Page 11 of Faking It with the Omega

“Thank you for feeding me. I might have eaten half the buffet,” I say, returning the hug. Even her scent is faintly reminiscent of her brother’s, although it doesn’t have the same effect on me, thank god.

“I haven’t seen Aid this happy in… I don’t know how long,” she murmurs, pulling back but holding my shoulders tight. “Even though it can be hard to tell sometimes.”

“Tell me about it,” I chuckle, although it comes out breathless, and my face suddenly feels too warm. “He’s got the poker face to end all poker faces.”

“Well, I know when he’s happy. And this is the real deal.” Her smile turns a little sad. “Our parents give him kind of a hard time. They always have, Dad especially. It’s—” she shakes her head. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m just trying to say that you seem wonderful, and Aid deserves someone wonderful in his life, because he’s wonderful.”

I’m starting to suspect that Lucie may have had a few glasses of wine, but her words sink all the way to the pit of my stomach anyway, filling me with a warmth that’s more than a little confusing.. “Yeah,” I reply quietly. “He does. He is.”

She rubs my shoulder, her eyes crinkling just like Aid’s do when I manage to pull a smile out of him. “But we’ll see you at the wedding, right? You’re officially invited, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Oh, I, um—”

“You’re coming,” she says. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Okay,” I say before I can stop myself. “Of course we’ll be there.”

I’m not sure how someone can be so physically intimidating and so painfully sweet at the same time, but Aiden’s nailing it right now in the passenger seat of my car.

“I think you’re a little drunk, Aid.”

“I think you’re a little drunk, Jed,” he parrots back to me, ending my name with an exaggerated duh sound, his curls bouncing as he says it.

“I had half a beer four hours ago and just drove you home, so I hope not,” I say, pulling up outside his apartment building and turning off the engine.

Aiden closes his eyes and leans back against the headrest, taking a deep, tired breath. “Are we there yet?” he murmurs.

“That’s why we’ve stopped moving,” I chuckle.

“Have we?” He frowns. “Still feels like we’re moving to me.”

“You’re cute when you’re drunk,” I say.

His frown deepens, his eyes still closed. “No one ever calls me cute. I’m too drunk—I mean, I’m too big to be cute.”

“You can be big and cute,” I say, turning off the ignition so it suddenly feels eerily quiet. “They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Hmmm.” There’s a long silence, where I’m staring at Aiden and he’s got his eyes closed, his breathing steady. I’ve never noticed how long his eyelashes are before. “Hey, Jed?”

“Yeah?”

“Before I go…”

“Hmm?”

“Wouldyoumaybescentmeagain?”

He cracks an eye open as I chuckle at the nonsensical babble. “You’re going to have to repeat that. I have no idea what you just said.”

“Jesus Christ, Jed,” he says, sounding more like his usual sardonic self, but his cheeks are flushed when he says it again, more clearly this time: “Would you, maybe, scentmeagain?”

He rushes through the last part, but this time I catch it, and my heart just about flops over itself when I realize what he’s asking.

“It was nice, earlier,” he says, so softly it’d be hard to hear it if it weren’t completely silent in the confined space of my car. “Even before the… other stuff. That was nice too, though. And I feel sort of weird.”

“Of course I will,” I breathe without hesitation, kind of wanting to wrap him up and carry him upstairs. “C’mere.”

I lean in, over the console, and Aiden’s hesitant to do the same until his nostrils flare and he takes a deep breath of the pheromones I’m pushing out. Then he moves closer, until our cheeks are nearly touching and the scent glands on our necks are an inch apart. My hand finds his, pressing our wrists together. His fingers slot through mine.