Four months later #2
He stands up with one hand on his cock, trying to keep the slightly rolled-off condom in place. He steps back again and lifts his hand, moving his finger left and right like he’s scolding a misbehaving child.
The question is already forming on my tongue.
Who are you, if you’re not Bay?
That’s impossible, you are him!
You are!
I know it!
Fuck!
But I don’t say it out loud, because the shock overwhelms me, simply hitting me too hard.
In a few quick movements, I sit up and gather my clothes, not caring that the leaves are still stuck to my back and ass.
He takes off the condom and zips up his pants.
I don’t look at him, I can’t. Because my heart still believes he’s Bay, because how could he not be? He came here, he sensed me.
What the fuck just happened?
In complete silence, I turn and run down the slope, pushing through the bushes, but I don’t hear his footsteps behind me.
I’m running alone. Ten minutes later, I reach the edge of the forest and glance around carefully. It’s the woods stretching behind the campus, and I move along the outer rim, avoiding places where alphas might appear, then sprint down the street toward my house. I want to scream.
So silly of me. I could just ask. So simple.
What was I even thinking?
Taking deep breaths, I enter my house, trying to be sensible, reasonable. What happened is simply impossible. I did tests on Bay, did he just play me, running a test on me?
What now? Does he wear a mask? A stranger’s artificial face, a mask under a mask? With black eyebrows and black hair.
Just ask, Alex!
Don’t be such an idiot.
I burst into my room, and just as I’m about to fall onto my bed, I suddenly freeze and stare at it. It’s messy, deformed.
Why can’t I build a normal nest? Why have I been living with this pathetic imitation for years, just a sad shadow of a real one?
I’m a coward, unable to pull myself together, unable to put my life in order. I could’ve changed it so easily, but fear kept me frozen…
I grab the edge of the nest and shove it onto the floor. I tear it apart.
Enough.
I don’t have a nest. I don’t deserve one. I can’t build it in this fucked-up version of my life. I’ll start… when I finally dare to make things right.
I need to make things right.
After my recovery.
◆◆◆
Three days later, when I’m curled up in bed dealing with the miserable, difficult heat recovery, I hear knocking at the door.
I curse under my breath because everything feels too hard, recovery always makes me miserable, like the world looks black, my conscience unbearably heavy, my whole life just one long string of events squashing me down like a meat grinder.
With messy hair, an unwashed T-shirt and old shorts, I drag myself downstairs and walk to the intercom just to see…
Bay.
WTF.
Officially, the last time I saw him was two weeks ago after my therapy session at Malden Pharmaceuticals.
My hands are shaking, but there’s nothing I can do now, I can’t run, change, shower, fix myself in a few seconds, so I just smooth my hair nervously and open the door.
"Bay…" I mumble stupidly.
He studies me with his head slightly tilted, like he’s trying to assess my mental state.
"Tough heat recovery?"
Funny, how does he know? I didn’t tell him anything about my heat. Hmmm.
I stare at him for a moment. How could he know that?
I’m torn between doubt, hope and the prospect of shattering my illusion.
If it was him, maybe seeing my distress in the forest, my escape, he decided to give me a little hint that it really was him.
Are masks that perfect nowadays? Maybe I should finally do some proper research on that.
"As always," I mutter and step back to let him in, and that’s when I notice the row of suitcases lined up on the ground behind him.
Wow!
I get a wave of déjà vu; I saw this once already when Jared arrived here, a row of suitcases one after another, a symbol of a life change.
Bay brings the suitcases inside in silence, places them by the wall, straightens up and crosses his arms.
"It’s been almost seven months since you started your therapy, Alex. Is this the moment when we can start becoming a couple again?" he asks plainly, his voice calm and even.
I stare at him like an idiot.
Of all the scenarios I ever imagined about what would happen after my desensitization was complete, I never expected Bay to just show up at my door with all his clothes and belongings and want to move in.
Just like that.
So simple.
What reality did I wake up in today?
Bay tilts his head slightly, his face as calm as ever, impossible to read.
"Isn’t this what you wanted, Alex? If I misjudged the situation, I’ll disappear from here in minutes."
"No!" I say and lean back against the front door as if I physically want to block his way out.
"You’re staying," I say suddenly in a desperate, high-pitched tone, because the truth of it is sinking into me. "And that’s forever, whether the therapy works or not." Even I don’t recognize that certainty in my own voice.
Enough of cowardice.
"But we still can’t touch for just a bit," I add quickly for clarity. "Blue said it could ruin everything, if my body isn’t fully stabilized yet, it might make one more effort and reset again from our touch."
Bay tilts his head and says, "You know, this is how we got to know each other in the first place, Alex. We didn’t touch at all in the beginning, and it didn’t stop us. Don’t you think in some way this is the best possible arrangement?"
I stare.
Wow, that’s a good argument, and I suddenly realize this might actually be the best scenario, but there are things I need to clarify.
"Maybe it is, but first I need to know if you can accept certain things about me that might be… controversial."
"What things?"
"I’m a whore."
Bay makes a particular face, a little mocking, amused.
"No, you’re not."
A short, sharp and firm answer.
I think. I think deeply.
What now?
I’m afraid of where this conversation will go. How do I even phrase this?
Is it finally the damned time?!
Should I ask him directly, are you the stalker?
Or should I keep circling around it, our little game, a sprinkle of thrilling, dangerous illusions, making myself miserable?
Has the cowardice returned?
"I’ll ask a hypothetical question. If you knew I had slept with another man besides you, would you still want to be with me?"
Bay literally bursts out laughing, his expression like I just told the funniest joke in the world, and I haven’t seen him like this in years, not since high school.
"Alex, even if you slept with a thousand men, it wouldn’t matter to me at all."
Wow, seriously, it’s hard to believe. Guys usually aren’t like that, the whole body count thing is an obsession for so many.
"I don’t get it, alphas don’t like the idea of someone else fucking their omega."
Bay lowers his eyelids a bit and then says,
"Alex, I’m not insane. We weren’t in a relationship.
What do you expect? That I would condemn you for something I have no right to condemn you for?
I wanted this for you. I know how much you like sex, I wanted you to have pleasure, touch…
even if the thought hurt me for selfish reasons, I still wanted you to be happy, you. And that’s what mattered to me."
A sudden wave of inexplicable anger hits me. Everything he says, on paper, sounds perfect, like something a model boyfriend would say.
But somehow it stings me, irritates me, frustrates me.
"Fuck, you should condemn it, because I would. You should want me to be only yours," I snap.
Bay looks away.
"I did."
"Then why are you saying this?"
"Because wanting something and having it are two different things."
"I don’t understand. And I want to."
Bay takes a sudden step toward me, his torso almost brushing mine. Our eyes meet up close.
"The thought of another alpha touching you someday killed me. It twisted me up inside like a screw. But I knew we wouldn’t be together.
I lost hope, at some point I gave up. I thought that if I couldn’t be your man, I’d be at least…
a decent man. One day I walked up to your house, I don’t even know what I wanted, maybe…
a conversation. I saw you coming back from a date with that beta.
He leaned in to kiss you. You ran away like crazy. "
I keep staring at him.
"You were here?"
"Yes. I thought about it for a long time. About how you looked. Hurt, unhappy. That’s not the life I wanted for you, Alex! Even if it tore my heart apart, I had to accept the loss. Maybe even come up with a plan that could help you get used to the idea."
I fall silent. He’s giving me another hint. Another clue. Sending the stalker to fuck me fits perfectly with loosening my morals, opening me up to someone else’s touch. The problem is that other alphas’ touch burns me, repels me, irritates me. Except… one or two.
Bay and the stalker.
Coincidence?
I take a step back and walk to the table, spreading my fingers on its surface. Silence settles.
"You know, I’ve wanted to ask you for a long time if you ever slept with Malik, with Cosmo, with your fans."
"I have never slept with anyone except you, Alex."
Silence falls.
It tightens something deep inside me, a mix of emotion and a crushing sense of guilt.
"You said you don’t want me to, remember? When we were in high school."
A little sob escapes me, small, quiet whimper.
So he remembers my possessive rant back then… and he stayed faithful.
I want to say something, I want to explain myself, but something in his energy and in his face tells me I don’t need to.
Many people would probably give in at this point, worn down by the torment of not knowing and the constant uncertainty, and they would ask him outright once and for all whether he is the stalker, but I don’t do that for a simple reason, because if he denies it, then the fact that I slept with the guy he sent will land between us with full weight, spoken out loud.
What's done is done.