2. Lakelyn
CHAPTER 2
Lakelyn
I wipe the sweat from my forehead as I try to focus on the next volley, but it’s impossible with Dean standing so close. The feel of his hands are still a ghost of a touch on my fingers. His cool, distant vibe only makes me more aware of how out of my league he is, but I keep trying to act like I’m fine with just being friends. It’s not like I have a choice—he’s already made it clear that’s all we’ll ever be.
Two weeks ago, my attempt for more crashed and burned. Spectacularly. At least he kept it to himself—I'd never live down hitting on my brother's friend. Not that Landon’s ever said he wouldn’t be cool with it, but still.
‘I’m sorry Lakelyn, but I can’t. It’s not that I’m not attracted to you…’ On and on his explanation went, until I wanted to sink into the floor.
Which is fine. Completely.
If our lessons are a little awkward now, it will pass. Right? His normal teasing and harmless flirting has gone the way of water on hot pavement, burned away with the sun.
Alphas don’t typically settle down with beta’s. We are normally just good to help ease oncoming ruts before they get too strong, if there isn’t a willing omega that is. And normally there’s a willing omega. Not that I’d know about that. I stifle a laugh at myself as I push the thoughts away and try to focus back on the lesson at hand.
Then I notice Dean’s attention shift, his body tensing slightly. I turn to see what—or who—he’s looking at, and that’s when I see him.
An undeniably attractive guy leaning against the fence has a presence that demands attention. He’s tall and lean, his frame carrying a graceful energy that contrasts sharply with the rugged masculinity of Dean.
His dark eyes, framed by impossibly long eyelashes, hold a depth that’s almost unsettling, like they could see right through any facade. His lips—full, bow-shaped, and naturally pouty—give him an almost boyish allure, softening the sharpness of his jawline. And did I mention attractive? It’s the kind of attractiveness that sneaks up on you, subtle at first, but then it hits like a wave, leaving you breathless. I am definitely breathless, and it has nothing to do with the tennis lesson, and everything to do with the mystery guy.
I feel a flush rise to my cheeks as I catch myself staring, my pulse quickening in a way I’m not used to. When he turns to face Dean, his hair flops carelessly over his forehead, and a confident grin spreads across his face, tugging at those perfect lips. He’s got this air, like he’s the kind of guy who says exactly what’s on his mind, unapologetically.
“Dean?” The guy’s voice is warm and familiar, and there’s a hint of something more in his tone—something that makes me glance between them, curious. “Wow, it’s been forever. Last time I saw you, I kissed you, didn’t I?”
I can hardly believe my ears. Did he really just say that? My eyes widen, and I glance at Dean, whose expression is as stony as I’ve ever seen it. He nods, his voice clipped as he replies, “Yeah, I remember.”
He obviously does not want to remember.
Okay , this is officially awkward, but there’s something about the way the new guy carries himself that makes it hard to look away. He turns to me, and I suddenly feel like the center of his world, which is both thrilling and terrifying.
“Who’s this?” I ask, trying to sound casual, but my voice betrays me by trembling just a little.
“Chad,” he says smoothly when Dean remains silent, extending his hand and stepping toward me. “An old friend of Dean’s.”
I take his hand, and the moment our skin touches, there’s this spark—like something electric passes between us. I can’t help but stare at him, taking in every detail, from the pouty curve of his smile to the way his eyes seem to see right through me. And before I can stop myself, the words just tumble out: “I’m a virgin.”
Oh. My. God. Did I just say that out loud?
I snatch my hand from his and take a step back. My face heats up as I desperately wish for the ground to swallow me whole. Dean looks like he wants to disappear too, but Chad, on the other hand, just smiles wider, like he’s genuinely amused.
“Good to know,” he says, his voice teasing but not unkind. A sparkle in the depths of his dark brown eyes lets me know that my lack of a filter is nothing to be ashamed of.
I want to crawl into a hole and never come out, but he doesn’t let the moment linger awkwardly. Instead, he leans in a little closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “So, do I get to know the name of the woman who’s bold enough to make confessions right off the bat?”
I force myself to breathe, trying to gather what little composure I have left. “Lakelyn,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t betray how flustered I am.
“Lakelyn,” he repeats the syllables of my name, rolling over his tongue like music, sending a shiver down my spine. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman. You’ll have to let me buy you dinner sometime, Lakelyn.”
My heart races at his words, and I’m painfully aware of how close Dean’s standing. I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking, but I try to focus on Chad instead. “Maybe,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Chad’s smile deepens, and I can see the way he’s enjoying this, while Dean taps his racket against the side of his leg uncomfortably.
Dean releases a sigh and shifts on his feet, dragging a hand through his golden blond hair. Impatience radiates off of him like he’s a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment. I want to smooth the furrow between his brows and reassure him that everything will be okay. But I suspect it’s Chad—or at least the idea of him—that’s put Dean on edge.
The tension hangs in the air, dense enough to slice through. I can’t seem to pull my gaze from Chad, even though I know I should. The way he looks at me, as if I’m the only person in the world, is almost overwhelming. But I can feel Dean’s presence beside me, colder than usual, almost frigid.
I glance down at my wrist, needing a distraction, and my stomach drops when I see the time. My shift at the diner starts in less than a half hour. “I—I have to go,” I stammer, taking a step back. “My shift is about to start.”
Dean nods, his expression unreadable, but there’s a certain coldness in his eyes that makes my chest tighten. That’s not for me. I know it isn’t. It’s for the beautiful omega standing in front of me. Still, it makes me ache inside. For him. For them both.
Chad, however, doesn’t miss a beat. “Where do you work, Lakelyn?” he asks, like he’s trying to keep me from leaving just yet.
I inhale, catching his perfume. What is that scent? I want to inhale again, but it would be too noticeable. Whatever it is, it smells amazing to my senses. Fruity and tangy all at once, my mouth waters. Would his lips taste the same?
“Uh, the diner on Main Street,” I reply, trying to ignore the fluttering in my stomach. “I’m a waitress there.”
“I used to love that little place,” Chad says with a grin, and there’s no mistaking the playful glint in his eye. “Maybe I’ll come by and get some food.”
I can feel my face heating up again, and I’m torn between wanting to stay and feeling like I need to escape before I make an even bigger fool of myself. “I’ll, um, keep an eye out for you,” I say, trying to sound casual, but my voice is a little shaky.
Dean shifts, crossing his large arms over his expansive chest with his racket still in his fist. He clenches his jaw, and I can practically hear the grinding of his teeth. I shake it off and glance at Chad again.
“Well, I better go,” I say, trying to force a smile. “Don’t want to be late.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” Chad says, his tone teasing. “But don’t worry, Lakelyn—I’ll definitely be seeing you soon. I’m not about to let you off that easily.”
I manage a small smile, even though my heart’s pounding in my chest. “See you later,” I say, turning to leave before I lose my nerve.
As I walk away, I can feel both of their eyes on me—one warm and intense, the other cold and distant. And I can smell my own muted perfume coming from my sweat. Blueberry pie, tart and sweet at the same time. At least it isn’t lavender or roses, I’d prefer fruity over flowery everyday. Although, musk on alphas, I like the sort that reminds me of nature. Like a hike in the woods or a day at the beach. But whatever perfume Chad has, it’s stuck with me, if only I could place it.
Thoughts of him swirl around throughout the day. I barely notice when Mason slides into a booth in my section, but as soon as I see him, a grin pulls at my lips. He stops by during most of my shifts, and I’m pretty sure my brother sends him to check up on me. Not that I mind. There’s something about Mason’s smile that always fills me with warmth.
He’s the kind of guy who looks right at home on a construction site or under the hood of a car, with muscles that fill out his shirt sleeves just right and an edgy vibe from his ripped jeans. Not that he’s particularly interested in either of those things. He likes art. The art that’s drawn all over his skin is only part of the story.
Art’s one of the things we bonded over as teens, much to my brother's annoyance. We might have grown up with money, but Dad insisted we go to public school—said it would build character. That’s how we met Mason. Now, tattoos peek out from beneath the fabric and snake down his arms, giving him a dangerous edge that’s softened by the warmth in his green eyes.
His nose is slightly crooked—a reminder of the fight he picked with the guy who broke my heart back when we were in high school. And that smile of his, full and toothy, is absolutely contagious.
He wears his dark hair in a man bun, the strands silky and smooth, and there’s something about the way it contrasts with his rough, tanned skin that makes him impossible to ignore. I’d love to run my fingers through it.
He has omegas falling all over themselves just to get his attention. And I don’t blame a single one of them. Because he’s sex walking.
I’d never dare make a move on him—my brother would have a fit. He probably wouldn’t care that I asked Dean out, but Mason would be crossing a line he laid down so many years ago. Guess having your twin date your best friend is a big no.
But sometimes I catch myself thinking about him in ways I shouldn’t. Especially on those nights that feel like forever ago, when he would stay the night at my parent’s house, and I would touch myself in the dark with his name on my lips. That was before I knew I was a beta, when I still dreamed of being an omega. Of being someone that he might notice.
Before I can stop myself, the words tumble out of my mouth: “Have you thought about us…together?”
Oh. My. God . Where the fuck is my filter? I’m malfunctioning. First I tell a complete—hot as hell—stranger that I'm a virgin. Now I’m asking my brother’s best friend if he thinks about us having sex.
I’m mortified, my face instantly flushing as red as a cherry tomato. I snap my mouth shut and focus on the order pad I’m gripping like a lifeline, desperately trying to pretend I didn’t just say that out loud. Am I sick? Did I bump my head? What on earth would make me ask Mason that?
“Oh, wow, just pretend that didn’t just happen.” I lift my eyes to his, afraid of what I’ll find.
Mason blinks, his usual confident grin slipping for just a second as my words register. He’s caught off guard, and I can tell he’s trying to process what just happened. When he recovers, his eyes soften, a mix of surprise and something else—something deeper—shining through.
“Lake,” he says, his voice low and careful, “you really just asked that, didn’t you?”
I drop my gaze back to my order pad. I can’t look at him, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I... I didn’t mean it that way,” I mumble, still staring at my fingers gripping the pad. It’s obvious he isn’t going to pretend like I didn’t say that, so I add, “It’s just... You’re, well, you’re you, and I thought maybe?—”
“Maybe?” he prompts gently, his tone almost encouraging .
I finally dare to glance back up at him, and there’s a tenderness in his gaze that I’ve never noticed before. It makes my heart skip a beat. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,” I admit softly, being drawn into the warmth. “You’ve always been... safe. But also, you’re not exactly inexperienced.”
Mason’s chuckle echoes in my ears, and the playful grin that usually makes me feel so at ease suddenly feels like it’s mocking me. He leans back, throwing his arm over the back of the booth, and there’s a hint of something in his eyes that I can’t quite place—something that makes me feel small and foolish.
“Safe…” he repeats, and the corner of his mouth kicks up in a self-deprecating smile. “Right. That’s what every guy wants to be called. No wonder you’re perpetually single, Lakelyn.”
His words hit me like a slap. The warmth that had filled me moments ago vanishes, replaced by a cold embarrassment that creeps up my neck and settles into my chest. I try to laugh it off, but it comes out strained, forced.
“And why the hell are you just randomly throwing out that question, Lake?” Mason continues, shaking his head like he can’t believe what I’ve just said. “You’re Landon’s sister. Of course I haven’t thought about you that way. He would kill me.”
His tone isn’t harsh, but it’s clear, and it hurts. My stomach twists with regret, and I suddenly wish I could take back every word. I feel so stupid.
“I didn’t mean—I wasn’t…I—” I start, but my voice falters as tears sting at the back of my eyes, and I don’t know how to finish the sentence. I want to tell him I didn’t mean to make things awkward, that I didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable, but the words get stuck in my throat. Instead I say, “What can I get you today?” in a lame attempt to brush off what just happened.
Mason softens, realizing how his words have affected me. “Look, Lake,” he says more gently, “you’re special, okay? And you deserve better than some half-assed, spur-of-the-moment hook up. You deserve a loving, mutual relationship.”
I nod, my eyes fixed on the floor, too embarrassed to look at him. Obviously he’s letting me know that it wouldn’t be with him. That smarts a little more than I expected.
“Yeah,” I mumble, my voice barely audible. Natural, right . “I get it.”
The silence that follows is thick, suffocating, and I feel my own stupidity pressing down on me. The easy camaraderie we usually share is gone, replaced by this awkward tension that I don’t know how to break.
Just when I think I might die under the pressure of it all, the bell above the diner’s door rings, cutting through the silence. I glance up instinctively, and my breath catches in my throat.
Chad walks in, his presence commanding the room just as easily as it did the tennis courts earlier. He scans the diner, and when his eyes land on me, a slow, confident smile spreads across his face.
Mason notices the shift in my attention and follows my gaze, his expression hardening slightly when he sees Chad. “It looks like you’ve got a customer,” he says, his voice low, almost warning.
I nod, still feeling the remnants of my embarrassment, but Chad’s arrival offers a strange kind of relief. It’s like a distraction from the mess I’ve just made, even if he makes me feel things too.