Stargazing

Dylan

I closed the door behind me, my thoughts in chaos.

Mr. Wolfe’s unusual actions recurred in my thoughts, yet I failed to comprehend them.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands gripping the sheets, trying to push the unease away.

It didn’t work.

I required air.

Stepping out onto the balcony, I leaned against the railing, letting the cool breeze wash over me.

The forest extended downward, its dark outline merging with the horizon.

Above, the sky was clear, dotted with stars that seemed impossibly bright.

I stared at them, my chest tightening.

The stars reminded me of another night.

Five years prior, my roommate compelled me to attend a basketball game.

I did not wish to attend.

I did not care about sports or crowds.

But he insisted, stating that it would be enjoyable, so I accompanied him.

That is when I first saw him.

Tristan Wolfe.

He was not merely a player on the court; he was the focus of all activity.

His actions were quick and exact, his demeanor authoritative.

Every eye in the room was on him, including mine.

I was unable to avert my gaze.

His attractiveness was not merely handsome; it was captivating.

The type of individual who caused you to forget your own name.

I had fallen in love with him that night.

Difficult.

At Harvard, Tristan was a legend.

Brilliant in class, unstoppable on the court.

People spoke of him as if he were untouchable, a star shining too brightly for anyone to approach.

However, I really wanted to try it.

For years, I admired him from a distance.

Observing him studying in the library, laughing with friends, walking around the campus with that assured gait.

I was aware it lacked common sense.

An individual such as Tristan would never see an individual such as myself.

But I couldn’t help it.

I dreamed about him.

Wondered what it would feel like to talk to him, to make him smile, to matter to him.

Eventually, I decided to take a chance.

I dedicated weeks to mustering the courage.

Practicing what I would say.

Telling myself that perhaps, just perhaps, he would see me as something beyond a mere anonymous person. His shadow.

But before I could address him, it occurred.

An omega, laughing, ran into his arms and pulled him close.

Mr. Wolfe smiled at them, his hands resting on their waist, his head bending down to murmur something in their ear.

My chest felt as though it had been crushed.

Later, a friend told me that Mr. Wolfe exclusively dated omegas.

That he wasn't the type to settle down.

I knew it was finished before its commencement.

I told myself to forget him.

However, five years afterward, I transitioned into his assistant role.

The instant I entered his office, the memories returned in abundance.

His appearance remained unchanged—tall, sharp, confident.

His voice showed calmness yet authority, his stare penetrating.

He did not remember me from college, naturally.

To him, I was just another beta.

That was just the way it was.

I told myself I didn’t feel anything for him anymore.

That my former admiration had vanished.

However, I was being dishonest.

Every time he looked at me, spoke to me, asked me to stay late—I felt it.

I remained that college student, hopelessly infatuated with someone I could never have.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

The stars above me were blurry; their light was suddenly excessively bright.

Without thinking, I retrieved my phone and composed a message.

The stars are beautiful tonight.

I hesitated before hitting send.

Would he consider me unusual? Would he even reply?

I sent it anyway.

A short time afterward, I looked across the courtyard.

To my astonishment, I watched him exit onto his balcony.

He looked up at the sky, his expression unreadable.

For a long moment, neither of us said anything.

We remained in that spot, apart in space yet linked by the celestial bodies overhead.

My chest ached.

Later, a notification sounded on my phone.

I picked it up, and my breath caught in my throat.

No one has ever invited me to stargaze previously.

It was beautiful.

I stared at the screen, reading the words over and over.

It was beautiful.

There was something in his words that caused my heart to ache—a quiet loneliness I couldn’t quite comprehend.

I desired to respond, to utter something potentially consoling to him.

However, I lacked the words to say .

I couldn’t help but wonder why he felt that way.

Why Mr. Wolfe, accustomed to receiving all his desires, would experience loneliness.

But then again, perhaps it was not about what he had.

Perhaps it concerned what he lacked.

I knew better than to think anything could happen between us.

He was an Alpha, and I was a Beta.

I was nothing compared to him.

I possessed no scent, no allure.

I wasn’t someone who could make him feel the pull that Omegas did.

He was never able to look at me in the same way that he looked at them.

I had no illusions about that.

I observed his behavior toward the surrounding Omegas—possessive, hungry, and intensely desirous in a manner unlike his interactions with others.

I was only a Beta.

I was never intended to be anything beyond that.

He'd never desire me as he desired them.

And that was acceptable to me.

All I was required to be.

I was not among those Betas who attempted to grab the attention of Alphas, to dream something impossible.

I was not foolish enough to believe he would ever notice me as he noticed them.

I would mate with a Beta like me, certainly, as that is our destined purpose.

That is how it work.

Beta could only ever be with betas.

I would love a beta just like my parents.

And… and I would be happy….

I hoped.

For someone like Mr. Wolfe and I, we were worlds apart….

“Ah, damn it,” I breathed out, blowing a breath and wounding my fingers through my hair.

I closed the message and leaned back. There was no point in dreaming. Not for me.

So I set my phone down and stared at the stars, hoping they would say what I couldn’t.