Chapter 12 #3
Emitt wisely takes another step back, sure not to meet my eyes.
“It’s Wednesday,” he mumbles, his head ducking under my spiteful gaze. “Wednesdays are Waffle—”
“Waffle Wednesdays,” a sleepy voice finishes from behind us.
Aiden walks over with sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Every inch of his inked chest is exposed, along with the sharp v-line that disappears below his bunched waistband. If I was the only wolf seeing this alluring display, I’m sure I would be drooling, but unfortunately, we have company.
Moving forward, I fill the doorway with as much of my frame as I can to block Emitt’s view into the apartment without seeming crazy.
“Morning,” Aiden mumbles as he stops just behind me. My fingers tighten around the door as his heavy voice slides over my skin, making my head distractingly fuzzy.
“Morning,” I mumble back, eyes still on Emitt, even while I ask Aiden, “What are Waffle Wednesdays?”
“Tradition,” he answers.
“How many times must I tell you,” Emitt begins, straightening like a chicken about to crow. “We can’t call it a tradition when it’s just us. It’s more like a custom, a ritual, a h—”
“Tradition sounds better,” Aiden says. He falls against the wall, folding his arms over his wide chest while he looks at me. “Basically, every Wednesday, we get pancakes and waffles and drench them in an unhealthy amount of syrup.”
“Oh.”
I’m not sure what I think about this custom. It’s nice, I suppose, but it also sidetracks my plans to spend the morning with my mate, so I at least know that I don’t like it very much right now.
“We’ll go some other time, Emitt,” Aiden says, but I find myself shaking my head.
“You guys should go.”
“We should?”
“It’s tradition,” I tease, and I’m rewarded by the way his eyes crinkle, even if I’d rather us spend time together. “I’ll just meet you at school.”
“Or you can come with us!” Emitt butts in, and both our heads swivel towards him. “It’s not a private thing, or at least, it doesn’t have to be. When I came over, I thought you’d be joining us anyway.”
Logically, I should feel honoured or happy to be included in their “tradition.” Instead, discomfort rises at the thought of sharing a meal with the pair when I barely know Emitt. Change doesn’t become me.
“It’s fine. I—”
“Julian doesn’t—”
I look at Aiden, cutting myself short just as he does.
My frown deepens when whatever he doesn’t say is somehow conveyed to Emitt, whose mouth circles around a quiet “oh” without Aiden uttering another word.
“I don’t what?” I ask.
“It’s nothing bad, just—” Aiden runs a hand through his dark hair and sighs. “The place we go, it’s not in our markets. It’s a pit stop we make before school … outside of the packlands.”
Much like last night, my body stiffens, forcibly constraining me inside while I try not to panic at the prospect of going places we aren’t supposed to beyond our packlands. The rule was school and back, no “pit stops.” But then again, my answer was no anyway, so what did it matter?
Only it does matter when I’m beginning to realise that Aiden’s personal life takes place in a world way larger than mine. He goes out, tries new things, and he doesn’t think twice about it. How are we ever going to get closer while I’m stuck in my minuscule bubble?
“Okay,” I say, trying and failing not to sound so stiff. “That’s fine. It’s on the way to school, so I … don’t mind.”
“You don’t mind?” Aiden asks, his mouth loosened with obvious disbelief.
“That’s what I said,” I confirm.
“Great! I’ll wait in my car.” Emitt beams, off before Aiden can say a word, which is a good thing because it takes a while for him to get the first one out.
“Is it really okay?” he asks after I’ve closed the door. “I don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to, Julian.”
My heart quickens, pumping fresh serotonin into my system. My next breath stalls because apparently, I really like Aiden worrying over me.
“I want to,” I promise. “It’s fine.”
He studies me a moment longer before his whole demeanour brightens, exposing how much he wanted this, which solidifies that this was the right decision.
“I’ll be ready in five,” he promises before rushing towards the bedroom like a pixie on fire while I work desperately to push down the rising tide of unease so I don’t ruin this.
It will be fine. If something does threaten us, there are three of us and we’re all strong. But more than likely, nothing will happen. We’d make a stop on the way, I’d get to know Emitt, and I’d spend some time with my mate.
A win, win, win … right?
As it turned out, I needed to reevaluate my understanding of the word win.
From the moment we’d gotten into Emitt’s car, I’d been provided with reason after reason why I never altered my routines.
The danger wasn’t beyond our borders—it was right here, in the front seat, against my sanity.
Aiden and Emitt had not stopped speaking once, rattling on in half-finished sentences that felt more like code than conversation.
They are loud too, obnoxiously so, and with Aiden in the passenger seat and Emitt driving, I can’t do much but watch on in pained silence.
“Are you going to watch the game on Friday?”
I tune out there, officially giving up. Sports were where my patience met its end, especially when it came to ones as confusingly named as football.
I dig my current read out of my bag, humming when my name is mentioned, but otherwise leave my attention on my pages.
It continues like this until Emitt makes a right turn I’ve never taken before.
My eyes snap up as my heart tries to lurch, but I’m in a car of werewolves, so I quickly tame it.
I catalogue every unfamiliar detail until Emitt parks us right in front of a blue and white building with the letters IHOP written in blue.
It doesn’t look particularly dangerous.
“Jewels?”
I drag my attention from the window to Aiden’s shaded stare. He’s still worried about me, as if he doesn’t expect me to actually go in with them, but I’ve never been one to back down.
“Let’s go,” I say, and I’m the first one out of the car.
We grab only essentials—my book, their phones and wallets—before Emitt leads the way.
Aiden stops me long enough to plop his spare shades on my nose before we slip inside.
The restaurant isn’t anything different from what I’ve seen on television programmes, but I still spin twice to observe every feature.
There’s a server in front of us before the door even shuts who’s quick to lead us to a gleaming booth by the window. Heart thumping, I slide into the far corner, leaving the seat beside me empty for Aiden, but he doesn’t follow. Instead, he sits with Emitt.
My brows pinch, but I brush it off. So Aiden chose to sit with Emitt—this is their tradition. Even if I’m his mate, I’m the tag-along right now. It’s not a big deal.
I take my time going through the menu, but I barely manage to navigate it. Aiden said to tell him if I have any questions, but he doesn’t know I have questions about everything.
The server returns too soon, and Emitt and Aiden are quick to rattle off their order.
I take the safe route and ask for the same thing as Aiden without the bacon.
I breathe out a sigh of relief when she goes without question, and it’s drowned out when Aiden and Emitt return to their earlier conversation.
They’re off the topic of sports now and instead catch up on all the little things Aiden’s missed recently in the pack. I try to spot a moment to jump in, but I’ve never been good with socialising. Which is fine. I don’t think I have very much to add regardless, so I return to the safety of my book.
Well, I try to.
I can’t quite manage to focus my attention there. My eyes keep lifting to them, or more specifically, to how they interact.
Emitt doesn’t think twice about placing his hand on my mate’s shoulder, touching him freely as if Aiden is his. When they laugh, they shove at one another, roughhousing until their faces draw close enough to share the same air, making my stomach knot.
Friends aren’t usually this close, are they? At times, Beckett placed his arm over my shoulder, but that’s Beckett, he doesn’t count. Besides, I still tried to thwart that habit. Aiden doesn’t push Emitt off. He smiles.
My stomach turns as I stare at my book. I’ve been stuck on the same page for far too long, but I haven’t read a single word.
It’s ridiculous, feeling this upset over nothing, especially when Aiden and I only found common ground yesterday, but I can’t help it.
Maybe you should try to get in there, Alex suggests as the food arrives and pauses their conversation. Ask Emitt a question.
Setting my book aside, I think for a moment before I open my mouth to ask Emitt if he practised saying blessings—only to watch him shove a whole waffle down his throat.
I don’t think he even chews.
He eats as if there’s a gun to his head, and Aiden is no better. The pair of them eating like starved, savage mutts. Question forgotten, along with any attempts to “get in there,” I collect my cutlery and eat my meal like a civilised being.
Their chatter is quieter now, easier to follow.
It’s easier to endure too, but then Emitt reaches for Aiden’s shoulder and onto his plate.
As swiftly as a cat, Emitt swipes a stick of bacon up and into his mouth, Aiden nearly wrestles him out of the booth as he tries to force his jaw open.
Then, abandoning the battle, he steals Emitt’s drink from the table instead.
He sips from his straw, not that Emitt minds since he drinks from it right after.
My eye twitches.
That’s like a kiss right there! Indirect, but still a kiss, Alex snarls, abandoning all notions of making friends with Emitt.
I want to tell him it’s not a kiss, indirect or not, but I can’t. Aiden’s saliva is in Emitt’s mouth, and knowing that promises that I won’t know peace again until I reclaim my mate.
It doesn’t matter how slight it is—logic means nothing to a mated wolf.
“You okay, Jewels? You’ve been really quiet,” Aiden asks, concern etched into his features.
How lovely of him to remember his mate after half an hour spent barely speaking to me. I nod, nevertheless, but then I notice the little drop of syrup occupying the corner of his mouth.
I already regret this. I already hate myself for it. But I’m also already moving towards him like a bee drawn to pollen.
“I’m fine,” I promise as I lean over the table, drawing far closer than necessary.
Peering through his dark lenses, I find Aiden’s eyes and dare him to look at anything but me as I drift my hand to his lips.
His quiet huff of breath brushes against my fingers as I swipe my thumb across the length of his bottom lip.
I guide it to my own lips and suck it clean as I ease myself neatly back into my seat.
Aiden gulps, his throat bobbing when I pop the finger out, and I can already scent his arousal in the air.
“You had a little,” I say in way of explanation.
Aiden nods like a bobble head, and his cheeks warm while I glance to Emitt, whose jaw hangs so low that it might as well be touching the floor.
Smiling, I return to my own meal, and yeah—win, win, win.