frat alpha harry (a/o/b)

mates ii*

To: Y/N

Are you ignoring me?

Y/N quickly swipes out of her text thread with Harry and locks her phone. It's been a little over a week since they met at his frat's party, and it's safe to say that she's been... overwhelmed by the possibility of him being her mate.

It's not that he did anything to make her uncomfortable, or he doesn't seem like a nice guy — all the opposite, actually. After they kissed, there was no follow-up on his end to try to convince her to stay over or sleep with them. They just talked, about everything and anything, ranging from their go-to coffee order to their most embarrassing childhood stories. It was only when Y/N realized her phone was blowing up with panicked texts from Lea and Paige that she decided to head home, but not without exchanging numbers with Harry and a sweet forehead kiss.

It was nice. But Y/N wasn't ready to settle down, and she'd never even thought the whole mates thing was real! And now she just had this knowledge that this man who seemed like he could be her mate was gorgeous and kind and lived all but 10 minutes away from her and — it was just all too much.

So that's why she's ignoring him.

...

"She here?"

Harry tears his attention from staring down the front door, glancing at Noah, one of his frat brothers. He grumbles in response and takes a sip of his lukewarm beer.

"Dude, she's probably not your mate if she doesn't wanna see you," he continues, but Harry shrugs, searching through the crowded room to see if she or any of her friends came to their party tonight. "I'm just saying, you're probably driving yourself crazy over some omega girl that just fucked with your head."

"She wouldn't do that." Harry mutters through a clenched jaw. "It's not like that."

"Whatever, man."

He doesn't pay attention as Noah walks away, already pulling his phone out to see if she's replied to any of his messages from the past week.

Unsurprisingly, there isn't a thing.

...

After Harry forces himself up to bed, he wakes up to his phone vibrating on his nightstand. Through squinted eyes, he sees that the call is coming from an unknown number but in a sleepy haze, he still answers.

"Is this Harry?" a panicked voice sounds through the receiver.

"Uh... yeah," he croaks, clearing his throat, "Who is this?"

"Lea. Y/N's friend."

His eyes snap open and he sits up, his chest starting to ache the more he awakens.

"Listen, I don't really know much about this, like I remember learning about in school growing up but I've never seen it happen but, um— Y/N's like, really sick, and I think she needs you."

"What do you mean she's sick?" he fires back, throwing the comforters off his body. He presses the 'speaker' button and grabs a pair of sweatpants to throw on, quickly shimmying them up his legs.

"She's in her heat, I think, and it came out of nowhere. We live together, so I usually can tell when it's coming by the way she's acting or her scent," Lea explains, "But she— she woke up not too long ago and she's sweating and feverish. She told me what happened at the party, how she thinks you two might be mates and it's the first thing I thought of— I don't know if I should take her to the hospital—"

"Don't do that," Harry cuts her off, the thought of people poking and prodding her when she's in such a vulnerable state sending a shiver down his spine, "I'm coming. Send me your address."