15. Chad
CHAPTER 15
Chad
I lean casually against the wall, my foot propped up as if I’m just hanging out. Dean’s name glints on the golden placard next to the closed door, marking his territory. It’s been at least ten minutes since Lakelyn walked in, and I find myself staring at the door, waiting. I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be lingering in the hallway like some nosy bystander, but I am. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, or maybe I just want to see if she’ll come out soon.
My mind keeps replaying what I think is happening inside. Dean and Lakelyn, tangled in each other's arms. Dealing with their unresolved feelings for each other. Part of me is convinced I know exactly what’s going down in there. I’ve seen the way Dean looks at her, and I’ve felt the charged atmosphere between us all. I’m not stupid; I know emotions are running high. My own actions ensured that they would stay that way.
But will I lose her to him? She said she wants me, but I’ve been in this place before…second best. With her, I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle the fall out. She’s not like my other ex’s, she’s everything I need, and losing her so soon after finding her?—
Something inside of me cracks a little at the idea. My lashes brush my cheeks as I inhale a steadying breath. I can’t stick around and find out.
I don’t need anyone. Even if I want them.
Pushing away from the wall, I quickly stride down the hall and head for the exit. The need to suddenly be away has me opting for my own two legs, leaving my mom’s car in the lot. I head for town. It isn’t like I have anywhere else to go. If I go home, my father might be there, glowering and complaining about what a useless omega I am.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am useless. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy for people to discard me for the next best thing. Not that I would blame Lakelyn if she picks Dean, I pushed her into that one. I could probably add matchmaker to my resume. First Lilah, then sorta Willow, now Lakelyn. Difference being, I didn’t like the first two. Sure they were friends, but it didn’t go deeper than that.
Squaring my shoulders, I lift my chin. I’m a bad bitch. The unspoken words ring hollow in my head, but I keep my head up, my mask in place.
The country road gives way to the main street and I head for the coffee shop. What can I say? I’m a glutton. And what’s more gluttonous than returning to the place where I can have both a Peanut Butter Chia and relive the moment the universe shifted with only a kiss.
I don’t notice the alpha slipping out of the empty shop next to the coffee shop until it’s too late. My shoulder collides with his, and I stumble back, my heart skipping a beat.
“Watch it,” I mutter, more to myself than to whoever it is. But then I look up—and there’s Mason.
I duck my head, hoping to avoid the alpha’s attention, but Mason steps right into my path before I can escape. Of course he does.
“Look at you, running into people and then trying to sulk away. Not exactly the behavior I’d expect from the legendary Chad from Omega in Paradise ,” Mason says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s got you looking so down? Can’t find anyone else to use?”
I roll my eyes. Of course he knows I was on that show. Because what else can the world throw at me?
“Oh, you got me, Alpha . I’m devastated no one’s falling at my feet. It’s tragic, really.” I throw up my hands in mock defeat, not giving him the satisfaction of a real reaction. I shrug, keeping my voice flat. “Not in the mood, Alpha.”
He blinks, probably expecting a different response. He frowns and steps a little closer, eyes narrowing. “Not in the mood?”
Mason pauses, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with that. I can feel his eyes on me, and I know he’s waiting for me to snap back, to be the Chad he’s expecting. But I don’t have it in me today.
“What’s going on with you?” His tone shifts slightly, the sarcasm melting into something more curious, almost suspicious. “You don’t seem to be yourself.”
I snort, raising an eyebrow. He watches me on TV and suddenly thinks he can analyze my behavior? “You don’t know me, Alpha . Trust me, I’m just peachy.”
He stares at me unblinking, his jaw clenching with annoyance. That’s funny. He’s annoyed I’m calling him out. I’m really not in the mood to spar with him. What’s the point?
Like he can’t help himself, he says, “Don’t tell me Lakelyn already got bored, and now you’ve got no one left to toy with.”
That stings, more than I want to admit. I flinch before I can stop myself, the comment hitting too close to home. Mason’s smug expression falters for a second, but I’m quick to recover, plastering on a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
“Wow, you really went for it, huh?” I shake my head, chuckling darkly. “Maybe she did.”
Mason’s brow furrows, his cocky smile slipping away as he steps closer again, studying me like I’m some kind of puzzle. “Wait… are you serious?”
I rub the back of my neck, trying to keep it together. But I fail and the words just spill out between us. “Look, Mason, I don’t know what you want from me, alright? I pushed Lakelyn toward Dean. Because I self-destruct like that. So yeah, maybe I’m not in the mood to trade insults with you.”
There’s a flicker of something in Mason’s eyes—something I don’t quite recognize. It’s like concern, but deeper, and for a second, he obviously doesn’t seem to know what to do with it. He glances away, and when he looks back, he’s dropped the act completely.
“Dean?”
A dry, unamused laugh bubbles up, and I shake my head. “Yeah. She’s traded up for an alpha. You must be proud.”
Mason's eyebrows knit together, confusion flashing across his face. “Proud?” he echoes, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I shrug, my mouth twisting into a bitter smile. “You know…she’s moved on. From me, at least. Found someone better. I guess that’s what omegas like me are for, right? We’re just a stepping stone until something…more comes along.”
Mason’s frown deepens, and his posture stiffens. He stares at me, searching my face like he’s trying to figure out if I’m serious. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I laugh again, but it’s still dry and humorless, the sound almost foreign to my own ears. “Come on, man. You know exactly what it means. Omegas aren’t…we’re not alphas. We’re not the ones people actually want, we’re just…weak and useless. Good until they find something better.”
Mason’s face hardens for a moment, his jaw clenching. Then, without warning, he takes a step toward me, closing the space between us. I’m not sure what to expect—anger, maybe—but instead, there’s something softer in his eyes, something I don’t quite recognize.
“That’s bullshit, Chad,” he says quietly, voice low but firm. “And you know it.”
I blink, thrown off by the sudden shift in his tone. “No. It’s just…reality.”
“No, it’s not.” His voice tightens, like the words are struggling to stay controlled. He steps even closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming in a way that makes my breath catch in my throat. “You’re seriously standing here thinking you’re less because you’re an omega? What, did someone tell you that crap? Omega’s are precious.”
My heart races, and for a second, I don’t know what to say. Butterflies explode in my stomach as he holds my gaze. This conversation isn’t going the way I thought it would. Mason’s expression’s unreadable, but there’s an intensity in his eyes that sends a shiver through me.
“It’s just how things are,” I mumble, trying to downplay what I just admitted. “It’s fine, Alpha, you don’t have to pretend to care.”
His hand suddenly finds my shoulder, his grip firm but not harsh. He looks at me, really looks at me, like he’s trying to see past every wall I’ve ever built. “I’m not pretending. And you’re not less than anyone. Not Dean, not anyone.”
His words hit me harder than they should, cracking something open in my chest. My parents’ disappointment, their constant reminders that I was a letdown because I wasn’t the alpha they’d expected—that weight I’ve carried for so long—it’s suddenly hanging in the air between us. And he’s looking at me like he can’t believe I actually believe it.
I force a smile, the one I always wear when I’m trying to hide the cracks. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m good at playing my part.” I start to turn away, eager to escape this moment, but his hand catches my arm, gentle but firm.
“Chad,” he says, and it’s softer this time, the usual sharpness in his tone replaced by something else. “I’m serious. You’re not just some placeholder.”
I freeze. The words hang between us, making my chest feel tight and hollow all at once. For a split second, it’s like he sees through every wall I’ve built. My breath catches before I can stop it, and I shake him off with a forced laugh. “Whatever you say, Alpha.”
His expression changes, softens in a way that hits too close, right in the tender spots I don’t let anyone see. It makes my throat tighten because I know that look. Pity. And I don’t want it. I don’t want anything from him.
He steps closer anyway, his thumb brushing lightly against the side of my neck, a touch so brief and unintentional it sends a bolt of warmth coursing through me. “I’m serious. Chad, there’s nothing wrong with you.”
The sincerity in his voice burns, and I jerk away like his touch is fire. My skin tingles where his thumb had been, and it takes everything in me not to shudder. He flinches as if he can feel it too, pulling back a step, his gaze darting anywhere but to mine.
It’s all I need to find my inner bitch, the armor I never leave home without.
“Find someone that needs your lies, Alpha .” My voice drips with venom, but my smile is razor-sharp. “I know I’m perfect.”
I don’t wait for a reaction, don’t look at the way his jaw tightens or the flicker of something I can’t name in his eyes. I just walk away, letting the sting in my chest fuel every step.
He follows me, silent and steady, like a panther stalking its prey. I pretend not to notice, keeping my head high even though his presence prickles at the back of my neck. When the barista looks up expectantly, I manage to place my order without my voice betraying me.
“Is that all?” she asks, her gaze darting nervously behind me to the looming shadow that is Mason.
“I’ll take a coffee, black.”
The deep rumble of his voice sends a ripple through me, but I force myself to twist and face him with an unimpressed glare. He stands there, smug and unbothered, like a dog with a bone.
“I don’t do charity,” I snap, letting my gaze rake deliberately down over his black tank top, lingering on the way it hugs his chest and shoulders. My eyes dip lower to the frayed edges of his ripped jeans that somehow manage to look incredible on him. When I glance back up, they catch on the necklaces around his neck, the silver glinting against his sun-kissed skin. Damn him. I swallow, trying to keep my bite intact, though it’s fading fast.
He raises a brow, his lips curling into a knowing smirk, like he’s caught on to every single thought I’ve tried to hide. “Don’t worry, Pretty Boy, this one’s on me.”
With deliberate ease, he pulls a crumpled twenty from his pocket, leaning past me to hand it to the barista.
The shift in proximity floods my senses. Campfire smoke and sweet marshmallows. My mouth waters, and I fight the urge to lean in just to get another whiff.
“Or don’t perfect, pretty boys accept kindness?” His green eyes pin me in place, steady and teasing, as the faint taunt in his words hangs between us.
Kindness . That’s the one thing that always messes me up. My defenses waiver, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, trying—and failing—to hold back the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. Damn him again.
I have a type, and Mason ticks every single box. Rough around the edges, sharp-eyed, and confident without trying too hard. And if I’m honest, I’m feeling reckless. That tennis lesson left me raw in ways I’m not ready to face, and I need something—or someone—to distract me.
If this rugged alpha wants to be that distraction, who am I to fight it?
I shrug, playing it off like his offer doesn’t matter. Like him calling me pretty boy over and over is just a jab I can brush off, when I know damn well I’ll turn it over in my head later. Let it burrow under my skin and sit there. It’s just the way I’m wired—add a sprinkle of purposeful kindness, and I’m done for. Sad, but true.
“I guess you can sit with me,” I say, throwing out the words like I’m some cool kid handing out favors.
He chuckles, the sound low and warm, and it washes over me like a balm. I’m already halfway regretting letting him in, but it’s too late now.
I grab my Peanut Butter Chia drink, the cup warm against my palm as I glance over at Mason. He’s got his black coffee in hand, gripping it like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His green eyes stay locked on me, steady and searching, and I feel my lips twitch into a grin before I can stop them.
“So, black coffee, huh?” I say, letting the teasing slip into my tone. “Straightforward, no-nonsense. I guess that checks out.”
Mason’s lips tug at the corners, not quite a smile, but close enough to make my chest tighten. He doesn’t say much, just follows me to the booth I pick out, sliding into the seat across from me with a slow, deliberate ease. There’s a cautious energy about him, like he’s waiting for something, but I don’t let it throw me off.
I take a sip of my drink, letting the sweet, nutty flavor settle on my tongue as I lean back and give him a once-over. He watches me like he’s trying to figure me out, but I’m not about to make it easy for him.
“You don’t really fit the whole bad boy image, you know,” I say, the corner of my mouth curving up just enough to be provocative. “Figured you’d be a bit more...dangerous.”
His eyebrow quirks up, and he takes a slow sip of his coffee, his gaze still locked on mine. “You mean like a guy who doesn’t know how to act around pretty boys?”
There it is again. Pretty boy. The way he says it feels like a test, and I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.
“Is that what I am to you?” I ask, letting my voice drop just a little. “Just a pretty face?”
Mason sets his coffee down, his green eyes narrowing—not with judgment, but with a flicker of curiosity. “I don’t know,” he says, voice steady, probing. “Are you just using that smile to deflect, or is there more to it?”
The question makes me pause, caught off guard by the directness. For a moment, the tension from earlier buzzes under my skin, too close to the surface. But I push it down, leaning into what I know best. I flash him a grin, all charm and no cracks. “What if I told you it works on everyone?”
His lips twitch, teasing the edge of a smile, but he doesn’t quite let it out. “Maybe I’m not everyone.”
I lean forward slightly, letting my fingers trail the rim of my cup. “You sure about that?”
He shifts in his seat, the movement slight but deliberate. His eyes flick down, lingering on my mouth for a fraction of a second before meeting mine again. Something unspoken passes between us, but instead of leaning into it, he takes another slow sip of his coffee, his expression unreadable.
“Look, Chad,” he says, and there’s something softer in his voice now, something I’m not ready for. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but... are you okay? Really?”
The words hit like a punch I wasn’t braced for. My chest tightens, and for once, the snark I keep locked and loaded doesn’t come. I didn’t expect him to ask. Hell, I didn’t expect him to care.
“I’m fine,” I manage, but the words come too quick, too rehearsed. “Just needed a break from… everything.”
Mason leans back, watching me like he’s piecing together a puzzle I didn’t mean to put on display. His gaze is steady, warm in a way that makes me want to fidget, and I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
“Alright,” he says finally, the word drawn out like he’s testing it. “But if you ever wanna talk, I’m not gonna be that guy who pretends he doesn’t notice.”
The sincerity in his tone catches me off guard, and for a second, I don’t know what to say. He’s been treating me like a walking red flag since we met, like I’m going to hurt Lakelyn or leave her in pieces. But now, this feels... different. He’s looking at me differently, and it throws me, more than I want to admit.