Chapter 5 The First Date
CHAPTER FIVE
the first date
IVER
Are my palms supposed to sweat this much on a first date?
I keep wiping them off on the legs of my jeans as I comb through my memories of prior dates, struggling to recall whether I’ve ever been this damn nervous before.
Maybe they’ve all been this harrowing, and I mentally blocked it out.
Maybe I just convinced myself I was smooth with the ladies to bolster my own self-confidence.
Or maybe I’ve just never been this into someone before, and it’s got me all kinds of fucked up.
Definitely that last one.
“We said seven, right?” I ask as I glance down at the time displayed on my phone screen, my knee bouncing beneath the table. 6:59 p.m.
“We did,” Javi replies, reaching for his margarita.
We’ve been sitting in this booth at the Mexican restaurant in Norbury for ten minutes now, patiently waiting for our women to make their appearance.
I’m glad they picked this place for our double date rather than some stuffy fine-dining establishment.
At least the atmosphere is casual and relaxed, even if I’m not.
Each minute we’ve been here has felt like a damn hour.
Not that Javi’s bad company, but the anticipation of seeing my mate is making it hard to keep a conversation going.
I’m pretty sure Lo insisted on her and Chey meeting us at the restaurant tonight so that Javi and I would be forced to spend some one-on-one time, but honestly, she doesn’t need to resort to setups like this.
It’s weird when it’s forced. Besides, the two of us are cool.
Okay, I’ll admit I wasn’t thrilled when I found out he was mated to my sister, but I got over it. Men don’t hold onto things like women do. We’re simpler than they think.
Lo is annoyingly punctual, so of course the girls show up at seven o’clock on the dot. My inner wolf perks up when the breeze carries Chey’s distinctively delicious scent inside the restaurant as she enters, my mate’s proximity eliciting an intense physical reaction within me.
My pulse kicks up. My breathing quickens. Our bond strains in my chest, and my eyes immediately ping across the room to meet hers, as if they’re magnetized. My mouth runs dry. My pupils dilate. Even my dick hardens.
Mate.
Mine.
It’s primal instinct, but it’s also fed by the obsession I had with Cheyenne Clark from the first time I laid eyes on her. I was captivated by her long before our mate bond snapped in.
Okay, it might’ve only been a couple weeks, but still. She’s my dream girl.
Chey smiles shyly as she and Lo begin making their way over to our table, averting her gaze as a blush rises to her cheeks. I immediately slide out of the booth and pop up to my feet, grinning like a fool as she draws closer. When she’s within arm’s length, I impulsively go in for a hug.
Wrong move.
She stiffens as I wrap my arms around her body, drawing a sharp inhale. I’m quick to realize my mistake and release my hold, jerking backwards and immediately launching into a fumbled apology.
“Shit, sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” I rush out. “I forgot that you don’t like-”
“It’s fine,” she interrupts, shifting her weight uncomfortably as she glances around the restaurant.
“Seriously, I didn’t-”
“Iver,” she snaps, pinning me with a hard stare. “It’s fine.”
That’s when I realize how many people are looking at us. I was born into pack rank, so I’m used to being recognized wherever I go. I’ve learned to ignore it. Chey is clearly not accustomed to the spotlight, and the added attention is only making this whole situation worse.
I invaded her personal space and made a scene. This date is clearly off to a great start.
“Yeah, okay,” I breathe, stabbing my fingers through my hair as I take a step backwards and gesture to the bench seat on our side of the booth.
Lo has already slid in closest to the wall on the opposite side, Javi seated beside her.
I motion for Chey to do the same and take the interior seat, but she hesitates, rolling her lower lip between her teeth.
“Uh, after you,” she murmurs, tipping her head.
It’s not that I’m picky about my seat at the table, it’s just instinctual for me to place my mate on the inside, shielding her from any potential harm. I probably should’ve considered who I’m mated to, though. Chey clearly has an issue with feeling trapped.
Fuck, I’m just continually screwing this up.
I quickly slide back into the booth, scooching over to take the spot closest to the wall, across form Lo. As soon as Chey sits down beside me, I jump right into another attempt at steering this runaway train back on the track.
“I didn’t know what kind of margaritas you liked, so I ordered both lime and strawberry,” I say, gesturing to the glasses on the table. “I figured I’d just drink whichever one you don’t want.”
Her brow furrows. “But don’t you hate tequila?”
“Well yeah, but everyone else seems to love the margaritas here, and I wanted to have a drink waiting for you when you got here, so I just…”
“She’ll have the lime, I’ll have the strawberry,” Lo interrupts, leaning forward over the table to pluck up the strawberry margarita. She hovers in close as she does, meeting my eyes and dropping her voice low. “Seriously, little bro, have you always been this bad at dating?”
“The stakes have never been this high,” I grumble back under my breath.
“Well loosen up, you’re acting weird,” she huffs, rolling her eyes as she drops back into her seat, strawberry margarita in hand.
I glance over at Chey sheepishly, nudging the lime margarita toward her.
“You could’ve just asked me, y’know,” Javi comments between sips of his own drink. “I know what Chey likes.”
“Well then why didn’t you speak up when I ordered both?” I scoff.
He shrugs a shoulder. “Thought you were just thirsty.”
I cut him a glare, then roll my eyes and turn my attention back to Cheyenne. She’s staring down at the lime margarita, but she’s made no move to take it. In fact, she’s not moving at all. It’s like she’s frozen in place, her amber eyes glazed over and her breath coming out in short bursts.
My inner wolf surges to the surface, and I suddenly realize the anxiety I’m feeling isn’t only mine. I can feel hers through our bond. She’s covering it well, but she’s freaking out right now.
Was it the hug? The people staring? The drink?
Whatever caused this reaction, I need to fix it.
“You look beautiful,” I remark, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.
Chey lifts her gaze, giving me a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “Thanks, this is my best shirt,” she jokes, the color draining from her face as she darts another glance around the crowded restaurant. “Excuse me.”
Before I can even process what’s happening, she abruptly slides out of the booth, jolting up to her feet and making a mad dash for the restroom.
“Is she okay?” Lo asks, her brows pinching together in concern. “Should I go talk to her?”
“She just needs a minute,” Javi replies with a wince.
That may be true, but I’m already out of the booth and on my feet, crossing the restaurant toward the ladies’ room that Cheyenne just disappeared inside.
I don’t consider how wildly inappropriate it is to follow a woman into a public restroom.
Or that if she’s having a panic attack, as I suspect, my intruding on her could make it worse.
Suffice to say that there isn’t an ounce of rationality in my thought process as I stomp right up to the door and push it open, driven by the innate need to comfort my mate while she’s in distress.
Chey is standing at the sink with her palms pressed to the counter, hanging her head and drawing ragged breaths. She startles when I enter, jerking her head up and meeting my eyes in the mirror.
I show her my palms, lingering near the door to give her space as it swings closed behind me. “Hey, I’m just here for moral support,” I say, holding her gaze in the mirror. “It’s a panic attack, right?”
She jerks a nod, throat bobbing with a hard swallow.
“My friend Avery has them sometimes,” I murmur. “It helps her to close her eyes and focus on her breathing.”
Chey squeezes her eyes shut, drawing a deep inhale.
“She’s got a thing with small, enclosed spaces,” I continue. “This one time, we were cleaning out a storage closet at the squad complex and I bumped the chair we’d propped the door open with. It was one of those doors that locks automatically when it shuts, ya know?”
She nods numbly in acknowledgement as she blows out a steady breath.
“Well, as soon as it shut, she started freaking out. I had no clue what was going on until she told me it was a panic attack. She said she’d had them before, and it’d only get worse unless she could calm herself down somehow.
I asked her how I could help, and she had me breathe with her and tell her a story to distract her. ”
Chey’s eyes pop open, meeting mine in the mirror again.
“Is it helping?” I ask, the corner of my mouth lifting in a little smile of encouragement.
She nods again, drawing another measured breath.
“Good. So, like I said, we were stuck in there, and of course it was in the middle of a training session, so everyone else was out on the field. And I had my phone, but my friend Madd is a psycho about people having their phones on them while they’re training.
Seriously, if you ever wanna piss him off instantly, whip out your phone during practice. ”
Her shoulders shake with a soft chuckle, her tense posture gradually loosening.
“There was still another hour left of training, so it looked like we were going to be stuck in there for a while. Then I had the brilliant idea to try to break the door down with brute force.”
Chey’s brows lift.
“Yeah, not my best idea,” I mutter wryly. “I started ramming my shoulder into the door, thinking I could just Incredible Hulk the thing down. Which I totally did, by the way, but then I had a whole other issue to contend with because I dislocated my damn shoulder in the process.”
She snorts a laugh, pushing off from the sink and swiveling to face me. “Seriously?” she asks, arching a brow.
“Seriously,” I reply, my lips pulling into a grin. “Hurt like a bitch to get it popped back in, but it was worth it to break us outta there. And hey, who knew that learning about how to deal with a panic attack would come in handy someday with my fated mate?”
Her amber eyes glimmer in amusement as she smiles softly. She’s still a little pale, but she already looks a hell of a lot better than when I entered. “Thank you,” she rasps.
“Anytime,” I reply with a dip of my chin.
“God, I’m so embarrassed,” Chey groans, scrubbing a hand over her face. “I’m sorry, Iver, you shouldn’t have to deal with this kind of shit.”
“Hey, don’t apologize,” I scoff. “You already told me you didn’t like to be touched. I should’ve respected that, and I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself from now on.”
“No,” she grits out, shaking her head. “Don’t.”
I furrow my brow in confusion.
Definitely getting mixed signals here.
“Just…” she trails off with another heavy sigh, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “Can I try something?”
“Of course,” I reply without hesitation.
Chey nods slowly, her expression shifting to one of determination as she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. “Okay,” she breathes, striding in my direction.
I remain standing still as she approaches, cautiously optimistic when she spreads her arms and goes in for a hug. The warmth of her chest bleeds into mine as she presses herself close, resting her cheek against my pounding heart.
Fuck, it feels so good to be close to her like this.
“Can I…?”
“Yes,” she whispers, and I loop my arms around her body, a contented growl rumbling in my chest as I hold my mate for the first time.
Sure, it’s just a simple hug, but something profound settles between us as we linger in that embrace. She’s lowering her guard, letting me in, and I’m determined to take this slow and do it right. Earn her trust, bit by bit.
Thankfully, this hug doesn’t result in another panic attack. In fact, when we break apart, Chey looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her. An easy smile spreads across her face as she gazes up at me through her eyelashes, tipping her head toward the door. “We should probably get back out there.”
“Probably,” I chuckle, stepping aside and gesturing for her to lead the way.
The date goes a whole lot better after that.
We return to the table, and Javi and Lo play off our absence like nothing happened.
We order more drinks, have some food, and listen to Javi tell a ridiculous joke about a talking muffin.
The conversation flows easily, and I laugh so hard that I give myself a stomachache.
All in all, I’d call it a success, even if it did start out rough.
But the best part?
When the date’s over and we’re about to part ways, Chey goes in for another hug; one that isn’t stilted or forced. It feels natural; righter than anything in my life ever has.
It’s perfect, just like she is in my eyes.