticker," I stammered, attempting to brush off the comment, but the guy wasn't having it.
"Oh, come on! Don't be shy," he teased, clearly enjoying the chance to poke fun. "You know what being an Omega means, right? You're in the presence of Alphas here." He gestured around the room, his voice dripping with mockery.
I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. "Look, I'm just here to deliver this box. Can we just... get this over with?" My voice was firmer now, but I could see the amusement flickering in their eyes.
"Chill, man," the first guy said, though he couldn't hide the smirk on his face. "We're just messing with you." He looked at my uniform before speaking again, "But if you're obedient, I could show you a good time." I could smell burnt bagels, the scent almost suffocating me.
"Put away your pheromones," I heard a deep voice say. Looking up, I noticed it was the guy from the library who spoke. I felt relieved as the pheromones stopped surrounding me.
I set the box down on the table with a thud, grateful for the distraction. "Here you go," I said, stepping back. "I'll just be on my way now."
But the teasing didn't stop. "What's the rush? You're here now; why not stay and chat?" The guy who had first questioned me leaned back, crossing his arms with a mischievous glint in his eye.
"I really can't," I replied, glancing at the door, mentally calculating my exit. Then I felt a hand push me down, ripping the sticker off me fast.
"Mine."
"Mine."
"Mine."
Unable to register what was being said, I could smell my pheromones coming out of the nape of my neck. Struggling against the guy who held me down, I felt three different pheromones piercing through the air. I froze, feeling my body gradually heat up.
The man holding me fell down. I watched him struggling to breathe. Raising my leg, I kicked his stomach before looking up and seeing three intense gazes. Struggling for a few seconds, I rushed out of there and kept running until I made it back to my dorm room, my heart racing and my mind spinning.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the classroom windows as I sat at my desk, but it did little to brighten my mood. My mind was still reeling from the events of the previous day—the guys and the unwanted attention I had received. I tried to focus on the lesson, but my thoughts kept drifting back to that moment in the room, where I felt cornered and exposed.
I could feel the agitation bubbling inside me, like a pot of water slowly coming to a boil. Every time I heard someone mutter "Omega" in the hallway, my heart raced, and I instinctively glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting to see them coming my way. I hated feeling this way, like I was on edge, constantly waiting for something to happen. It made it hard to concentrate on anything else. I knew I was being paranoid, but after what happened, it felt impossible to shake off.
"Hey, you okay?" Andy whispered, breaking me out of my thoughts. I looked over at him and forced a smile. "Yeah, just tired," I replied, but even I could hear the strain in my voice.
As the day wore on, the weight of my anxiety pressed down on me. In history class, I barely registered the teacher's voice as he droned on about ancient civilizations. My mind was too busy replaying the scenario from yesterday. I wanted to shake off the feeling and focus on my studies, but it lingered like a shadow.
During lunch, I sat with Andy. I knew he was worried; his expression said it all, but I ignored it and kept quiet. Getting the hint, he spoke as if nothing was wrong, but his words felt distant and muffled. I picked at my food, not really hungry, my thoughts still swirling. "You seem off today," Andy noted, his brow furrowing with concern. "Is everything alright?" This was the second time he was asking.
"Yeah. Like I said, I'm fine," I snapped a little too sharply.
"Just a lot on my mind," I admitted, trying to keep it vague. I didn't want to dive into the details of what had happened.
"Wanna talk about it?" he offered, his tone gentle. I shrugged, not sure how to voice the jumble of emotions inside me. Instead, I changed the subject, asking him about a project we had due next week.
As the afternoon wore on, I found a small sense of calm starting to settle in. The more I engaged with Andy and a few teachers, the more I felt the tension in my chest loosening. I joined in on their laughter and shared some inside jokes about assignments. For a moment, I could forget about the previous day's chaos.
By the time the final bell rang, my agitation had faded into something more manageable. As I headed back to the dorm, a wave of frustration washed over me. I felt helpless about what happened and angry that I couldn't do more.
Sure, I was still aware of what had happened, but it no longer felt like a weight pressing down on me. I walked out of school, the cool air hitting my face, and took a deep breath, feeling lighter.