PART FIVE

ALEJANDRO’S POV

I couldn’t believe I was doing this.

Like seriously—me, Alejandro Castillo, sitting in my own damn room, surrounded by textbooks, flashcards, and notes that looked like they belonged in a 1900 medical school horror movie. And right across from me sat he.

Mateo.

The same bartender nerd with the old cracked phone and glasses that slipped down his nose every five seconds.

Two days ago, I’d sworn to myself I wasn’t going to go through with this. No way in hell. Tutors were for people who failed, not for people like me who just... didn’t care. But here I was, staring at a nerd in a white body shirt and black trousers, who looked like he’d been pulled out of one of those “hot nerd makeover” scenes in a rom-com.

And damn, did he look good.

His shirt clung to his torso just enough to show the faint lines of muscle. His sleeves were rolled halfway up, veins visible on his smooth skin. That body didn’t come from gym hours—that was from hard work. Labor. Grit. He had the kind of strength you couldn’t buy.

I hated that it was kind of sexy.

“Okay,” Mateo said, setting his backpack on the floor and pulling out a notebook. “Let’s start with anatomy.”

I groaned. “Of all things, why anatomy?”

He gave me that look. You know, that deadpan are you serious right now stare that made him look like someone’s exhausted dad.

“Because according to your timetable, you have Anatomy 301 tomorrow.”

I flopped onto my bed dramatically.

“Can’t we pick something else? Like… ethics? Or maybe sleeping 101?”

Mateo crossed his arms.

“No. Anatomy. Sit up, Alejandro.”

I sat up, grumbling like a child being told to eat vegetables. I could’ve studied at my desk, but no—Mateo had chosen my bed as his spot. My bed. The same one I’d once used for activities that were definitely not studying.

He sat cross-legged, flipping open the textbook. His glasses slid down again, and he pushed them up with a finger. I couldn’t help but stare at his hands. Long fingers. Slight calluses. The kind that came from holding things other than pens.

“Are you listening?” he asked suddenly.

“Huh?” I blinked, caught.

Mateo sighed. “What was the last thing I said?”

I glanced at the textbook—closed.

Shit.

“Uh… anatomy?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Unbelievable.”

“Hey, don’t be so dramatic, professor,” I teased. “We just started.”

He muttered something under his breath and reopened the book.

“Let’s start again. THE CARDIOVASCULAR SYSTEM.”

I spun my pen lazily. “Right. Hearts and stuff.”

“Yes, hearts and stuff,” he deadpanned.

I smirked. “So… the heart’s like a love pump, right?”

Mateo froze. “A what?”

“You know,” I said, waving a hand. “It pumps love through the veins.”

He groaned.

“It pumps blood, Alejandro. Actual blood. Though I’m starting to think your brain isn’t getting any.”

I laughed. “Didn’t think you had that in you, nerd.”

“Didn’t think you needed this much hand-holding to pass basic biology,” he shot back smoothly.

“What are you even doing in the medical field? You should’ve been a model. Or an actor. Or a politician, with how much you talk.”

That one stung a bit.

I didn’t even know why I was here.

I hated pharmacy, hated pretending like I cared about any of this.

Everything I did was because of my father. The grades, the image, the life. I wasn’t even living for myself.

If you asked me what I wanted, I would say what my father wants or I had no idea.

“Wow,” I said quietly. “Didn’t know my life was open for review.”

Mateo glanced at me, guilt flickering in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to. I already felt seen. And I wasn’t used to being seen.

He started explaining again, something about arteries and veins, but I wasn’t hearing a damn word.

I was watching him—how his mouth moved when he spoke, how he licked his lips when they got dry, how his voice deepened slightly when he got passionate about the topic.

"You're so sassy you know that right? Not that you're a rainbow guy or something."

"I am a rainbow guy."

And then I realised something—Mateo wasn’t just cute. He was gay.

His nails were painted blue. His tone—confident, unapologetic.

“I’m not ashamed of it,” he said suddenly, as if reading my mind.

“You can call me whatever names you want, I just came here to tutor you and leave.”

I blinked. “I wasn’t going to call you names.”

He shrugged, clearly not believing me, and bent over his notes again.

“Good. Let’s move on.”

I did know how people treated individuals from the LGBTQ+ community.

It was like a divide between the normals and the unapologetic.

Many were confident of their sexuality despite the stigma, like Mateo, and some were either in the closet or too scared to admit it.

Like me.

I leaned in closer, close enough to smell him. Soap. Coffee. Something faintly cinnamon. My pulse quickened before I even realised it.

“You know,” I murmured near his ear,

“You’re kind of hot when you’re all serious like that. Makes it hard to concentrate.”

Mateo stiffened. “W-what?”

I smiled. “You heard me.”

He snapped his notebook shut.

“I think that’s enough for today. I've had enough of this mockery and subtle digs about my sexuality.”

He stood up, but I was faster. I blocked his path, towering over him. I was taller by at least five inches, maybe more.

“What’s wrong, doc? You nervous?” I whispered.

He spun around, glaring up at me. “You wish.”

Before he could say anything else, I snatched his glasses right off his face.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Give those back!”

I held them above my head, grinning.

“You gotta earn them back, pup.”

“Are you serious right now?” he snapped. “You’re acting like a child.”

He jumped—actually jumped—to grab them, and I laughed so hard I almost fell.

He finally snatched them back, glaring.

“Tutoring’s over. I’ll see you tomorrow. Try not to fail. If not for the money, I’d have quit this stupid job already. This is why I avoid teaching rich snobs.”

“Wow,” I said, eyebrows raised. “You’ve got quite the mouth, nerd.”

He didn’t respond. He just stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

I sat there for a second, then started laughing.

“Rich snob,” I muttered to myself.

No one had ever called me that before. Not even close. But maybe he was right. Without my father’s money, I was nothing.

That thought hit deeper than I wanted it to.

That night, I lay in bed with my laptop, scrolling through movies until I stumbled on one titled ' Dirty Desires'.

A male teacher. His male student. The tension was insane.

I clicked on it and the movie was going normal and funny, the new teacher having troubles with the popular delinquent.

Then things got heated.

The scene showed the teacher grabbing the student by his neck and inhaling his scent.

Then the teacher bent the student over, removed his tie and tied it around the guy's neck, pulling his trousers down and slamming is unusual huge cock into his ass, while pulling at the tie.

I was already palming myself through my sweatpants, breathing hard.

My mind kept flickering to Mateo—his lips, his voice, that blush.

When it got to the part of the student sucking off the teacher while stroking his own cock, I couldn't take it anymore and brought out and cock, spat on it and began to stroke.

The student was gagging but taking the cock deep in his throat. The teacher was groaning and saying dirty words.

I groaned and came alongside the student, and I slammed my laptop shut and stared at my hands covered in my cum.

What have I done?

A knock startled me. I jumped, scrambling for tissues.

“Come in!”

My mother stepped inside.

“Your father wants you in his office.”

Of course he did.

I trudged to his office, where he sat behind his massive oak desk, fingers steepled.

“Your grades,” he said flatly.

“Average. That won’t suffice if you intend to take over Castillo Pharmaceuticals.”

“I never said I wanted to,” I muttered.

His cold eyes met mine.

“This isn’t about what you want. It’s about proving yourself.”

“I don’t need to prove anything,” I said.

“Yes, you do,” he replied.

“You’ve grown comfortable. You need a challenge. Which is why I’m removing you from this house.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You’re moving to a dorm,” he said.

“You’ll live among other students. No privileges, no luxury. I’ll also be taking your car and cutting your allowance.”

I stood up, fists clenched. “You can’t do that!”

“I can,” he said coolly. “And I already have.”

“Why do you enjoy punishing me, Father?” I hissed.

“This isn’t punishment. It is growth. Be grateful.”

“Grateful?” I laughed bitterly.

“You think grandpa did this to you? You think your sisters weren’t capable of running the company, because they are women as you always say? No—you were handed everything!”

His jaw tightened. “You will not talk to me that way.”

“Did you also put Diego in a dorm?” I shot back. “Take away his car? Reduce his allowance?”

“Diego excels. You don’t.”

That was the final blow.

I laughed, hollow and sharp. “You don’t want to challenge me, Father. You just want to see me break.”

His eyes hardened. “Enough. The movers will come tomorrow.”

I stormed out of his office, rage burning through me.

I hated him. I hated how he controlled every inch of my life, how he could tear down my pride with a few cold words.

And as I packed that night, one thought kept circling my mind—

If this was his idea of a challenge, he had no idea what kind of monster he was about to create.