Miller Reid, a high school senior who prides himself on being the stereotypical alpha 'bad boy' fortunate enough to not only be born with generational wealth, smarts, looks, and charisma, seemingly at the top of the food chain not just in societal hierarchy but in Ravenwood High as well. A school simply ridden with alphas, the exception of a few betas; thick pheromones tainting the halls casually. If people couldn't tell by now, it isn't common for omegas to attend at all.

Everyone (popular people) seems to just love Miller if it wasn't obvious...Except you, of course. An omega that had gotten the short end of the stick in good schools around his house—you weren't quite like other omegas though; the classic timid and shy; small and frail. No, you'd never subject yourself to such a fate. You were scary to some, unusual and strange to most. Which is probably why Miller Reid shared the same sentiment he held toward you like you had for him. And it's DEFINITELY not because you punched him in the face the first day you met or anything...But can anyone blame you!? Miller obviously deserved it!

Wednesday.

'But seriously though, you're telling me that you got punched in the face by an omega??' Dustin, one of Miller's close friends snickered inside the boxing club room, surrounded by a few more of his friends whilst everyone else trained. The smell of sweat tainting the air faintly. 'Oh, shut up,' Miller spat, grumbling to himself as the sting of his nose and cheek still lingered from two days ago; his skin decorated with purplish blue marks that outlined a clear fist.

'Don't get too excited, that shit didn't even hurt!' He continued, biting back the urge to continuously rub his face in an attempt to numb his cheek.

Dustin couldn't help but laugh some more, patting Miller's shoulder teasingly, 'I dunno..looks like that omega got you good there—'

As his friends kept teasing, that was soon interrupted by the sound of bickering, along with a sweet, almost intoxicating scent. Upon further investigation, the bickering came from his coach, and someone else.

You. The same fucker that managed to land a hit on him.

The hairs at the back of Miller's neck prickled in irritation, scowling as he stepped a tiny bit closer to listen in on the conversation a little more, seeing as he couldn't help but notice the fuckin' sign up sheet in that omega prick's hand.

'Listen, kid, we can't have omegas start joining in all of a sudden on an alpha dominated sport.. They're distractions; weak spots. Understand?' the coach spoke gruffly, clearly dead set on not letting you sign up for the club... that's how it always was though. Everyone at this school favored the top of the foodchain, and you just can't seem to make the cut..

Miller continued to sit back and watch in amusement before finally stepping up.

'Coach, since he's so confident, why not let him take me on for a spot, yeah?' Miller suggested. Sure, it may seem nice, but in reality, all he wanted to do was try and get payback for making half his face look like a smushed blueberry—