3. Bianca #3
I take a deep breath. Dr. Montgomery’s words echo.
But looking at them now, seeing the way Owen’s eyes soften when he looks at me, the way Freddie leans forward like my words are precious, the way Tristan’s usual mockery fades into genuine attention, and the way Weller’s protective stance makes me feel safe. ..
Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe what we have transcends my shortcomings.
Who am I kidding? Of course, it matters.
Owen’s expression sharpens. “What is it, Bianca?”
My courage falters. Why is this so fucking hard to say? Because once they know the truth, there’s no going back to the easy friendship we used to have.
The words sit heavy on my tongue, years of waiting making them almost impossible to voice.
“So, I know this might sound crazy, but I think we’re...”
“Bianca!” Whitney reappears, holding a drink tray. “I brought reinforcements.”
My confession dies mid-sentence—the moment shattered.
She passes shots to each of us.
I suppress a frustrated groan. “Thanks, but?—”
“Come on, don’t be lame,” she insists, pressing the glass into my hand. “We’ll never get to enjoy tonight again.”
“Cheers to us!” She throws hers back, watching expectantly. I look at the guys and shrug, tilting my head back to drink. They do the same.
“Thanks, Whit.”
“Sorry! Carry on.” She backs away with an apologetic gesture. “Find me later!”
The alphas’ attention lingers on her retreating form before returning to me.
“As I was saying... this might sound crazy, but?—”
“Bianca Quinn!” A male voice shouts behind me.
I twist to see Jack Chambers, quarterback and certified idiot, stumbling toward me. His eyes are glassy from whatever he’s been drinking.
“Jack,” I acknowledge.
“Whitney told me you were hiding over here. Come dance!” He reaches for my arm, missing by inches.
“I’m good here, thanks.”
He sways, oblivious to the irritation rolling off the alphas. Maybe oblivious to the alphas entirely. He hasn’t acknowledged their presence once... must be pretty drunk to miss the low rumble charging the air.
“One dance... for old time’s sake.”
“There is no old time’s sake,” I remind him. “We’ve had a few classes together…”
“Right, right...” He chuckles, taking another step. “Because your brother and the guard dogs scared everyone off. You’re fucking gorgeous, though, so might as well shoot my shot.”
Owen rises, looming over Jack. “Walk away right fucking now.”
Jack blinks, registering the alphas. “Fuck—shit, sorry, didn’t see you there.” He backs up, stumbling over his own feet. “No harm meant, just?—”
His elbow catches my shoulder as he flails for balance. His drink splashes on me, soaking the blue fabric. The momentum knocks me sideways.
Time slows. My heel catches on the pool coping, and I pitch backward.
My cheekbone slams against the stone edge as I fall. Pain shoots through my head. Then cold water swallows me, muffling the world.
I sink for a moment before instinct kicks in. My legs thrash. My head breaks the surface, lungs gasping for air.
Hands reach for me. Strong arms haul me from the water. Owen hovers above me, fury and concern battling on his face.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he roars at Jack, who has backed several paces away.
“It was an accident,” Jack stammers. “She fell?—”
“Because you ran into her, asshole.” Owen lunges forward.
Weller moves to block his path. “If you start, you won’t stop. Cool down. We need to take care of Bianca.”
“You’re bleeding.” Freddie wraps a towel around my shoulders, settling next to me. I lean into him.
I touch my cheek. My fingers come away red. “It’s nothing.”
“The hell it isn’t,” Tristan snaps, inspecting my injury and checking my pupils.
The world tilts sideways. I can’t think straight—my brain feels all scrambled. Something’s wrong.
“I don’t feel right,” I mumble. My vision blurs. Cold sweat clings to my back.
Freddie’s brow creases.
My skin feels too tight, my head swimming. I lean to the side and throw up without warning, too disoriented to be embarrassed.
“Bianca!” Winston pushes through a small crowd that’s gathered. Clara follows close behind. I didn’t even realize they were here yet. Their matching concern tells me I look worse than I thought.
Winston kneels before me, medical training kicking in. His fingers gently probe the cut. “Doesn’t look like it needs stitches. What happened?”
“Fell,” I struggle to form words. “Hit side of pool.”
“Look at me.” He shines his phone flashlight into my eyes, checking my pupils’ responses. “Follow my finger.”
I track the movement, but nausea rises with each pass.
“How many drinks have you had?” Clara asks.
“Two... no, three.”
“Your pupils are dilated,” Winston tells me. “I need to get you home and monitor you.”
“No,” I protest, panic cutting through the fog. Not yet. Not before I tell them. Even if they reject me, I need them to know.
Winston ignores me, addressing the others. “I’ll get her home and text you updates.”
“We can take her,” Owen counters.
“Have any of you been drinking?” Winston challenges.
Reluctant silence confirms they have. No way in hell he’ll let them drive me anywhere.
“I haven’t had a drop,” Winston states. “Clara and I came prepared to be designated drivers.”
The world spins when I try to stand. My legs buckle. Strong arms catch me before I hit the ground. Weller lifts me, cradling me against his chest.
The feel of him makes me want to cry. I burrow closer. His scent fills my nose, steadying me. I just want to stay right here. Safe. Warm. Home.
“Let’s get her to my car.” Winston’s already moving. “I’ll stay up all night with her. If symptoms change, we’ll go to the hospital.”
My head lolls against Weller’s shoulder as he walks, my thoughts spinning.
I try to speak, fighting through the fog. I need to tell him.
“Alp—” The word comes out slurred, garbled, but I see his eyes widen.
He goes still for a moment, his eyes searching my face. Then his expression softens into one that’s achingly tender. He sits me up in the backseat of Winston’s car and buckles me in. Weller brushes my damp hair from my face, then his lips press against my forehead, lingering longer than necessary.
“We’ll talk tomorrow morning. Get some rest, precious girl.”
But even through my haze, I catch the way his fingers trail against my skin as if he doesn’t want to let go.
Clara slides in beside me, her arm supporting my shoulders.
I close my eyes against the spinning world, and darkness claims me.