The Alpha PlayBoy Is My Mate.

° Amy's POV °

The sound of shattered glass filled the air as the bottles broke into a thousand pieces. I winced at the noise—the clattering, the crashing. It echoed in my ears as I cast a glance over at the group of men huddled in one corner of the dimly lit bar. They were slumped over, completely wasted, their bodies stinking of cheap alcohol.

“Hey kid, get me more!” one of them shouted, his voice rough and demanding.

Without thinking too much about it, I complied. If they were asking for more, I would give them more—more than enough to ensure they were half-dead by the end of the night. Honestly, I didn’t care, all I wanted was for my shift to end so I could finally go home and escape this crazy night.

My name is Amy Cooper, and this is just a glimpse into my life—a trip into the world of a girl like me.

I never set high standards for myself, but I did value who I was. I had goals and dreams, and I was determined to achieve them. My mom was amazing, a dedicated baker known for her delicious pastries and warm loaves of bread.

But my dad? Well, that's a different story. I grew up without him, and I learned not to dwell on that too much. It's not worth it.

Don’t pity me.

I often reminded myself. I was tougher than I looked.

With my dead stare perfected, I was easily thought of as “unapproachable”.

I didn’t have to deal with bullies in school, unlike the other poor kids.

They tried, of course, but they quickly learned that I wasn’t someone to mess with. They said I was no fun, but honestly? Being vulnerable was not my kinda thing .

Staring at the mirror, I rubbed my lips together countless times, until they reached the perfect shade of pink. It wasn’t that I had someone special to impress—I just enjoyed taking care of myself.

There was something soothing about the little rituals in my life, even if I knew I wouldn’t be smiling much that day.

You could call me a lonely, sarcastic queen if you wanted to. Sarcasm was… after all, my trusty defense mechanism.

“Amy?!” My mother’s voice burst into my thoughts like a sudden storm. She yelled my name, just the way she would yell at the neighbor's dog for lying on our porch and scaring our cat, Fuss, away.

“Please don’t ask me about the flour! The bakers didn’t have any!” I replied, still focused on perfecting my mascara in the mirror.

But my mother, bless her heart, didn’t let it go. “But I need those flour now,” she insisted, barging into my room as if she were on a mission.

I sighed, my shoulders dropping a little as I rolled my eyes.

“Well, the flours need you,” I pouted, as I narrowed my eyes at her .

“And what about the money I gave you for it?” she said, standing with her arms crossed as she tapped her right foot against the floor.

“Oh, about that…” I hesitated, trying to gauge her reaction. I knew that look in her eyes—she understood my message.

“Don’t tell me you spent it on concert tickets!” she exclaimed, and I could see the disbelief on her face.

“It’s my favorite band playing tonight! I can’t miss it—not even for the world! I promise I’ll pay you back once I get my pay from the restaurant,” I pleaded, reaching out as I slowly took her hand in mine.

“Now that’s all I wanted to hear,” she said with a sigh as she snatched her hand away, smiling just a bit.

The truth was, Mom occasionally forgot things, and I had a strong feeling that in a month, she would have forgotten all about the money. I was counting on her somewhat forgetful brain, and it worked in my favor.

School was a whirlwind today—chaotic in all the right and wrong ways. The last thing I needed was a hangover, so I decided that a chilled can of Coke would be the perfect refreshment.

With my heart set on it, I banged my locker shut and dashed out toward the cafeteria.

As I entered the crowded cafeteria, I had no hope of finding Coke in this bustling hive of students.

Everyone seemed to be pushing and shoving for food, and I wondered if I would even be able to get a seat. Just as I was about to turn around and leave, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Coke?” The voice was sharp, clear, and warm, sending pleasant shivers down my spine.

I turned, searching for the source of that voice, and my face lit up when I spotted him. It was Jake, one of the popular boys in school—a good guy known for his charming smile and easygoing nature. He looked at me, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Hey, Amy!” he called out, grinning widely. “Isn’t it a little early for you to be this stressed out?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling back. “You have no idea. I’m just trying to get through today without losing my mind,” I replied, laughing a little.

“Let me help you with that.” He motioned towards the cafeteria line. “I’ll grab us some drinks. What do you want, anything besides Coke?”

“Uhhh, Coke will do,” I replied, feeling a warm flutter in my chest. There was something about his easy charm that made the day a little brighter.

“Coming right up,” he said with a wink before making his way through the crowd. Watching him walk away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe today wouldn

’t be so bad after all.

As I leaned against the wall, I found myself smiling. Perhaps there was more to this school day than just classes and chaos. Maybe I could survive this—one can of Coke at a time.