Chapter 5

I stand there in the school parking lot, the early morning sun just starting to warm the asphalt beneath my feet, a faint breeze carrying the scent of freshly cut grass from the nearby fields. My heart’s thumping in my chest, not from exertion but from the sheer uncertainty of what I’m about to test. I glance back at the car where Mom and Jess are waiting, the engine idling softly, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity through the windshield. I give them a quick nod, trying to look more confident than I feel, then turn my attention back to the scattered groups of students trickling toward the main entrance of Pineview High.

Mom had parked in one of the visitor spots near the front, close enough to the admin building that she could get the paperwork sorted quickly. We’re a little early—thank fuck for that—since we’re a week late starting at this school. The move had screwed up our timeline, and even though we’d called ahead to get our classes assigned and records transferred, there’s still a nagging worry in the back of my mind that something’s gonna go sideways. But right now, that’s not my biggest concern. No, what’s got my gut twisting is figuring out how the hell guys react to me after that damn wasp sting turned my dick into a fucking monster and my pheromones into some kind of irresistible pussy magnet.

I take a deep breath, the cool morning air filling my lungs, and mutter to myself, “Alright, Chris, just get this over with. One step at a time.” I’ve already told Mom and Jess to stay in the car, engine running, just in case shit hits the fan and I need to bolt. Jess had quirked an eyebrow at me, her usual bratty smirk playing on her lips as she asked, “What happens then? You just gonna run back and hide?” I’d shrugged, trying to play it cool, and said, “I’ll have to be homeschooled, I guess.” She’d laughed, but I could see the flicker of worry in her eyes. Hell, I’m worried too. What if guys turn into raging assholes around me? Or worse, what if they’re affected like the women are? I shake the thought off. No way. That’d be a whole new level of fucked up.

Looking around, I see clusters of kids heading in from the parking lot—some laughing, some glued to their phones, others dragging their feet like they’re already done with the day. A few older kids, probably seniors, climb out of beat-up cars or shiny hand-me-downs, slinging backpacks over their shoulders. I scan the crowd for a good test subject, someone who won’t make a scene if things get weird. That’s when I spot him—a lone guy, about my age, maybe a little shorter, trudging toward the entrance with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his faded hoodie. He’s got that awkward, don’t-look-at-me vibe, which makes him perfect. Less chance of him starting shit.

I jog over and call out, “Hey, man, what time does school start today?” My voice comes out steadier than I expected, but my pulse is still racing. He stops, turning to face me, and I get a good look at his expression. It’s ... weird. His eyes narrow slightly, like he’s sizing me up, but there’s no heat in it. It’s more like he’s confused, maybe a little intimidated, but definitely not lustful or anything fucked up like that. Thank Christ. I can work with this. He shifts on his feet, glancing around like he’s not sure if I’m talking to him, so I repeat myself, adding, “I’m new here, first day. Just trying to get the lay of the land.”

He relaxes a bit, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, school starts at 8:30,” he mumbles, barely making eye contact before he hurries off, his pace picking up like he can’t wait to get away from me. I watch him go, a mix of relief and curiosity settling in my chest. Okay, that wasn’t so bad. No aggression, no weird vibes beyond a little discomfort. Maybe I’m overthinking this. Maybe guys aren’t affected at all, or at least not in the same way. But I need more data. One interaction isn’t enough to call it a day.

I turn back toward the parking lot, scanning for another target. That’s when I spot two taller guys—definitely seniors, judging by their confident strides and the way they’re joking around with each other. One’s got a letterman jacket slung over his shoulder, the other’s rocking a backwards cap, both of them built like they’ve spent some time in the gym. They’re heading my way, so I figure, fuck it, let’s see how this goes. I’m feeling a bit bolder after the first guy, so I walk up to them, hands casually in my pockets, and ask the same question. “Hey, what time does school start today? I’m new here.”

They stop mid-conversation, both turning to look at me. Their reaction is different from the first guy’s, but still not what I was dreading. The one in the letterman jacket raises an eyebrow, his mouth quirking into a half-smirk, while the other just looks ... puzzled, like he’s trying to figure out why I’m even talking to them. There’s no hostility, no intimidation, and—most importantly—no weird lustful shit. Just confusion, like they’re not sure what to make of me. “Uh, 8:30, man,” the letterman guy says, his tone neutral but clipped, like he’s got better things to do. The other guy just nods, and they both keep walking, throwing a quick glance over their shoulders at me before continuing their conversation.

I stand there for a second, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My shoulders relax, and I can feel the tension in my jaw loosen. Okay, that’s two for two. Guys don’t seem to be falling all over themselves for me, thank fuck, and they’re not trying to start shit either. It’s weird, though—the confusion, the slight unease. It’s like they can sense something’s off about me, but they don’t know what. Or maybe I’m just projecting, seeing things that aren’t there because I’m so damn paranoid. So, guys aren’t affected like women are. That’s a huge fucking relief. I’m not about to have the football team trying to suck my dick in the locker room or some shit. But there’s still something ... off. That look in their eyes, like they’re trying to figure me out. Is it just because I’m new? Or is there something else at play, some subtle effect of whatever the hell that wasp sting did to me? I don’t know, and standing here overthinking it isn’t gonna give me answers.

Turning on my heel, I head back to the car where Mom and Jess are waiting, the engine still idling softly in the visitor parking spot. As I approach, I can see Mom’s eyes locked on me through the windshield, her expression a mix of maternal concern and something else I can’t quite place. Jess, on the other hand, has her usual smirk plastered on her face, one eyebrow quirked like she’s already cooking up some smartass comment. I force my shoulders to relax, trying to project a calm I don’t fully feel, and by the time I reach the car, Mom must pick up on it because she cuts the engine with a small nod. I open her door for her, a little gesture that feels weirdly normal in the midst of all this chaos, and she steps out, smoothing down her blouse with a faint smile. Jess hops out right after, slamming her door with a little more force than necessary, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

“So, no gang of horny dudes chasing you down, huh?” Jess quips, her grin widening as she falls into step beside me. “Guess that means your anal virginity’s still intact by the end of the day.”

I can’t help but chuckle, shaking my head at her antics. “Best I can tell,” I shoot back, keeping my tone light even though my mind’s still half on the weird vibes I got from those guys. Jess snickers, clearly pleased with herself, and Mom just gives a small, amused sigh as we start walking toward the main entrance of Pineview High.

The school looms ahead, a sprawling brick building with wide glass doors and a faded banner welcoming students back for the year. It’s not too crowded yet—being early has its perks—but there are enough people milling around to make my skin prickle with awareness. As we weave through the sparse clusters of students heading inside, I feel every pair of eyes on me. It’s like a fucking spotlight’s shining down, and I’m the main attraction. The girls are the worst—or the best, depending on how you look at it. Their stares are blatant, hungry, filled with that same raw lust I’ve seen in Mandy, Emily and Lisa, even Mom and Jess. Their eyes linger on me, some biting their lips, others whispering to their friends as I pass by. It’s unnerving as hell, but I’m starting to get used to it, or at least I’m trying to. I keep my gaze forward, focusing on the double doors ahead, but I can feel the heat of their attention burning into me.

The guys, though ... that’s a different story. I still can’t quite pin down what I’m seeing in their faces. It’s a mixed bag, and it’s fucking with my head. Some of the smaller, shyer-looking ones—guys who probably get pushed around in the hallways—look at me with clear intimidation, their shoulders hunching as they quicken their pace to get out of my way. Others, the bigger, more confident types, have that same confusion I saw in the seniors from earlier, like they’re trying to figure out what the hell I am. A few, though—mostly guys around my size and build—have something else in their eyes. Admiration, maybe? Respect? It’s hard to tell, but it’s definitely not hostile. I notice a pattern as we walk: the smaller the guy, the more intimidated; the bigger and stronger, the more confused; and the ones closest to me in stature seem to lean toward that odd, unspoken respect. It’s not a hard and fast rule—there are exceptions—but the trend is there, and it’s enough to make me wonder if my pheromones or whatever the fuck is happening to me are tweaking how guys perceive me on some primal level.

We reach the admin office, a small, glass-walled room just off the main hallway, and I catch sight of a woman behind the desk through the window. She’s mid-thirties, plain-looking with mousy brown hair pulled back in a tight bun, her face a mask of boredom as she shuffles through a stack of papers. She hasn’t noticed us yet, which gives me a second to brace myself. My gut twists with a familiar dread—I know what’s coming the moment she lays eyes on me. I’ve seen it too many times already. I turn to Mom, keeping my voice low but firm. “Let me do the talking, okay?” She nods, a flicker of something—pride, maybe?—crossing her face, and Jess just rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. I take a deep breath, the air feeling heavy in my lungs, trying to calm the nerves buzzing under my skin. I’ve got to keep control here. I can’t let whatever’s about to happen derail us before the day even starts.

My hand hovers over the door handle for a split second, the cool metal grounding me as I steel myself. The hallway behind us is starting to fill with more students, their chatter a low hum that only amps up my awareness of the stares still boring into me. I can feel a bead of sweat forming at the back of my neck, but I push it aside. I’ve handled worse than a bored office lady. Hell, I’ve handled a lot worse. With that thought, I push the door open, and step inside, Mom and Jess right behind me.

The stale scent of old paper and cheap air freshener hitting me immediately. The woman behind the desk looks up from her stack of forms, her bored expression morphing into something else the second her eyes lock onto mine. It’s like a switch flips; her posture straightens, her lips curve into a suggestive smile, and her voice drips with honey as she purrs, “Can I help you, sweetheart?” The tone is unmistakable, loaded with an invitation that has nothing to do with paperwork. My stomach twists, not from nerves this time but from the sheer predictability of it. Here we fucking go again.

I’ve had enough of this shit turning every interaction into a goddamn porno scene, so I decide to test something. Can I shut this down before it spirals? I square my shoulders, channeling every ounce of confidence I’ve scraped together over the past few days, and speak in a firm, assertive tone that leaves no room for bullshit. “My sister and I just transferred here. We’ve got papers to fill out. My mom needs to get to work, so let’s get this done in a hurry.” I lock eyes with her, not breaking contact, daring her to push back. I’m half-expecting her to get pissed—nobody likes being barked at—but instead, it’s like I’ve just become her fucking boss. Her demeanor shifts instantly; she nods eagerly, almost tripping over herself to comply, muttering a quick “Of course, right away,” as she shuffles through her desk for the forms.

I blink, caught off guard by how well that worked. Holy shit, it’s like I’ve got some kind of authority over her now, like my words carry weight beyond just a horny teenager trying to keep things professional. She’s all business as she confirms that our class schedules are already set up, pulling out a clipboard with the necessary paperwork for Mom to sign. “Just a few signatures here, ma’am,” she says to Mom, her tone polite but still tinged with a weird deference as she glances at me for approval. Mom takes the clipboard, scanning the forms to make sure everything’s correct, while the admin busies herself printing out our schedules from an ancient-looking computer that wheezes with every click.

While we wait, I lean against the counter, trying to keep my cool. There’s a nagging worry in the back of my mind about starting a week late, so I ask, “Missing the first week of school—could that cause any issues for us?” She looks up from the printer, her eyes softening as she focuses on me again, and she shakes her head with a reassuring smile. “Oh, don’t worry about a thing. If there are any problems, you come straight to me. I’ll take care of it.” Then, before I can respond, she grabs a sticky note, scribbles something down, and slides it across the desk to me. “Here’s my name and number. Call me about any issues, anytime—day or night.” Her voice dips low on that last part, her flirty edge creeping back in as she leans forward slightly, her plain blouse suddenly seeming a little less buttoned-up in my peripheral vision.

I glance at the note—Grace Thompson, followed by a number scrawled in loopy handwriting—and decide to play along just enough to keep her on my side. Having an ally in the admin office could be useful if shit hits the fan later. I look back at her, keeping my tone even but appreciative. “Thanks, Grace. You’ve been helpful.” The effect is immediate; her cheeks flush a deep pink, her smile widening like I’ve just handed her a fucking Oscar. She looks like she’s about to melt right there behind the desk, and if there wasn’t a barrier between us, I’m pretty damn sure she’d be trying to wrap me in a hug—or worse. I can feel the heat of her gaze lingering on me, but I turn away, focusing on Mom as she finishes signing the last form.

While waiting, I look around the room. Nothing too exciting, a “Hang in there” poster on the wall, something about a prep-rally taped to the window. That’s when I notice Jess. She’s been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time, standing off to the side with her arms crossed, not even throwing out her usual snarky comments. I glance over at her, and fuck, the look on her face hits me like a punch to the gut. She’s staring at me with this raw, hungry expression, her lower lip caught between her teeth, her eyes dark and intense. It’s the same look she’s given me before—usually right before she’s on her knees or pushing some boundary I’m not ready to cross.

Grace hands over our printed schedules, her fingers brushing mine a little too deliberately as she does, and I pull back quickly, muttering another “thanks” before stepping closer to Mom. “All good?” I ask her, and she nods, handing the signed forms back to Grace. “Everything looks in order,” Mom says, her voice calm but her eyes flicking between me and Jess with a knowing look. I can tell she’s picked up on the tension, but she doesn’t say anything. Grace files the paperwork away, still sneaking glances at me every chance she gets, and I know we’ve got to get out of here before she starts suggesting I stop by her office for “extra help” or some bullshit.

Just as we’re about to make our escape from the admin office, schedules in hand and Mom’s signatures all squared away, Grace’s voice cuts through the stale air. “Oh, wait just a moment!” she chirps, her tone still tinged with that flirty edge as she leans over the desk. “The principal wanted to meet with you before you head off.” I freeze mid-step, a flicker of annoyance mixing with the ever-present dread in my gut. Great, another interaction to navigate. I glance at Jess, who just raises an eyebrow, and Mom, who gives me a small, supportive nod. Grace is already paging someone over the ancient intercom system, her voice crackling through the speaker as she summons a “Ms. Harper” to the office.

Seconds later, the door swings open, and in walks a woman who immediately commands attention. She’s late fifties, maybe early sixties, but damn, she’s in incredible shape—fit like she spends every morning in the gym, her posture ramrod straight. Her hair is a sleek silver bob, and her sharp, tailored blazer and pencil skirt scream authority, but there’s a warmth in her smile as her eyes lock onto me. “Oh, hello there. You must be the new students,” she says, her voice smooth and welcoming, though her gaze never wavers from mine. It’s not just professional interest; I can see that familiar glint of something more, the same hunger I’ve been dodging since the wasp sting fucked up my life. My skin prickles under her stare as she strides over, her heels clicking confidently on the linoleum floor.

I’m not sure if she’s about to pull me into a hug or what, but I’m not taking any chances. I play it safe, sticking out my hand as she closes the distance and saying, “Nice to meet you.” If my abrupt gesture snaps her out of whatever she’s feeling, she hides it well. She recovers in a heartbeat, clasping my hand in both of hers, her grip firm but warm, her skin soft against mine. “The pleasure is all mine,” she replies, her tone dipping just enough to make it clear she means it in more ways than one. I force a polite smile, my mind racing. Fuck, if I can keep this kind of control over women like her, I might just have this whole damn school wrapped around my finger. The thought is equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

Before I can dwell on it too long, the door swings open again, and in strides a tall, gruff-looking man in a cheap suit that looks like it’s seen better days. His presence fills the room in a way that’s entirely different from Ms. Harper’s—where she’s warm and inviting, he’s cold, hard, and radiating hostility. I can tell right away this guy’s gonna be a problem. His jaw is set, his eyes narrowed as he zeroes in on me, walking straight up until he’s uncomfortably close, looming over me like he’s trying to make me flinch. “I’m Vice Principal Scott Guber,” he growls, his voice low and rough, every word dripping with an attempt to intimidate. “You’re not causing any trouble, are you?”

Normally, I’d snicker at a name like “Guber”—it’s fucking ridiculous—but not with a guy like this. Not gonna lie, I’m pretty damn intimidated. He’s built like a brick wall, and the way he’s staring me down makes my pulse spike. I open my mouth to respond, but before I can get a word out, Ms. Harper steps in, her tone light but firm. “Oh, Scott, this fine young gentleman has just transferred from another school. This is his first day here, so let’s be welcoming.” Her words carry a subtle reprimand, and I can see Guber’s jaw tighten. He’s clearly not happy about being called out, but he’s not about to contradict the principal in front of us. In a short, clipped tone, he mutters, “Welcome to our school,” then turns on his heel and stalks out, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, my shoulders relaxing just a fraction. That guy’s trouble, no question about it. I don’t know if it’s my pheromones or whatever the fuck is going on with me, or if he’s just an asshole to everyone, but I’ve got a bad feeling he’s gonna be watching me like a hawk. I turn back to Ms. Harper, forcing another polite smile. “Thanks for that,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “And thanks again, Ms. Grace, for your help.” Grace practically glows at the mention of her name, her earlier blush returning full force, while Ms. Harper gives me a warm nod, her eyes still lingering on me a little too long.

Figuring now’s the perfect time to get the hell out before anything else can go sideways, I gesture toward the door. “We should probably get going,” I say to Mom and Jess, my tone leaving no room for argument. Jess, who’s been unusually quiet through this whole exchange, just nods, though I catch that hungry look in her eyes again as she glances at me. Mom murmurs a quick thank you to both women, and I usher them out of the office, my hand lightly on Jess’s back to keep her moving. We step back into the hallway, the buzz of students growing louder as the day officially starts to kick off.

As soon as we’re back in the hallway, the door to the admin office clicking shut behind us, Jess practically bursts with excitement, her voice a little too loud for the semi-crowded corridor. “Oh my god, that was so hot watching you take charge in there!” she gushes, her eyes sparkling with that familiar hunger as she steps closer to me, way closer than a sister should in public. Mom’s right there with her, her tone softer but just as proud, a warm smile on her face. “My boy has become such a take-charge man,” she says, inching toward me as well, her hand brushing my arm in a way that’s definitely not casual. The air around us feels charged, their proximity setting off alarm bells in my head. I can feel the stares of passing students, and I know we’re teetering on the edge of looking fucking weird—or worse.

My chest tightens with the realization that this assertiveness I’ve been leaning into, this control I’ve been trying to exert, is a double-edged sword. It works like a charm to keep situations from spiraling with strangers, but with Jess and Mom, it’s like pouring gasoline on a fire. They’re drawn to it, turned on by it, and it’s never gonna fucking end unless I keep a tight leash on every damn interaction. I take a quick step back, creating some much-needed space, and lower my voice to a hushed, urgent tone. “We’re in public,” I hiss, my eyes darting between them to make sure they get the message. It’s like flipping a switch; Jess blinks, her excited grin faltering for a second, and Mom straightens up, her hand dropping to her side as a flicker of embarrassment crosses her face. They both back off just enough to look somewhat normal, though I can still feel the undercurrent of their attraction simmering beneath the surface.