DEDICATION: tugalicious :)

Beta Ezra Harland was done.

He had finally had enough of all the mushiness around him.

Why was every single person he knew mated? Like, seriously. They were only nineteen for Goddess' sakes. They were supposed to be having fun at this age. There was plenty of time to get serious. After all, most humans settled down only in their mid to late twenties or even in their thirties. No one in the human world batted an eye if you were nineteen and single. Why couldn't it be the same for werewolves?

'Shut up. You're gonna jinx it. Do you really wanna wait fifteen fucking years to meet our mate?'

That voice inside his head? That was his wolf, his inner-animal, and the reason for the empty feeling that sometimes filled Ezra when he glanced over at his happily-mated brother and best friend. If it weren't for the wolf inside him longing to meet his mate all the time or these traditional, werewolf societal norms in which everyone was expected to find their mate within a couple of years after turning sixteen, he was pretty sure he wouldn't feel this way.

What he was feeling, it almost resembled envy. Heck, maybe it was envy. But he wasn't jealous of his brother and his best friend, but of what they had. It was no secret that they had gone through lots of drama and had made a ton of stupid mistakes before they had finally acknowledged their love for each other, but in the end, they had managed it.

Something Ezra was starting to doubt he'd ever do.

Not because he thought he couldn't wade through the inevitable romance drama, but because he was starting to lose hope of ever finding the perfect woman any time soon. It looked like he'd probably end up making history like that one man who had supposedly found his mate in his sixties.

Maybe he'd even break that record.

'Would you quit the moping!? We'll find her. Just shut up, already!' His wolf barked at him, making him sigh quietly to himself.

It was a never-ending fight between the two of them. Technically, it was kind of like fighting with his own conscience, because contrary to popular belief, the wolf was not a separate person. It was only a part of his own soul. But that didn't deter them from having different opinions.

'Yeah, I wouldn't have to, if only you had been able to lead me to our Mate,' Ezra snapped back, feeling that familiar restlessness envelop him, that need to do something, but being unable to pinpoint exactly what it was.

While his words might seem harsh, they were true on a factual level. Despite the man and the wolf being parts of the same whole, for some twisted reason, the Moon Goddess had bestowed only the animal with the ability to recognize their soulmate. Maybe it had something to do with a wolf's keen sense of tracking or whatever, but only the animal side of a werewolf could help the human find their mate.

But Ezra's wolf, on the other hand? He was of no help in that department. He was always being pulled in two different directions, and whenever he tried to decide on something, there were actual tornadoes wreaking havoc inside of him, making him feel like his brain was sending signals too fast for him to decipher. It made Ezra go absolutely nuts, making him crave so many different things all at once that he could never settle on just one, and at times, it was too much for him to handle.

It was like the decision he was seeking to make, or the meaning behind those confusing thoughts he kept having, was right under his conscious memory, very close to reaching, but not close enough.

It was never close enough.

He had lived his whole life in a myriad of confusing thoughts. As a kid, he had thought that that was how it was for everyone. That every time a person was presented with the option of choosing something, they would feel this overwhelming need to have it all for a moment before they could calm themselves down and try to reason with their so-called 'inner greed', but he had learned the hard way that that wasn't the case.

His parents had always treated him differently from his sister, who was calm as a still lake in comparison to his turbulent seas. At first, he had thought that she was the weird one, but as time had passed, he had realized that it was actually the other way around.

When the teacher had asked their kindergarten class what they wanted to play, he had been the only one who had shouted at the top of his lungs, 'football, and swings, and dinosaurs, and hide and seek'.

Apparently, it was wrong to want everything at once.

Even back then, kids had started to distance themselves from the weird kid who couldn't sit still for more than a minute, the one who kept talking, talking, and talking, the one who could never make up his damn mind.

Soon, he'd had no one to talk to. It had been a miserable few years of his life.

Until third grade had rolled around. He had then met this quiet girl who had been the exact opposite of him. Whereas he had been pushed aside for talking too much, she had been excluded because she didn't. That had fascinated Ezra because the girl had been like a robot. She did everything with practiced ease like she had done it a hundred times before, made making choices seem like it was nothing, and spoke in two-worded sentences that were precise, and to the point.

Turned out she didn't mind that he spoke enough for both of them combined.

That had been the beginning of a friendship that was stronger than any familial bonds he had experienced.

Life had gone by, and Ezra had had no qualms being the social outcast as long as he had his Alpha-friend by his side. He had been very happy, in spite of the silent disapproval from his parents all his life. He had no clue why they always appraised him with that look in their eye when he had done literally nothing to deserve it. He tried to reason with himself that if they didn't want to love him despite his quirks, it was their loss.

All that had changed when his best friend met her mate, Micajah Rye, who ended up being the half-brother Ezra hadn't known he'd had. Up until then, Ezra hadn't minded the "single" thing much. His best friend hadn't found her mate either, so he had quenched his thirst for an emotional bond with the quiet love she gave him and had satisfied his sexual urges elsewhere.

It wasn't ideal, but it had sufficed.

But now that his friend was no longer available at his beck and call, he had started noticing the lack of a person beside him big time. That did nothing but increase the number of women he took to bed, which, as time passed by, was making him feel seriously guilty.

Like he was cheating on someone.

He knew that it was just his wolf and his subconscious playing tricks on him, that what he was doing was technically okay, but he still had no clue if he really was doing the right thing. All he knew was that he needed to stop thinking so damn much, and sex was one way to go about it.

Sometimes, Ezra wondered if the Goddess was delaying the crossing of his path with his "one, true love" because of his stupid decisions; his impulsiveness.

Maybe the Goddess had decided that he needed to start acting more mature before he deserved to meet his mate. In that case, he was fucked, because 'mature' and 'Ezra Harland' had never been pronounced in the same sentence before.

Wasn't that why his Alphas/best friends had been endlessly pestering him about college? Even they thought he needed to start acting more mature. They hadn't said as much, but Ezra could feel it.

It must be.

"It's here!"

Speak of the devil.

"It is here!" Micajah crowed again as he dashed into the living room, a wide grin the size of Texas splitting his always-cheerful face in two. A thump and a muffled curse were heard upstairs before his best friend, Seneca, ran out of her room in excitement, coming to a halt on the top of the stairs. A grin rivaling the size of her mate's was plastered on her face. Instead of taking the said stairs like any normal person or wolf would, the Alpha put a hand on the railing and jumped, twisting her body mid-air and landing on the marble floor gracefully before sprinting across the expanse of the room to reach the couch where Ezra was sitting on.

Needless to say, he was less than excited at the prospect of college, because to him, it entailed changing himself. Something he wasn't happy to do, yet.

"Open it!" Micajah shoved the three thick envelopes into Seneca's hand, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"No! You're the lucky one! You open it!" Seneca shoved it right back at him, making Ezra sigh in exasperation.

These couples in love were disgustingly sappy.

"You do it!" Micajah shook his head, trying to give it back to his mate.

"No, you—"

"Would someone just open it already?" Ezra rolled his eyes and snatched the envelopes out of Micajah's hands, holding the three of them together before tearing off their tops at the same time in one quick motion.

"There." He inverted it, making all its contents tumble into his lap. He picked out the three letters, putting aside the shiny pamphlets, maps, and other stuff.

Even before unfolding the ivory-colored paper, he knew what it was going to say, and considering the wide grins on his friends' faces, they knew it too. He picked it up anyway and read the first line in an attempt to humor them, "Dear, Ms. Mordecai, we are happy to inform you that your application to the University of Hillbridge has been accepted—"

"OMG! YES!" Seneca leaped forward in joy, and Ezra thought she was going to start making out with her mate as usual. To his surprise, both his friends climbed onto the couch and wrapped their arms around him instead, squishing him in an unwanted group hug.

"Ew, lemme go!" He exclaimed, trying in vain to break free from their strong, Alpha grip, "Don't you want me to read the other two?"

Micajah ignored his comment and laughed, the sound echoing in his ears a few decibels too high because of his close proximity, "We're going to Hillbridge!"

"Yes! We're going to Hillbridge, baby! Woo-hoo!" Seneca echoed, her voice so loud in his other ear that he thought she might've damaged one of his eardrums permanently.

Ezra sighed. Looked like he didn't have to make a choice anymore.

This college . . . I might finally become "mature", after all . . .

~

Theon Berkeley was bored.

He was bored with his school, bored with his part-time job in his Dad's shop, bored with the girls who constantly kept trying to ask him out, bored with his whole damned town.

Hell, he was bored with his life.

He didn't think he could take such boredom any longer. He had been feeling this way all his life. A general disinterest in everything surrounding him. This inexplicable apathy, this feeling of absolutely nothing when he thought about anything or anyone surrounding him.

He had never felt a true, passionate emotion for anything in his life.

That was a lie.

He had once felt that kind of emotion. One time. This deep, endless love that was beyond measure. The knowledge that he would do absolutely anything to keep that person happy.

But it hadn't been enough.

He hadn't been enough. If his love for his mother really had been that deep, he should've been able to protect her, should've been able to keep her safe. He should've been the one out there on the battlefield that night.

But fate was cruel, and it had ripped away the only person that had ever mattered to him in his existence. Years ago, even when she had been alive, he had thought it was weird that he had never felt any sort of connection to his "friends" and pack members. He had been sadly mistaken, because the word apathy had gotten a whole new meaning after his mom had left them forever.

Soon, Oxford dictionary would put up a picture of him in the place of the definition of the word "apathetic".

It was that bad.

His sort of friend, Kyle Houseman, sometimes joked that if Theon kept it all bottled up so hard, it was going to burst and spill all over the place one day. He kept insisting that again and again, saying that Theon secretly liked to care about things, but liked to put on a carefree, badass exterior. He said it so many times that Theon had started to wonder whether or not that might be the case.

He had started to really believe that he was as good as Kyle was making him out to be.

He should be, right? After all, was there a person in this world who literally couldn't care about anything? No. It was an impossibility, he had decided.

The same impossibility that had been proved to be the truth when Kyle had moved away the previous summer, the one between junior and senior year. The news had come as a surprise to Theon, seeing as Kyle had been the only guy he had considered an acquaintance, a friend of sorts all through middle school, but even at the very last moment, as he had watched Kyle's car pull away, he had felt absolutely nothing.

That had to mean that something was wrong, right?

He didn't care about that, either.

"Son, you've got mail." His father passed through the open door of his room without knocking, not even bothering to make eye contact as he dropped the thick envelope on the edge of his bed and left.

"Thank you," Theon mumbled anyway as he put aside the book he had been reading, pushing himself off the mountain of pillows he had been lounging on. His bed wasn't very large, akin to the size of his room and his house; moderate, yet comfortable—all thanks to the warrior position his mother had had in their pack.

The same position that had cost them her life.

It should make him feel bitter that his dad had stopped being the cheerful man he had once been. It should make him want to try to put back his family into the whole it had once been. But like all things, nothing fazed him.

He thought it was good that his dad hadn't ended up killing himself like some people did after their mate's death. His dad might not be very happy, but at least, he was alive.

He shook his head to himself and picked the envelope up. He remembered applying several months ago, mainly because his AP Physics teacher had been adamant that her star student should definitely apply to the most sought-after college. He hadn't thought much about it at that time and had done it to just get her to stop asking him about it, but it looked like the recommendation letter his teacher had sent had worked enough for the college to take his application seriously.

His perfect grades hadn't hurt either, he supposed.

He tore the top of the envelope away carefully, making sure to not accidentally tear the papers within. He wondered for a second what he would do if he had been accepted, but then shrugged and got to reading the letter.

"Dear Mr. Berkeley,

We are happy to inform you that your application to the University of Hillbridge has been accepted . . ."

He stopped reading, letting the letter fall from his hands and flutter onto his bedspread, feeling emotion for the first time in a while.

So, he had been accepted. Something he had not seen coming at all.

Reading further, he realized that his stats and position in the basketball team, combined with his stellar grade point average had actually scored him a full ride.

He wouldn't have to ask his father to pay tuition, and he might finally be able to break free of this miniature town and its judgemental eyes. He'd be able to blend in and no one would ever see him as the boy who lost his mother.

He'd finally free of this boredom.

He guessed his choice was obvious. He was going to do this.

This college . . . I might finally have a chance to fulfill my mother's dreams, after all . . .

~

Alpha Nyah Pineda was tired.

She was tired of dealing with the responsibility of ruling a pack at just nineteen. She knew it was customary for all Alpha heirs to take over at eighteen, and she knew it was what every single Alpha heir out there did, but she was just so tired.

Tired of her Dad's expectations.

Tired of a sexist Beta who thought only men were fit to be Alphas.

Tired of people pausing their conversations every time she entered the room.

Tired of just about everything.

She couldn't help but feel that way in the privacy of her own head, because it wasn't her who had been destined to become the Alpha of her pack. It was her older brother, Estevan, who had been groomed from a very young age to take on the responsibilities. It wasn't her whom her pack members had rooted for to accept the title.

No, she was just the replacement.

'No, we have Alpha blood in our veins. Second-born or not, it's in our bones to lead, to protect the ones we care about. So, shut up.' Her wolf howled, making her feel like a hypocrite.

That was because there had been an incident in her pack the previous year, when a few guys had dared to mutter under their breath that she was just the second choice, a temporary fill-in until someone better would come along and take over.

Let's just say that she had barely let the men go alive.

After going to such measures to prove that she could do it, that she was, indeed, strong enough, that she could deal with the demands of this role, she should really start trying to be more easy on herself. Second choice or not, she had been the Alpha for a whole year by then. The pack was doing marginally well, and aside from some supervision and basic paperwork, there was literally not much that she had to do. The pack functioned perfectly like a well-oiled machine.

All thanks to her father, the previous Alpha's great management.

Her father, the man whom she had idolized up until four years ago, who had broken the heroic image she'd had of him in her head when he had kicked out her older brother for being gay.

She had vowed to herself that night, that she would never forgive him for that.

The same way she had vowed to get her brother justice.

The only problem with that plan was that he was missing.