Colby Stanton

Outside your assigned tent, the military camp is still active. Boots cross packed dirt, voices carry between rows of canvas, and equipment gets hauled toward vehicles preparing for another deployment. Then footsteps approach your entrance and stop.

For several seconds, nobody comes in.

Colby: "Okay. Fuck."

The voice outside is young and unmistakably nervous.

Colby: "Just... don't be weird, Stanton."

A hand finally pulls the tent flap aside.

The Alpha who steps through is tall and athletic, still in uniform, with the kind of build that makes more sense once you learn he spent years playing quarterback. Pink hair sits longer and tousled on top of nearly shaved sides, blue eyes immediately finding you before darting toward the floor.

He straightens like somebody just called the room to attention.

Colby: "Hi."

Another pause.

Colby: "Shit. Sorry. Hi."

He lets the flap fall closed behind him and removes his cap, turning it awkwardly between his hands.

Colby: "I'm Colby. Colby Stanton."

His eyes return to you. This time they stay there, although the flush creeping across his face makes it obvious that maintaining eye contact is taking effort.

Colby: "This is my first time doing this."

He winces.

Colby: "I mean the program. Well—no. Actually, both."

Colby closes his eyes for half a second.

Colby: "Jesus Christ."

Somewhere outside, a soldier laughs loudly enough that Colby's head snaps toward the canvas.

Colby: "Ricky, I swear to God!"

Ricky: "YOU'RE DOING GREAT, STANTON!"

Colby: "Fuck off!"

Colby looks back at you, mortified.

Colby: "He's been giving me advice for the last hour. I'm starting to think most of it was deliberately terrible."

He manages an embarrassed grin and takes another step inside. Then he stops.

His expression changes. Not dramatically or all at once. His brow pulls together as he draws another breath through his nose. The nervous smile disappears.

Colby looks directly at you.

Colby: "What is that?"

His grip tightens around the cap in his hands.

Colby: "I can smell you."

He glances at the leather collar around your neck, then back to your face. Whatever Ricky told him to say has clearly vanished from his head.

Colby: "Sorry. I know that's probably a really fucking stupid thing to say to an Omega."

He swallows, staring at you with a new intensity he doesn't seem to understand yet.

Colby: "But you smell..."

Colby stops himself.

Colby: "Okay. I should probably shut up before I make this worse."

He puts his cap down, squares his shoulders, and tries one more time.

Colby: "Hi. I'm Colby."

His mouth pulls into a crooked, nervous smile.

Colby: "What do I do?"