❤︎ - Isaac Alderidge || Cute Nerd (OMEGAVERSE)

The Senior Prom posters fluttered faintly every time a locker slammed shut, their glossy corners lifting against the hallway walls as currents of air drifted through the school. Bright gold lettering promised A Night to Remember, glittering beneath strings of printed stars and photos of smiling couples from years past.

Every television mounted in the corridors seemed to play the same looping advertisement between morning announcements—students laughing beneath twinkling lights, slow dancing in expensive clothes, reminders that tickets were selling fast. It was impossible to escape.

Every conversation Isaac overheard seemed to revolve around dresses, tuxedos, reservations, corsages, limousines, after-parties. Seniors who had been counting down to this night since freshman year practically buzzed with excitement.

Even underclassmen spoke about it with envy, already imagining what their own prom would someday be like. Isaac couldn't understand the appeal. To him, Senior Prom wasn't magical. It was suffocating. Too many people packed into one room.

Loud music vibrating through the floor until it settled uncomfortably beneath his ribs. Flashing lights that made his eyes ache. Countless unfamiliar scents mingling together—perfumes, colognes, expensive shampoos, excited alphas unable to keep their pheromones entirely under control.

It sounded less like a celebration and more like a sensory nightmare. He had decided months ago that he simply wouldn't attend. Problem solved... or at least, it should have been. Apparently, the rest of the school had different ideas.

For reasons Isaac couldn't begin to comprehend, alphas had become strangely determined to convince him otherwise. Exactly one week before prom, his phone buzzed during lunch from an unfamiliar number.

Wanna go to prom w me?

He stared at the message for several long seconds. No greeting. No introduction. Not even a name. Just that. Isaac sighed through his nose before replying with nothing more than a facepalming emoji. He blocked the number afterward. Problem solved....

A few days later, another alpha cornered him outside his chemistry classroom, clutching an enormous bouquet of overly dramatic red roses. They stumbled through a rehearsed speech that sounded as though they'd practiced it in front of a mirror for hours. Isaac politely declined before they could even finish.

He accepted the bouquet anyway. The flowers hadn't done anything wrong. Then, to his genuine surprise, a shy omega approached him in the library. Their ears burned crimson before they even reached his table.

"I-I know you'll probably say no..." They couldn't quite meet his eyes. "But...would you maybe want to go together?"

Isaac's expression softened almost immediately. He rejected them just as gently, and offered an apologetic smile. Unlike the alphas, that rejection lingered with him afterward. He hoped they found someone else to enjoy the evening with.

By the time the week drew to a close, Isaac had turned down every invitation he'd received. It wasn't personal. He simply didn't want to go. And then... there was yours. By then, prom tickets were nearly sold out. Most students had already found dates.

Couples wandered the hallways hand in hand, discussing matching outfits and dinner reservations. The excitement around school had reached its peak. Meanwhile, Isaac remained exactly where he always was after classes ended. The library.

The afternoon sun filtered softly through the tall windows, painting warm rectangles across the wooden tables. Dust drifted lazily through golden beams of light while the quiet hum of the ventilation system blended with the occasional rustle of turning pages. Peaceful. Predictable. Comfortable.

Hours slipped by unnoticed as Isaac worked through practice problems, highlighting passages in his textbook and jotting neat notes into the margins. Only when his stomach gave a quiet, protesting growl did he finally glance toward the clock. Later than he'd realized.

He stretched, carefully packed away his notebooks, zipped his bag closed, and slung it over one shoulder before making his way downstairs. The school felt strangely empty now. Most students had already gone home. His footsteps echoed softly through the halls until he reached the front entrance.

The heavy glass doors opened with a gentle push. Warm evening air greeted him instantly. It carried the scent of freshly cut grass from the athletic fields, distant blooming flowers from the landscaping near the entrance, and the lingering warmth of pavement that had spent all day beneath the sun.

The breeze lifted strands of his brown hair, brushing them gently across his forehead. He took one step. Then stopped. His entire body froze. Standing directly outside the school was you. You stood there with both hands hidden behind your back, grinning so broadly you looked almost unbearably pleased with yourself.

There was something oddly boyish about it. Excited. Eager. Like an overgrown golden retriever waiting for praise. It was... almost cute. Isaac's gaze drifted over you. You were dressed far nicer than he had ever seen before. Not formal—not yet—but modern in a way that looked intentionally put together.

Clean lines, well-fitted clothes, sleeves rolled just enough to look effortless despite clearly requiring effort. The reckless football captain Isaac had grown accustomed to seeing covered in grass stains and athletic gear looked...

Handsome. Annoyingly so. Then his attention shifted past you. And immediately found the real spectacle. Five of your football teammates stood several feet behind you. Each one held an enormous decorated poster board with a single letter painted across it. Collectively... they were supposed to spell: P. R. O. M. ?

Instead... Isaac blinked. They currently read: M. O. R. P. ?

"..."

The five of them stared down at their own signs in mounting horror.

”Dude.”

“You switched places!”

”I’ve literally been standing here the whole time!”

“We practiced this!”

Quiet panic erupted among the massive football players as they awkwardly shuffled left and right, nearly bumping into one another while trying to decipher basic alphabetical order. It was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. And despite himself, a quiet laugh escaped Isaac.

Barely more than a soft puff of amusement. Still, it was unmistakably a laugh. You immediately turned your head. Without saying a word, you shot your teammates the most disappointed look imaginable. Every single one of them visibly deflated.

”Shit.”

”My bad.”

”Move!”

”No, you move!”

Within seconds they shoved one another into the correct positions. Finally.

P. R. O. M. ?

Satisfied, you turned back toward Isaac as though absolutely nothing had happened. Then, from behind your back, you revealed what you'd been hiding. A bouquet. Not the cliché arrangement of deep red roses nearly every alpha seemed obligated to buy. These were...

Beautiful. Clusters of tiny white blossoms rested near the front, delicate enough to look almost weightless. Behind them rose elegant stems of soft lavender-blue delphiniums, their petals catching the golden evening sunlight. Purple. His favorite color.

Isaac's eyes lingered there for a heartbeat longer than they probably should have. Bright green leaves framed the flowers naturally without overwhelming them. Even the wrapping looked thoughtfully chosen—simple white paper folded neatly around the stems, tied together with a pale pastel ribbon instead of flashy metallic bows.

Nothing excessive. Nothing loud. Just pretty. It felt deliberate. Like someone had actually paid attention. Your other hand lifted a decorated sign. Unlike your teammates' chaotic posters, yours was carefully made. The lettering was clean, neat, surrounded by tasteful doodles instead of glitter explosions.

It read: ”Let's make people jealous at prom?”

"Isaac," you said. “Wanna go to prom with me?"

There wasn't even the slightest tremor in your voice. No nervous laugh. No uncertainty. No hesitation. Just confidence. The easy sort that came from someone who spent years walking onto football fields convinced they could win every game. It bordered on cockiness. Almost as though you already knew the answer.

That confidence made Isaac hesitate. If this had been anyone else, literally anyone, he would've apologized, said no, and walked away without another thought. But you weren't just anyone. You were the alpha everyone in school seemed to lust over. The football star.

The one teachers reluctantly tolerated because your grades somehow stayed decent despite your reputation. The loud one. The reckless one. The impossibly popular one. The center of nearly every room you entered. And now, every bit of your attention rested solely on him.

Isaac found that strangely difficult to process. After all these years, you had always found reasons to insert yourself into his life. Showing up beside him in the hallway. Stealing the empty seat next to him during assemblies. Walking him halfway home under increasingly ridiculous excuses.

Asking about homework you absolutely didn't need help with. Finding conversations where none were necessary. As the years passed, your confidence only grew. The teasing became gentler. The compliments became harder to dismiss as jokes. The lingering glances became longer. Sometimes...

You even flirted. Blatantly. Isaac had always assumed that was simply your personality. Surely you treated everyone like that. Surely you enjoyed making people flustered. He'd never truly considered, not seriously, that you might actually... like him. Enough to ask him to prom. Enough to remember his favorite color.

Enough to stand outside after school orchestrating this ridiculous, disastrously charming proposal. Silence settled between the two of you. Behind you, your teammates watched with barely concealed anticipation. One of them was already whispering something to another.

Isaac barely heard them. His eyes remained fixed on you. Your expectant smile. The bouquet still extended patiently toward him. The evening breeze stirred loose strands of hair across your forehead. His heartbeat felt strangely louder than it should. Annoying. You were annoying.

Hopelessly cocky. Entirely too confident. And unfairly attractive. After what felt like an eternity, Isaac finally spoke. He didn't accept. But he didn't reject you either. His head tilted just slightly. One brow lifted.

"...Did you lose a bet?" There was the faintest hint of dry amusement in his voice. Partially teasing. Partially entirely genuine.

How had this happened?

Isaac had promised himself—sworn to himself—that he wouldn't attend Senior Prom. He'd made that decision months ago, long before posters began appearing in the hallways and classmates started obsessing over tuxedos and dresses.

The thought of spending an entire evening trapped inside a crowded ballroom sounded exhausting. If given the choice, he'd much rather curl beneath his blankets, order takeout, and spend the evening mindlessly watching videos of golden retrievers running into walls or corgis failing to climb stairs.

That sounded infinitely more enjoyable than loud music, bright lights, forced conversations... and spending the evening with a date he probably didn't even like. He had rejected every invitation that came his way. Text messages. Flowers. Handwritten letters. Even the shy omega who had nervously asked him in the library. Every single answer had been immediate.

”No.”

”I’m sorry.”

”No, thank you.”

Isaac was stubborn. Once he made a decision, he rarely changed it. He wasn't going. End of discussion. Then you happened. Even now, days later, Isaac still couldn't explain what had possessed him to say yes. He replayed that afternoon more often than he'd ever admit.

The evening breeze. Your stupid grin. The laugh that had escaped him before he could stop it. The bouquet. His favorite flowers. His favorite color. The simple white wrapping. The pastel ribbon. None of it had been flashy. None of it screamed look how much money I spent.

It simply felt thoughtful. Intentional. Like somewhere over the years you'd quietly noticed things about him that even some of his friends hadn't. And then there had been your sign. ”Let's make people jealous at prom?” It wasn't cheesy. It wasn't overdramatic. It sounded like you.

Cocky enough to make him roll his eyes. Funny enough to make him want to smile. He still wasn't entirely sure what had come over him. Because he didn't like you...right? That was the conclusion he'd reached years ago.

Ever since freshman year, you'd been nothing more than an obnoxious interruption in his otherwise peaceful life. Always finding him. Always talking to him. Always stealing his attention despite already having everyone else's. The football captain. The popular alpha.

The one who walked through school with people calling your name every five seconds. It had never once crossed Isaac's mind that you might've actually been pursuing him. He'd assumed you were simply like that with everyone. Friendly. Confident. Hopelessly flirtatious. Apparently...

Not. Because people didn't memorize someone's favorite flowers for no reason. They didn't coordinate elaborate promposals. So Isaac had said yes. Even now, he wasn't entirely certain why. Maybe the rumors were true. Maybe nobody really could say no to your stupidly charming smile.

The thought alone irritated him. Because the more he'd considered it afterward, the less terrible the idea had sounded. Sure. You were still irritating. Still unbearably confident. Still far too attractive for your own good. But maybe, just maybe, one evening wouldn't kill him.

...

He had been spectacularly wrong. The regret began the second he slipped into his tuxedo. He stood before his bedroom mirror, adjusting the neatly tied bow tie for what had to be the tenth time. Everything felt wrong. The crisp dress shirt scratched faintly against his neck. His polished shoes felt unnaturally stiff.

Even the expensive jacket restricted his shoulders more than he liked. Formal clothing always felt oddly vulnerable. The scent suppressant patch resting discreetly beneath the collar of his shirt tugged slightly against his skin whenever he moved.

The school had strongly encouraged every alpha and omega attending Prom to wear suppressant patches alongside light scent blockers. Not because anyone expected trouble, but because dozens of emotional eighteen-year-olds packed into one ballroom was practically a disaster waiting to happen.

Excitement. Stress. Nervousness. Strong emotions had a way of making instincts harder to suppress. Isaac had reluctantly complied. Even through the suppressant, however, his senses remained far sharper than everyone else's. Which was exactly why the ballroom became overwhelming almost immediately.

The rented venue sparkled beneath hundreds of tiny hanging lights. Crystal chandeliers reflected against polished marble floors. Silver decorations shimmered beneath rotating disco lights while balloons drifted lazily near the impossibly high ceiling. It was beautiful. And painfully loud.

Music pounded through hidden speakers, vibrating beneath his shoes before echoing inside his chest. Dozens—no, hundreds—of scents overlapped into something nearly dizzying. Sweet perfumes. Expensive colognes. Fresh flowers decorating every table. Champagne. Fancy catered food.

Suppressed alpha pheromones lingering just beneath the surface despite everyone's best efforts. Isaac fought the urge to turn around and leave. Then, every head seemed to turn toward the entrance. Toward the two of you. His stomach dropped. Whispers spread through the ballroom almost instantly.

”They actually came together.”

”No way.”

”I thought Isaac hated him.”

”They look good together.”

Isaac wished the polished floor would simply swallow him whole. Meanwhile, you barely seemed to notice. Or perhaps you noticed and simply didn't care. You smiled at people naturally, greeting classmates as though this level of attention was as ordinary as breathing. Of course it was.

You lived in attention. Thrived in it. Students called your name from across the ballroom. Someone clapped your shoulder. Another pulled you briefly into a side hug. One of your teammates nearly knocked you sideways while laughing loud enough for half the room to hear. Teachers greeted you.

Underclassmen waved. You answered everyone. Effortlessly. Isaac... did not. Without really thinking, his fingers curled around your arm. Not tightly. Just enough to stay close. He froze the instant he realized what he'd done. How embarrassing. Yet, you never commented on it.

You didn't tease him. Didn't smirk. Didn't even look down. You simply slowed your pace ever so slightly, naturally matching his shorter stride through the crowd. The tiny adjustment warmed him more than he'd expected. Eventually, after what felt like navigating an ocean of people, the two of you reached your assigned table.

Isaac exhaled quietly as he sat down. Finally. A moment to breathe. The ballroom remained alive around them. Music continued thundering from enormous speakers. Colored lights swept lazily across the ceiling.

Nearby, three overly excited alphas somehow managed to knock over an entire pitcher of fruit punch, sending their table into loud, dramatic chaos. Someone shouted. Someone laughed. Someone slipped. Isaac wasn't entirely sure what happened after that. He decided not to look.

Instead, he folded his hands neatly in his lap. What exactly was someone supposed to do at prom? He'd never been much for parties. Never understood dancing. Never liked being watched. And certainly had never attended one with a date. Awkward silence settled between you two. At least...

It should have. Instead, you stayed. You didn't disappear the second someone called your name. You didn't abandon him for the dance floor. You didn't leave him alone at the table while you bounced between friend groups. You stayed. Beside him. Calmly. It was strange.

Isaac couldn't remember ever seeing you so still. The reckless football captain who was usually incapable of sitting down for more than thirty seconds simply leaned back in his chair beside him, talking comfortably over the music.

Most of the conversation consisted of you speaking and Isaac offering the occasional short answer. You never seemed bothered. Never pressured him. Never complained about his quietness. Every few minutes one of your friends wandered over. They'd steal a chair. Tell some ridiculous story.

Attempt to convince you to join whatever chaos they'd started. Then eventually wander away again after failing to drag either of you with them. Waiting. Surely you'd grow bored eventually. Surely you'd realize sitting beside the quiet omega wasn't nearly as exciting as spending prom with everyone else.

Yet each time, you came right back. Sliding into the chair beside him as though there was nowhere else you'd rather be. Something warm settled unexpectedly inside Isaac's chest. Followed immediately by guilt. This wasn't fair to you. You should've been dancing. Isaac watched each interaction carefully.

Laughing. Taking photos. Making memories with your friends. Instead, you were sitting with the world's most boring prom date. His fingers tightened around the edge of his napkin. Maybe he should at least suggest getting drinks together. Or walking around. Anything. Before he could gather the courage to speak—

The music changed. The pounding bass faded. Conversations quieted. The flashing lights softened into a warm amber glow that washed across the ballroom. A collective murmur spread through the room. Then, the unmistakable opening notes drifted gently through the speakers.

”Wise men say...”

"Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley began to play.

Isaac's eyes widened.

"...You've got to be kidding me."

Around the ballroom, couples smiled knowingly. Hands found hands. Partners stood. One by one, students stepped onto the dance floor until dozens of pairs slowly began swaying beneath the lights. It looked almost unreal.

Like something lifted straight from one of those coming-of-age romance movies he'd secretly watched late at night. For several moments, Isaac simply stared. Motionless. Then, he heard your chair scrape softly across the floor. Before he fully realized what was happening, warm fingers slipped carefully around his hand.

Not forceful. Not demanding. Just gentle. An invitation. Isaac startled so badly his shoulders jumped. His pulse lurched. He looked up. The amber lights caught across your features, softening the confident edges he knew so well. For once, you weren't wearing that cocky grin. Instead, your smile was smaller. Hopeful.

"Let's dance." You said. Your voice was quiet enough that only he could hear it beneath the music. You gave his hand the faintest tug. His heart skipped so violently he wondered if you could somehow feel it through your intertwined fingers. For one impossible second, everything else disappeared.

The music. The ballroom. The conversations. Even the overwhelming scents surrounding them faded beneath the comforting familiarity of yours—a clean, warm cedarwood scent softened by fresh rain, muted beneath suppressants yet unmistakably you. It grounded him.

Made something instinctive deep inside him want to step closer. His breath caught. The lights reflected in your eyes. You looked ridiculously handsome. Dangerously so. Isaac felt heat bloom across his face. His pulse climbed even higher. He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't—

No. He jerked himself back to reality. This was ridiculous. It was just a dance. People were watching. He'd embarrass himself. He'd probably trip over his own feet. His hand slipped reluctantly from yours.

"Oh..." His voice came out smaller than intended. He laughed once beneath his breath, more out of nervousness than amusement. God. Why was he nervous? You'd been bothering him for four years. He'd argued with you. Insulted you. Rolled his eyes at you more times than he could count.

He'd never, never, been nervous around you before. A shy smile tugged at his lips despite himself. He shook his head.

"No." His gaze dropped to the floor. "I-I can't dance."