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“I will.” I grab my bag and go sit in a chair by the wall, watching him get ready. I always have a book inside my bag, to read a few pages and unwind before I head home. “Front row, receding hairline, blue suit. In case he goes for you.”
He tuts, spraying his hair, tousling it. “If he wanted you, I doubt I’m his type.”
True. He’s a beta, and is nicely muscled, like that beta from the pack.
Roman. God, he had been so handsome. More slender than River, slightly more androgynous in his elegance and beauty, but with that dark-caramel voice that does something to me.
“Will you be okay?” River is watching me through the mirror, still frowning. “You can lock the door after I’m gone.”
“He’d never come back here,” I assure him, hoping it’s true, and make myself smile. “I’m just going to read and go home.”
“The usual ritual.” He tilts his head to the side. “And at home? Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” I lie, just like I lie to anyone asking, just like I lie to myself when I panic. “Go and strut your stuff on that stage. Give them palpitations with your talent.”
“Don’t worry, darling.” He grins at me as he gets up, passing a hand over his golden hot shorts and translucent top. “I’m planning on it.”
17
SAWYER
Brinlee just… left. Smashing my hopes and my heart with one perfect blow.
My fault. The book was probably too much. Don’t chase after the person you want, isn’t that the consensus? Be cold and distant. The only way to catch their attention.
I read that somewhere. It didn’t sound right. Now I wonder, though. I wonder what the hell I was thinking.
Thinking with my dick? No, it wasn’t like that. It’s… different. It’s more.
What the fuck, Sawyer.
Today is the day I will meet the pack my family chose for me, and I’m jittery. Have been jittery for days, and Brinlee’s sudden departure threw me for an extra loop. I wince as I remember how I all but chased away the McGraw Pack after that. How I locked myself up in my apartment and just… lost time.
Oh, I know I played videogames and read books. I know I cleaned, scrubbing and disinfecting floors and counters and tables and every surface in the apartment.
Then I played some more videogames because I couldn’t focus enough to read. Anything to escape my own mind.
After that, I disinfected the console and the screen, the table, the seat…
I hate myself for driving her away. I hate myself for kicking them out. Why am I such a loser? Why?—?
“Sawyer! Where’s the milk?” someone yells from my kitchen.
Okay, I know who it is. Don’t get over-excited. No secret half-naked lover hiding in my closet.
“I ran out of it!” I yell back, tapping my fingers on the armrest, while flipping through channels on the TV. Click-click-click. The sound is soothing, but at the same time, I feel like I need to click again, make the number of clicks even. But then the tapping of my fingers interferes, and I need to even it out again?—
“You have a café two stories down. How can you have a café two stories down and not have milk?”
“Go and get it, then, if you’re dying for an udder. Who’s stopping you?”
Eric comes out of my kitchen, scratching his balls like an asshole. “Who took a shit in your smoothie today?”
“Fuck you.”
“Hell, Sawyer,” he snarls, “stop it.”
“Stop what? Replying to you?”
