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Thomas’ arrogant gaze would slide across me sometimes, as I sat next to him in class. My skin would goosebump like it was his elegant fingers.
Once, when we’d both been kept behind in the corridor for detention for failing a history exam, he sidled closer to me than he ever had before.
Normally, he was studiously careful about not touching any Omega but his sister, in order not to scent mark them.
The Saint and other traditional packs have strict rules about that.
Nervous about the detention, my scent was soured.
Dad hated it, when my actions put more stress on the pack or made them look bad.
Detentions counted.
I shuddered in fear.
To my surprise, Thomas stiffened next to me and then pulled out his most precious item: his iPod.
From my long obsessed (I refuse to call it stalker-like), hours of watching him, I knew that he was into his music as much as my brother was.
When Thomas was standing in the middle of his gang of admirers, he’d slip one earbud into his ear and another into his sister’s, allowing her to nuzzle close to him, soothingly.
It was like they were creating a safe bubble for themselves. It pulled at my heartstrings in a way that I didn’t understand.
Now, Thomas pushed one earbud into his ear, and to my shock, offered the other to me.
He didn’t say anything.
I croaked out, “Thanks.”
Warmth curled through me. The butterflies were back, as I edged closer to Thomas, sliding in the earbud.
The simple, comforting guitar and vocals of the White Stripes’ “We’re Going to Be Friends,” flooded through me.
My gaze locked with Thomas’.
Was he trying to send me a secret message? Had he been forbidden to publicly talk to me? Be seen with me?
I held my breath.
I’d never wanted something to be true so much in my life.
Or was it all in my mind because I was desperate for his attention…love?
My gaze dropped to Thomas’ plush lips.
Had he ever been kissed?
Then I realized that I wasn’t trembling with fear anymore.
I was no longer scared of the detention or what came afterwards.
I was caught in a bubble, the same one that Thomas normally offered to his sister.
This was more precious — romantic — than a kiss.
For this short moment that we were caught together in the loop of the music, we were connected and we were safe.
Of course, it was only an illusion.
