Title: Falling Down Sideways
Author: Prentice
Rating: Mature
Fandom: Jurassic World
Pairing: Owen Grady/Zach Mitchell
Category: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics. Alternate Universe. Romance.
Warnings: Age Difference. Possessive Behavior. Some Language.
Summary: Zach Mitchell had a plan. He'd graduate from high school, go to college, and get as far away from his soon-to-be-divorced parents as possible. Sure, it wasn't a brilliant plan, nor was it a particularly complex one, and, yeah, he felt a little shitty about leaving his little brother behind, but it was a hell of a lot better than spending another year listening to his parents argue. Too bad nobody told him that plans had a way of changing, especially when you least expect it.
Author's Notes: This fic begins a few months before the events of Jurassic World with some obvious changes to canon events. For example, in this universe, the Raptor Program and Owen's involvement in it have been purposely leaked to the public via a social media site. You might notice other such changes as we go along so please bear that in mind.
Also, just so you know, I've hen-picked certain elements from the A/B/O verse that I wanted to use and left others behind. I also use the term 'Zeta' to refer to people who are neither Alpha, Beta, or Omega, which are considered secondary genders in this verse. There's no specific reason for this other than wanting a term to use for those people that didn't imply that any one dynamic is somehow more normal (or better) than the others. Lastly, Zach is seventeen fixing to be eighteen in this fic and Owen is thirty-two. If you don't like the age difference, you should probably bail out now.
I've gone ahead and cleaned-up some of the language to better fit in with the sites' guidelines. If you want to read the unedited version, please head over to AO3. Apologies for any lingering tense or grammar issues!
The sound of laughter was the only thing keeping Zach in place. Echoing off the walls of the crowded gymnasium, the laughter – the noise – was the only thing keeping him from bolting out of the metal doors on the other side of the gym. The only thing keeping him from doing anything that could possibly draw attention to himself.
It shouldn't have been.
He could remember a time before – before, it was funny how his life was turning into a series of before's and after's lately – when it would have all been so much white noise; a low persistent murmur that he'd learned to tune out years ago. Not even his girlfriend's – ex-girlfriend's – voice would have been able to penetrate, his sullen indifference barely slowing her down as she chattered away at him; not to him, never to him. Katie had always been too busy planning their future for that.
Now, though.
Now…
It was different. He was different. He was – screwed. He was so screwed, and there wasn't even anything he could do about it. Not unless there was a way he could go back and rewrite history. Or nature. Mostly nature.
Hand lifting to scrub tiredly over the side of his face, Zach winced at how soft his skin felt. Cringed at how supple his jaw seemed. How smooth his chin was. There was no stubble. No wispy scratch of forgotten scruff. No missed patches of rough bristles. His skin was smooth, soft. The hair there – nothing more than peach fuzz – was downy, silky-smooth.
It would always be that way. Soft and light. Never in need of shaving.
Fingers curling, Zach dropped his hand back into his lap and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Glanced uneasily around the noisy gym and half-filled bleachers. He wanted to get out of here. Wanted to run.
To where, he didn't know, he just wanted to go. Get away. Far away. As far away as he could get, just so he wouldn't have to deal with this shit anymore, because this was – he was – god.
God.
This was so screwed up. So stupid. He shouldn't have to be dealing with this. It wasn't – he wasn't – he was seventeen for god's sake. Seventeen. Not twelve.
He shouldn't be going through this. He was too old for it. Or too young. Or, shit, he didn't know – it felt like he didn't know anything anymore – and it wasn't fair that he was having to go through it now.
Now, of all times.
A few months from graduating, this should have been the happiest time of his life. He was supposed to be free soon. Free from this stupid town, this stupid school, and all the stupid freaking tension between his parents, who completely sucked at trying to pretend that everything was going to be okay between them.
It wasn't. Zach knew it wasn't. Hell, even his little brother Gray, who despite being so smart tended to be oblivious to most things, knew it wasn't.
They'd both heard the fights. The half-whispered arguments. The barbed comments and petty digs.
It was over. They were over. His parents were getting a divorce; it was only a matter of time.
Time that Zach hadn't thought he'd have to worry about. He was supposed to be off to college soon – not on a scholarship; he wasn't smart like his brother – but with a student loan that his parents had already agreed to help him pay as long as he kept his grades up. It wasn't perfect, not by a long shot; he'd still have to come home for the holidays and for school breaks, but it was a chance to get away from all the bullshit.
And, sure, he felt a little bad about leaving Gray in the middle of it. For all the crap he gave his little brother, he loved the kid to death and wished there was a way to drag him out of the muck with him, but that just wasn't possible. Gray might've been smart for his age – far smarter than Zach sometimes gave him credit for – but he was still just a kid and that meant staying at home with their parents, even if being at home sometimes felt like being in a war zone or something.
Freaking emotional minefields everywhere. Even in the places he least expected it, because his mother was a crier and his father was silent and the two of them together were a freaking nightmare. But, whatever, right?
He'd be out of there soon. On his way to college, away from all the crap he'd had to deal with for years because his parents couldn't get their shit together and realize it would be kinder to all of them if they'd just split up. He'd be gone – away.
Just like he wanted to be.
Only…
Not anymore.
That plan – that dream – had gone up in smoke. Up in freaking flames. In an inferno.
One that had started beneath his skin sometime late one evening over a month ago, burning through his system until he'd been left shaking and trembling. Tears streaming out the corners of his eyes as Gray had tried desperately to call their parents, who'd claimed to be going out to dinner – a lie if Zach had ever heard one, but neither he nor his brother had called them on it. He'd tried to ride it out, to comfort his brother and reassure him that he would be all right, but the pain, the burn, had been too much.
The intensity of it had left him curled in a ball in the bathroom. Sweaty and weak, he'd retched and shivered, heated forehead pressed against the side of the toilet as his stomach had clenched and clenched until he was sure his insides were liquefied and he was going to die. Going to burst into flames and leave behind a sooty darkened smear on the tile floor that no amount of Lysol would ever be able to get rid of.
He hadn't – of course he hadn't – but he'd wanted to after everything was said and done. Because it was wrong, he was wrong, and this shit wasn't supposed to happen to him. It was supposed to happen to someone else, someone who wanted it, and it made him angry and sullen and so freaking terrified because this changed everything for him.
His whole life was changed. His whole future was changed. Irrevocably. Irretrievably. Forever.
Fingers clenching, Zach grimaced, that ugly-angry swell of all-too-familiar resentment stirring in his belly at the thought. It was bullshit. This was bullshit.
He didn't deserve this shit.
He really didn't.
Goddammit.
Why him? Why now? Why the hell did he have to be this way..?
"Zach. Hey Zach. Dude, dude, are you even listening... Uh, are you okay, man?"
Jerking, Zach blinked, breath exhaling in a sharp startled gust as he looked towards the voice. It was Tay – Taylor, to most people – one of the few friends Zach had bothered to stay friends with over the years. They weren't as close as they once had been – Zach's relationship with Katie had left an awkward distance between them that he wasn't sure how to fix – but they were still friends.
Blinking again, Zach mentally shook himself.
Damn, he needed to get control of himself. It felt like his emotions were all over the place lately, his mood swinging from casual indifference to white-hot anger in a matter of seconds. Christ, he'd even found himself tearing up the other morning because he'd gotten in a fight with his brother – a fight that he'd started, if only because Gray couldn't just shut up for one freaking second.
"Sorry, man," Zach replied, hand lifting to once again scrub at the side of his face. "Guess I'm just zoning today; didn't get much sleep last night. What'd you say?"
"Uh," Tay started, lips pulling into a slightly bemused frown before shaking his head and flopping down onto the empty bleacher seat next to him. "Never mind, dude. It wasn't important; I was just talking about a stupid-sick campaign I ran last night in Call of Duty. I'll tell you about it later."
Nodding, Zach let his hand fall back into his lap, fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on his jeans. Damn, he really needed to try to get his shit together and focus. "Sounds good, man."
"So, uh," hand waving vaguely towards the front of the crowded gymnasium and the row of empty seats someone had set up facing the bleachers, Tay asked: "You excited? Word is McGuire actually managed to get someone halfway decent to come in and talk instead of the usual lame recruiters from the strip mall down the street. Billy said he heard from Matt who heard from Mike it might actually be, like, some kind of celebrity or something."
Zach snorted. "Yeah, well, Mike also said that 'The Walking Dead' is probably gonna happen one day. Dumbass even tried to get his dad to buy him a crossbow."
"True," Tay agreed with a laugh before nudging Zach roughly with his shoulder. "But, c'mon, dude, it'd be freakin' awesome if they got somebody new. I mean, aren't you sick of all that 'be all that you can be' bullshit we get every year from those recruiters? It'd be sweet if they got someone – freaking anyone – else up in here."
"Yeah, maybe," Zach shrugged. Honestly, he couldn't give a crap about who Principal McGuire had roped into talking to them. It wasn't like anyone actually listened during these career day assemblies since they were pretty much just another way of getting out of classes for a while, and that would be especially true today, what with winter break starting in a few days.
Frowning at the thought, Zach picked harder at the loose thread on his jeans, blunt fingernails scraping against the denim as he half-listened to Tay throw out increasingly ridiculous ideas about who it was McGuire had gotten to speak to them ("Maybe that dude from the hotels commercial? You know, Captain Obvious? Wait, no, too obvious! Ha!"). He really wasn't looking forward to winter break this year. It was going to be – difficult – and not just because his parents would probably try to hide their already-ridiculously-strained relationship.
No, it was more than that. A lot more than that.
Fighting back a sigh, Zach nodded absently when Tay offered up another ridiculous possibility – (" –Johannsson? Dude, if it was I'd freakin' lose my shit, she's my favorite–") – and tried his best to focus on something – anything – other than the upcoming winter break. It was no use though. His thoughts kept circling back to it, stomach muscles clenching with a mix of irritation and dread.
God, ever since his parents had rushed him to the emergency room, frantic with worry and absolutely convinced he had a ruptured appendix or something; his entire life had been turned upside down. So much so, that he couldn't even look forward to his last winter break in high school because he was too busy being worried about the disaster that was waiting for him. And it would be a disaster, he was sure of it.
Examined by at least three different emergency room doctors and one specialist they had had to call in from a nearby city, Zach had trembled his way through a thoroughly traumatizing meeting with said specialist while the man explained, in horrifyingly graphic detail, exactly what was wrong with him to him and his parents: Zach was in the very beginning pre-estrus phase of becoming an exceedingly rare Omega male.
Shit.
Just thinking about it made Zach want to vomit. Vomit and maybe hit something. Something like mother nature and his parents and that stupid freaking specialist who had waved away his and his parents denials and confusion like they didn't mean anything. Like it didn't matter that his family didn't have a history of Secondary-Gender Dynamics on either side and that this sort of thing usually happened during puberty and not to a seventeen-almost-eighteen year old teenage boy who knew only the most basic generalities about SGDs and even less about Omegas specifically.
It had taken everything Zach had had in him not to simply jump from his hospital bed and deck the guy, no matter how badly he felt what with his insides feeling like they were trying to rearrange themselves. Which they were, in a way. At least according to Dr. Dipshit:
"What your son is going through is what the Alpha-Beta-Omega and Zeta Organization recognizes as a 'Transformative Progression', which is just a fancy way of saying that his body is changing. In fact, outside of ABOZO circles, it's usually just called 'The Change'. It's when a Zeta – ah, forgive me," he amended upon seeing their confusion. "I mean a non-secondary-gender dynamic person, such as yourselves or, in this case, Zach, begins the process –the progression – of growing into or transforming into their secondary-gender dynamic."
"You mean," his father had asked haltingly, "that Zach is – that my son is – is going through this – this…?"
"Change?" The doctor had finished for him, head already bobbing in confirmation. "Yes, he is. It's actually quite surprising, considering your families' personal histories of having only Zeta, that is to say, Non-Secondary Gender Dynamics within your family tree. Generally speaking, there's usually at least one ancestral link back to someone who presented as something other than Zeta. That's why the doctors here tried running so many tests before they called me: they wanted to be sure."
"Does this mean our other son – that he might present – uh, transform – whatever it's called – too?"
Brows rising at his father's question, Dr. Dipshit had rocked back on his heels, looking thoughtful. "It's – possible," he'd replied slowly, carefully. "But I would say unlikely. Disregarding Zach's current situation, your family history of Zeta-exclusivity would suggest that there's little chance for both of your sons to present as something other than that. "
"That having been said," the doctor continued, "there are tests that can be done to see if your other son – or either of you, for that matter – have some form of latent or recessive gene that is only now beginning to present itself in Zach. Rest assured, however, that even if your other son were to present, it would be extremely unlikely that he would also present as an Omega."
"Why?"
Brows once again rising, Dr. Dipshit had taken a moment to study them, eyes skimming over Zach's pale and trembling form, his father's uneasy expression, and his mother's teary gaze before sighing and pulling over a nearby stool to sit down on.
"Exactly how much do you know about Omegas, male Omegas specifically?" He'd asked once he was settled.
"Not much," his father had answered for all of them. "I know Zach and Gray were given some basic information about them in school and the – uh, the Organization thing has been running an awareness campaign in recent years to try to, um, get rid of some of the misconceptions and misinformation about different dynamics but I, we, never really paid much attention."
Shifting uncomfortably, his father had shrugged. "There'd never really been a need to for us, I guess. I mean, I work with a guy who's a Beta and I'm pretty sure there's a woman in the HR department that's an Alpha but I didn't – I don't – it hasn't really been a part of our personal lives or anything."
Nodding in understanding, the doctor had set his clipboard down onto the edge of Zach's hospital bed before leaning back a little.
"You have to understand, Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell, Zach, that until a few years ago, the Omega Dynamic was one of the most widely misunderstood and insulated dynamics there was within the SGDs. I won't go into all the details about the history of SGDs because it arguably dates back into pre-history, nor will I go into all the how's and why's of how Omegas have been treated throughout history, because that's an extremely long and extremely complicated conversation. One that I have to admit I don't feel qualified to give you, though I'll be happy to refer you to one of my colleagues within the ABOZO for later when your family feels prepared to learn more, which I highly encourage you to do."
Pausing, he waited for their collective nods before continuing. "This is what I will and am prepared to say, however: in modern times and in a general sense, Omegas are rare. I hesitate – extremely – to say that we've evolved beyond the point of needing them in today's society as others have suggested in the past since that is, I think, patently untrue."
"However, there is no getting away from the fact that there has been a sizeable decrease in Omega – emergences, we'll say – within the last hundred years or so. No one knows for certain why; there are several working theories involving environmental factors and climate change, and even a few of the more prominent scientists in the field have floated around the idea that it might be due to some biological and/or evolutionary fail-safe but, again, no one really knows for certain."
"That said," he leaned forward again, "the thing that you need to take away is this: Omegas are uncommon these days. Male Omegas, even more so. I would say that, at a rough estimate, male-identifying Omegas make up less than one percent of the total population of Omegas within the whole of North America and South America."
Glancing between his mother and father, the doctor had inclined his head towards Zach. "That's one of the many reasons why we've all been very careful about putting a name to, or treating, your son's current condition. Simply put: it's an extraordinarily unique case. One that the staff of this hospital simply wasn't prepared to handle and one that I'm still trying to decide the best approach for."
"What do you mean?" His father had asked then, expression inscrutable.
Pausing again, the doctor had sighed. "It means, Mr. Mitchell, that over the next few weeks, possibly months, your son's body is going to be going through some extraordinary changes. Some of them will be physically obvious, but mostly they will be internal, as your son's body prepares itself for its first heat."
"Heat?" Zach remembered sputtering, even as he'd been wracked with another full body shudder. "Heat?! I'm not a – a – I'm not a damn dog."
Lifting a hand, Dr. Dipshit waved the comparison aside. "No, Zach, you're most certainly not. However, as much as the term might seem distasteful or repugnant to you, that is the widely used term for what your body will be going through. What your body is preparing itself for now; though it'll be some weeks before we have to worry about possibly setting you on a course of suppressants to help manage your worse symptoms."
"So," his mother had said into the ensuing silence, even as her hand tightened around Zach's own. He'd had to resist the urge to shake her off, strangely uncomfortable with being touched right then, even by his own mother. "So, what does this all mean for Zach? Is he – will he be able to go back to school? Do we need to – does he need special arrangements? He's supposed to be starting his first year of college in the fall."
Another pause and then the doctor shifted on his stool.
"Mrs. Mitchell," he had begun, only to pause and glance between Zach and his father. "Mr. Mitchell, Zach, I want you all to know that I understand how hard this is for you and how–"
"Cut to the chase, doc," Zach's dad had cut in, hand coming down onto Zach's shoulder tight enough for Zach to grimace, hands fisting themselves in the blankets on his hospital bed.
Glancing between them all, Dr. Dipshit sighed again. "While I think that it's entirely possible, even likely, for Zach to be able to finish out his schooling through the end of the year, I very much doubt going off to college will be a possibility right now."
"What?!" Zach had exploded, fingers digging themselves tighter into the blankets. "What, no! I'm going to college! That's not – you can't tell me that! That's bullshit!"
"Zach," his mother had started, her voice wavering as she tried to calm him down, but he wasn't having it. He wasn't, because this was bullshit. Absolute and utter bullshit.
"No! No! That's bullshit, mom! I don't – this dipshit is wrong! The tests got it wrong! I'm not a – a – damn Omega or whatever. I'm just – I'm sick, that's all. Give me a freaking pill or something."
Pushing down the blankets, Zach had tried to shake off his parents' grip, ready to storm out the room – out of the damn hospital – regardless of how crappy he felt, because this was insane. Everybody was freaking insane.
"Zach, sweetie," his mother had tried again, only to have his father interrupt, hand squeezing around his shoulder before sliding to the back of his neck in a comfortingly familiar gesture that had reminded Zach of being ten years old again.
"Karen, don't baby him," his dad had snapped at her before turning his attention towards Zach, "Zach, settle down, son. I think we all know running away from the situation won't help anything."
For a moment – a clear petty moment, Zach had been tempted to throw the words back at him because what the fuck had him and his mom been doing this entire time if not running away from the whole 'situation' with their broken marriage, but he'd stopped himself. Or, well, his body had, because as soon as he'd opened his mouth to let the words fly, a wave of shudders had raced down his spine and set off a burning in his lower stomach. Whimpering, he'd rode it out, barely stopping himself from vomiting all over the floor.
When it was over, he'd let himself be pushed back onto the bed, strangely weak and rung out from the latest bout of his insides trying to rearrange themselves or whatever it was they were doing.
"Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell, Zach," Dr. Dipshit had said a little while later, fingers carefully encircling Zach's wrist as he checked his pulse. "I know this is hard for you and it's a lot for you all to take in. Especially given how uninformed you all are about SGDs and how unexpected this was for both you and Zach, but I can assure you that I and my colleagues will do everything we can to help ease Zach's transition and get you the information you need to be able to make informed decisions from here on out."
Settling Zach's arm gently back down onto the hospital bed, Dr. Dipshit had patted his hand slightly, seemingly consolingly, before taking a step back.
"For now, however, I think it's best if we allow Zach to get some rest. I know," he'd hurried on before they could protest, deftly pushing the stool back to where it had been before scooping up his clipboard in a smooth well-practiced move. "That you all have more questions – you especially, Zach – but it's extremely important that you don't overtax yourself right now. I'll be back in a few hours to check on you and will do my utmost to address any further questions or concerns you or your family might have. Try to get some rest, Zach."
Turning quickly on his heels, the doctor had left. Which, honestly, was probably a good thing because Zach had still felt like hitting the guy. Preferably in the face.
And the balls.
Fuck.
How was he – was anyone – supposed to get some rest after being told that crap? He sure in the hell hadn't. Couldn't, not with all that bullshit turning over constantly in his head.
Instead, all he could do was lie there, hot and infinitely miserable, insides twisting themselves into painful knots as his parents hovered irritatingly over him, barbed comments flying like they always did. It had been miserable; he had been miserable; the whole damn situation had been miserable.
And now, here he was, hands fisting in his lap, head so full it felt a little bit like it might explode, with a gym full of rowdy teenagers who had no freaking clue how quickly his life had imploded around him. Hell, not even Tay, who was still babbling endlessly next to him – (" –don't even think she'd like Fruit Loops but I think I could change–") – was completely oblivious to the turmoil he was in. And, really, that was exactly the way he wanted it.
He couldn't bear the thought of one of his classmates finding out. Not here, not now. Not yet.
He knew there would come a time that it would happen. It was inevitable. According to the ABOZO counselor, the one that Dr. Dipshit had referred them to and that his mother had insisted they all go see as a family almost as soon as he'd been released from the hospital; there would be no hiding what he was once his first – heat; god, just thinking the word made him want to punch something – had passed.
From what he'd been able to gather from the information packet the counselor had given him, one whiff of him after his first heat and the world would know what he was. Whether he wanted it or not. Whether he could handle it or not.
Which, really, was the only reason why he was even allowed to go to school right now, even if his first heat was looming ever closer on the proverbial horizon. He didn't smell right yet. Wouldn't smell right, not until his heat had started.
God, this was such a damn nightmare. One that he couldn't seem to wake up from. No matter how much he wanted to.
"Holy shit!"
Startling at the sudden exclamation from Tay, Zach jerked in his seat, heart jumping into his throat as he turned towards his friend only to realize that the other boy was staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed over the sea of other teens towards the double doors on the opposite side of the gym and not at him as he'd at first feared.
Hand lifting to drag through his hair – fuck, no matter how irrational it was, he'd honestly thought for a second that Tay had somehow known what he'd been thinking about – Zach glanced towards where his friend was gaping but he didn't see anything other than a few teachers huddled together near the open doorways. "Tay?"
"Dude," Tay whispered, hand coming down to grasp tightly onto his t-shirt. "Dude. I can't – I mean – I just – dude, look. "
Glancing back towards the group of teachers, Zach couldn't help but frown. He still really didn't see anything out of the ordinary. "Look at what, man? It's just some of the teachers or something, and McGuire."
"Zach," Tay replied, grip releasing from his shirt to wave almost frantically towards the group. "Dude, no, look at the dude in the middle. The one wearing the plaid shirt? Don't tell me you don't recognize him?"
Eyebrows lifting, Zach shook his head, because, seriously? The guy in the plaid shirt wasn't even facing them. He was turned towards the teachers; head cocked as he listened to whatever McGuire seemed to be telling him.
"Man, what are you even talking about?" Zach asked, frown deepening slightly as he watched Plaid-Guy shake his head, shoulders lifting in a casual shrug that brought a slight scowl to the principal's face. Zach huffed a laugh. "Looks like he's pissing off McGuire whoever he–"
"Dude, it's Owen Grady," Tay blurted out, loud enough for a few nearby people to glance their way. "Like, the Owen Grady." Seeing Zach's blank look, Tay shook his head at him. "Dude, he's the guy that's supposed to be heading up the Raptor program at Jurassic World. The one that, like, everybody denied existed until one of the handlers or something supposedly leaked video of it onto Reedit a few months ago. I watched it like fifty times before it got pulled; shits crazy."
Zach shook his head again. "Seriously, Tay, you really need to check your meds. Even if McGuire did somehow swing getting someone other than those recruiters to talk to us, there's no way he'd be able to get that guy. My Aunt Claire doesn't even–"
"Holy shit," Tay exclaimed again, drawing another few glances their way. "I forgot about your aunt, dude. Do you think maybe you could–"
"No," Zach interrupted sharply, lips pursing. "Don't even think about asking. I haven't seen or spoken to my aunt in years, you know that. Hell, she only even calls my mom because she knows she'll get shit for it if she doesn't."
"But–"
"No," Zach repeated firmly. There was no way he was going to deal with his aunt's crap on top of everything else just so Tay could cream his pants over some guy that would probably not even turn out to be the right one. "I'm not doing it, so you can cut the crap and stop asking, or I'll tell Kavanagh you were the one who ripped off his book report idea in AP English."
"Harsh," Tay complained, before giving a slightly disappointed sigh. "Sorry, dude. I know stuff with your aunt was never the best; I shouldn't have asked."
Inclining his head in acknowledgement of the apology, Zach shrugged. "It's cool, man. I probably shouldn't have snapped at you. Things have just been screwed up lately."
"Your parents?"
Hesitantly, Zach nodded. He'd known Tay a long time – longer than most of his other friends, in fact – but there was no way he was telling the guy about the whole Omega thing until he absolutely had to. Especially since their friendship wasn't exactly as close as it used to be.
"Yeah, that and some other crap," he replied vaguely, turning his attention back towards the cluster of adults. They were still talking, though it looked to be winding down. "So, if it is who you say it is, who do you think McGuire had to blow to make it happen?"
Snorting a laugh, Tay grinned. "Dude, I don't even want to think about it. Still, though, it's pretty freaking awesome. I mean, Owen freaking Grady, man. That's insane. In the videos he's– "
Almost automatically, Zach tuned Tay out again, used to his friend's endless babble and ability to entertain himself as he studied the guy his friend was sure was Grady.
Even from a distance, it was obvious the guy, whoever he was, kept himself in shape, his broad shoulders and trim waist apparent even in the light cargo pants and plaid shirt. Reddish-brown hair messy from where he'd just dragged a hand through it, he looked tall and – Zach fidgeted, tongue dragging along his bottom lip – strong; a striking figure in a sea of middle-aged and pudgy authority figures Zach saw each and every day.
Squirming in his seat, Zach swallowed, a strange warmth sliding down his spine and coiling in his stomach as he wondered what the guy looked like from the front. Would it live up to the back view? Or would it be a letdown like everything else in his life right now?
Squirming again, that same odd warmth pulling lowly in his belly, Zach nearly gasped when the man suddenly shifted on his feet, nose lifting in the air as if scenting something, before he turned quickly towards the bleachers, eyes scanning.
Lurching slightly, Zach fisted his hands in his lap, pants tightening embarrassingly as that coiling warmth abruptly turned into a liquid heat that nearly made him whimper, arousal burning brightly beneath his skin even as the man's eyes – a clear crisp green that seemed to pierce right through him – clapped onto him.
Oh, god. Oh, shit. What the hell was wrong with him? What the hell was happening?
He felt like he couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Not unless – unless –
Freezing in his seat, Zach sucked in a startled breath, heartbeat thundering in his chest as a newly burgeoning part of him breathed quietly, almost reverently, a single solitary word that reverberated through every part of him:
"Alpha."