REWRITING A 180 Degree Turn

A 180 Degree Turn [BoyXBoy] Chapter 2

TWO

 

 

[Dylan’s Point Of View]

This will be so fun. I’m going to have a new gopher. Hot girls included in the package. If he becomes my slave, I’m pretty sure that those girls are going with him seeing as they’re stuck to him like glue.

But I’m not interested in either of those girls. It’s just that my idiot best friend imprinted on one of D’Angelo’s friends and I need to get them together. At first, my plan was to set his imprint and my best friend on a blind date, but seeing as opportunity ran in front of me earlier, I took it. Now I have a queer of a servant. Oh, the things I do for friendship.

“Dyl, bro,” my best friend, Keith comes up to me and we did our friendship handshake. He was, as most wolves call, my soon-to-be “beta” or second-in-command after my father, the current and the history’s strongest, alpha.

Until a few a few years ago, my beta was supposed to be my asshole cousin, but Keith just upped and now, I need to choose which I wanted for my beta. I’d choose Keith over that monkey anytime.

“So, how’s the plan going?”

“K, change of plans, but either way, I’m getting you hooked up with that Bailey-“

“Hailey.” Keith corrected. He just found out Hailey was his mate last week when he bumped into her and when they touched, it just clicked. He didn’t tell me until yesterday and now I’m helping him get his mate.

“-Hailey, Shelly, Mandy, whatever. Anyway, I’ve got a plan to get you two together.”

“Really? Nothing illegal, right?” He asked cautiously.

“Nothing too illegal.” I shrugged as we walked our way to the cafeteria as the lunch bell rings and students flooded the hall.

“How’d you do it?” He said entering the large cafeteria. As always, people parted where we walked like I were Zeus himself.

“Stop.” I tell him and he eyed me, confused, “I’ll get someone to buy our lunch. I’ve got myself a lackey.”

“You sure it’s not some fuckbuddy?” He raised a brow as we sat in our usual seat in the center of the room. A lot greeted us and I just waved them off. Keith asked, “Who is it?”

I grinned proudly, “D’Angelo.”

His eyes widened and looked at me in disbelief. He couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Though Gabriele D’Angelo was a queer, he was totally off-limits and no one messes with him unless they wanted their faces redecorated or suicidal or both because of his personal bodyguards. And they are girls. And it’s really wimpy. But effective.

Even my pack members stay away from him. He doesn’t like drawing attention to himself and whenever you talk to him, he keeps his eyes on his shoes or the floor or maybe the wall. No one but his “girls” has his face properly. I’ve heard girls say he’s good-looking if he had more confidence. But then again, I’ve also heard he’s a martial artist. Seeing as he was beaten up pretty badly two years ago, those are lies.

After a while, Keith managed to say, “Blasphemy!”

I was about to argue when Gabriele D’Angelo walked up to our lunch table with his head down, looking as nervous as always. I smelled him before I saw him. He smelled good for a guy. A mix of expensive European perfume, fresh strawberries with a hint of earth and Everyone in the “popular” table hushed and stared at him with disgust and hatred while some stared at him in confusion and curiosity.