Chapter 6 Tae #2
I lead us back to Club Knotty, while Delilah talks about her time here.
I learn that in addition to baking, she loves music.
She tells me about Omega Village and her best friends.
Her face lights up when she talks about how Sabs is trying to bully her into going to hot yoga again, how Kady has recently found a pack, and that Faye is bringing her the best fresh herbs every week.
She talks so fast that I can barely keep up with what she’s saying, not able to stifle a grin when she finally comes up for air.
“I’m doing that nervous talking thing, aren’t I?” She exhales, puffing a strand of hair away from her face. “I tend to babble sometimes.” She smiles apologetically. “I’d love to know more about you. Are you studying too?”
“Actually, I’m just working here full-time,” I reply. “I wanted a change of scenery, to get out of the city. I like…” I see the mountains. “Hiking.”
“Really?” She arches an onyx brow. “You came to work at SVU because you like hiking?”
It’s not exactly a lie. I do like being outdoors, but I can’t exactly tell her that I’m here because my famous packmate wanted to have the college experience. Being unable to tell her the full truth sucks, but I need to honor what my pack agreed.
“Plus being a barista has surprisingly good benefits.” I’m spared from any more questions by the fact we’re approaching a sign promoting the rink that’s been temporarily set up in Club Knotty for the day. “I thought we could go skating. What do you think?”
“I haven’t been since I was a child.” Her eyes shine with excitement before shutters fall over them. “I’m not the most coordinated, though.”
“It’ll be fun.” I wave away her concerns. “I promise I’ll catch you if you fall.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” She smiles shyly as we join the line. “Let’s do it.”
When we get to the front, I pay before she has the chance to find her wallet in her backpack—where I swear I see a mixing spoon poking out.
We’re pointed in the direction of the bar to pick up our skates. With ’50s music playing, the booths around the bar look like they belong in Grease. Groups are sitting around drinking coke floats piled with ice cream or sipping on oversized milkshakes through stripey straws.
“The dance floor downstairs has been turned into the rink,” the person behind the bar explains in a bored voice as she retrieves the pink and white skates in our sizes and slaps them down on the counter. “You’re just in time for the Mates and Skates session.”
Before she has time to tell us what that is, she’s already speaking to the next customer.
I notice Delilah eyeing up the milkshakes. “Do you want a drink first?”
“Maybe after?” she suggests. “With that amount of sugar, I’ll be skidding across the rink.”
Carrying our skates downstairs to the dance floor area, lights flash across the shiny floor, sending shimmering sparkles everywhere.
There are already a few skaters in the rink, showing off with elaborate jumps and twirls.
I spot Delilah’s gaze flit nervously to them as she slides off her shoes to put on her skates.
I note the shapely curve of her calf and dainty ankles, my eyes travelling up over her curvy thighs before tearing back up to her face again.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She winces as she ties her laces. “If I cause you any physical injury, I’m not gonna be held responsible.”
“I can handle myself.” I nudge her playfully. “I spent most of my time as a kid in a skatepark. You’re in safe hands.”
Gingerly rising to her feet, her legs wobble a little as we glide over to the edge of the rink. She grabs my arm for support, clinging on tightly.
“You’re doing so well already.” I hope I sound encouraging.
“I’m practically Bambi on ice,” she mutters, but some of her earlier fear wavers as her grip on me loosens.
“Why don’t we do a lap?” I offer her my hand.
She looks at it for a second before taking it. Her soft palm heats mine, her touch sending tingles up my arm. The smell of freshly baked muffins clings to her hair, wafting up to me as we begin to circle.
Despite other guys trying to make me feel less than because of my designation, I’ve never truly wished I was an alpha. But right now, I’d give anything for their heightened sense of smell. Most omegas wear scent blocking spray, but I’d love to know what her scent is like.
“See?” I squeeze her hand as she gets more confident. “You’re doing great.”
Suddenly, the DJ’s voice booms over the speakers, making her jump.
“The Mates and Skates session will now begin.” He drags out his words in a way that makes me cringe.
From what I can see from my position, he’s dressed in a sequin leotard that definitely shouldn’t see the light of day because of its overly tight fit.
“Are you ready to skate away to the sound of lurrrvvvve?”
The lights change to pink and red hues that swirl over the floor as a slow love song comes on. Other skaters around us turn toward one another, reminding me of when couples paired off for slow songs at prom.
“I swear, I had no idea about this,” I grimace as Delilah turns to face me.
“What’s wrong, Tae?” She smirks. “Don’t like the sound of lurrrvvvve?”
All around us, couples are slowly coming to a stop to rotate in circles.
“Would you like to dance?” I ask. “Or we can do a few more laps, if you prefer?”
“Staying in one spot is probably safest,” she says. “There’s definitely less chance of me causing anyone an injury that way.”
“Trust me, the only accident that’s likely to happen is over there.” I nudge my head in the direction of a couple to our far left. They’ve completely forgotten they’re on skates, dry humping against the wall like wild animals.
Wanting to be respectful, I hover my hands by her hips. “Do you want to…?”
She nods gingerly, her brown pools of warmness never leaving mine. She has such pretty eyes. Eyes that are so welcoming. Eyes that make me feel like I can tell her anything.
“So have you managed to figure out the milk steamer yet?” she teases. “Or is it still your nemesis?”
“We’re best friends now,” I proclaim. “For now, at least. But I need to figure out the ovens. I burned my arm like three times today. Did you know they bake their pastries fresh every day? Their cinnamon buns are famous.”
“I did.” Her mouth curves with mild bemusement. “You can tell. It’s all in the buttery pastry. Admittedly, I haven’t tried any of their cinnamon buns yet. I tend to bake my own.”
“You bake a lot?”
“Too much probably,” she replies as we move from side to side. “But it’s so much fun, and without me, the Stellas would probably starve.”
“What’s your favorite thing to bake?”
“Oh, that’s a good question!” Any earlier nervousness she had completely evaporates.
“At the moment, I love experimenting with sourdough bread and learning all about French patisserie. Some of it’s quite tricky to master.
I’ve been studying the lamination technique this week.
It’s how you get the fine, flaky layers in pastry.
You know, you have to put a lot of effort into learning all the techniques. ”
My mind deviates, my cock hardening as I imagine her rolling out dough, flour peppered over her nose.
Thankfully, it’s dark, so no one can see me sporting a semi.
There’s nothing hotter than hearing a woman talk about her passions.
And if her hands are so skilled with the lamination technique—whatever that involves—I bet she has other hidden talents.
“What about you?” She jolts me out of my reverie, instantly feeling bad about my mind taking a wholesome conversation to a dirty place. There’s something about this girl that makes it impossible to control myself. “What do you do for fun?”
“Aside from making latte art?” I joke. “I hang out with friends, watch movies. I skate too.”
We rotate a bit faster. Delilah’s balance is more surefooted now that her confidence is increasing.
The pink lights casts pretty dots over her brown skin. “So you brought me here to show off your skills?”
“I skateboard,” I clarify. “I’m not exactly great with roller skates, as you’ve seen. Honestly, I just like trying new things and having fun.”
“You’d get on with my friend, Sabs,” she tells me. “She’s always trying something new and is super active. She bullied me into going to a hot yoga class last week.” Delilah shudders. “Let’s just say I’d prefer caramelizing a crème br?lée.”
The thought of her in a downward-dog pose in tight yoga pants is not helping my situation at all.
“You seem to have mastered the basics here quickly enough,” I say. “How about we try a more advanced move? Do you think you can handle a twirl?”
She bats her thick eyelashes. “I think so.”
I let go of her waist to take her hand. As she goes to turn, her other arm outstretched, the song changes. I recognize the opening guitar riff instantly. One of Pack Fire’s most popular songs “Burning Hearts.”
“The best love song from campus’s Romeo himself!” The DJ echoes over Jagger’s raspy voice, echoing through the vast space.
Delilah’s body twitches, suddenly swerving erratically like she’s lost control of her limbs. She loses all balance, trying to correct herself when the skates slide out from underneath her.
I try to grab her, but it’s too late. Her body spins away from me, and she crashes to her knees, head down, curls falling forward over her face.
“Delilah!” I drop to the floor next to her where she stays in a heap, her breathing heavy and ragged.
When she looks up, an anguished expression morphs her features just as Jagger’s voice hits an unbelievably high note.
“Are you hurt?” In panic, I scan her over to look for injuries.
The floor isn’t too hard, but I can see tears in her eyes.
Maybe she landed on her ankle funny and sprained it.
Her bottom lip trembles. “I’m f-fine.”
She winces as I help her back to her feet, Jagger’s voice still booming.
“I’m so sorry.” I brush her hair from her eyes. “I-I tried to catch you, I…”
“It’s o-okay,” she murmurs. “Accidents happen.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice shakes as she dusts herself off. “Just not very good at skating.”
I messed up, and worse, I broke my promise. She told me that she was uncoordinated. Why did I have to insist on bringing her here? If I don’t turn this date around, she won’t ever want to see me again.
“Shall we go back upstairs?” I suggest. “Take the skates off and have a milkshake?” Her shoulders tense as the chorus hits. “Or how about we get out of here?” I’m clutching at straws here. “If you’ve never tried the Tea House’s cinnamon buns, we need to change that.”
Her shoulders visibly sag, letting me know this is the best course of action. “Are you sure you don’t mind leaving?”
“I absolutely don’t mind.” I wrap my arm around her waist to steer her back to safety. There’s no way I’m letting her go until those wheels are off her feet. “Come on.”
I’ll do anything to see that dazzling smile again.