Chapter 5
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My hands shake a little as I sit back up, tucking the napkin back in my lap with a nervous chuckle.
I try to catch my breath, and calm the heck down in those brief moments of having an excuse to pull my focus away, but the anxiety slams back into me the second I look back up at the alpha across from me.
Oscar.
God, it’s like they tore him directly from a made-for-TV movie about Valentine’s Day blind dates and plopped him right in front of me.
Tall, dressed in a suit that fits his muscular body, a perfectly, chiseled jaw with a curated amount of five-o’clock shadow, dark brown hair coiffed so not a lock is out of place, and bright green eyes that watch me with keen interest. His fawn skin is glowing in the restaurant light, for fuck’s sake.
Or maybe that’s highlighter. Makeup would explain how he looks like he doesn’t have any pores.
I consider pinching myself to see if this is actually a dream, because he’s…unreal.
It freaks me out.
Oscar flashes his perfectly aligned pearly teeth at me as I force myself to meet his eyes.
“It’s okay to be nervous, Archie.” He reaches across the table and sets his hand atop mine. “I’m nervous too.”
The gesture is meant to be comforting, but it makes my omega want to shrink back because the weight of his larger hand and the way he’s gripping my fingers don’t feel reassuring as much as it feels…dominating. Plus, I hate when people call me Archie.
Despite what he said, I don’t think he’s nervous at all. Which is weird. Blind dates are awkward and stilted and strange. But he rocked up into the restaurant, and greeted me with a charming, easy smile, like he has nothing to be worried about. Like he already knows things will go well.
Which I guess makes sense. I can’t imagine most omegas wouldn’t swoon the second they met Oscar.
I’m the one that doesn’t fit in this romantic movie meet cute.
“So, Archie, tell me about yourself,” Oscar says, sitting back in his chair and taking a sip of his champagne. Because yes, the man ordered us champagne.
Which is sweet. Romantic, I guess.
But also, I wasn’t planning on drinking tonight because I haven’t had the chance to eat anything since before work this morning.
Also, I realized as I was getting ready that I’d forgotten to take my suppressant, so I took that right before I came.
Alcohol and heat suppressants on an empty stomach is not a good combo.
Oscar insisted, saying he could afford it “no problem.” And that I was “worth it.”
Again, it should be flattering, but all I could think was that he’s trying to get me drunk so I’ll go back to his place. That the cost of a nice bottle of champagne is the price of me taking his knot.
A knot which I came here hoping would be my first, if we hit it off, so I don’t know why I’m being weird about it.
Dammit, I wish I didn’t have my fucking paranoid dad’s voice in my mind telling me I shouldn’t be here. That I’m not safe with any alphas.
I take a swig of my champagne before I answer him, praying that it’ll help chill me out a bit. My pulse spikes when his keen green eyes drop to watch my throat work as I swallow the liquid.
It should be sexy. It objectively is sexy, the slight flare of heated interest as he looks at me.
God, I need to relax.
I down half the glass.
Oscar grins at me, like he’s pleased by that.
“Well, um, I make candles. As my job, not a hobby. Though I guess it started as a hobby? Anyway, I, uh, I work with scents, so actually, not just candles.” I laugh awkwardly.
The alpha smiles back at me indulgently. “That’s so cute. Do you sell them at craft fairs and stuff like that?”
It’s hard not to bristle at him calling my passion and livelihood “cute,” but I’m sure he meant nothing by it. “Uh, I used to when I first got started, but last year, I opened a storefront. Perfect Scent Match. You may have seen it, it’s not too far from here, over in Eastside near the—”
“I don’t spend much time in Eastside,” Oscar interrupts, sounding amused at the suggestion that he would.
“Oh, well, okay…”
He gives me a not so subtle once over. “But I could be persuaded to go more often.”
A flush rises on my cheeks. “Oh okay. I’ve been told I can be persuasive.”
Mostly by Queen when I’m asking her for help on a quest.
“I bet you have.” Oscar’s voice dips low.
My blush burns brighter.
This is going well. He’s hot, and he’s into me. It’s what I wanted…kind of.
What should be butterflies in my stomach are more like pangs of anxiety and the sloshing of champagne with nothing to soak it up.
“So, uh, anyway, what about you? What do you do?”
Oscar raises a brow at me. “Parker didn’t tell you?”
“No? Should he have?” If this man tells me he’s some mafia leader or secret billionaire, then I’ll really know I’m stuck in a romance.
“No, I just get a lot of people who say yes to a date with me because they know I have money.”
“I’m sure a lot also want to go out with you because of your looks.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them, because the way he grins at me, like I’m practically getting down on the floor and presenting to him, makes me shiver.
I clear my throat. “But uh, you still haven’t told me what you do.”
Oscar pauses, leaning forward like he’s going to reveal something dramatic. With a cocky smile, he says, “Finance.”
It takes all my composure not to laugh at how impressive he seems to think that is.
“Oh. Nice.” I sit back and sip my champagne again.
He sits back too, his smile growing smug. “Not as impressive as making candles, but it pays the bills.”
You know what? I think I hate this guy.
The food arrives, which is a relief because I really didn’t want to deal with this alpha demeaning my work and acting like he’s god’s gift to omegas.
I can’t hide my grimace when the waiter sets a plate in front of me, but Oscar either doesn’t notice or care. The waiter refills my champagne before I can tell him I don’t want any more. My stomach already is unhappy and the smell of seafood isn’t helping.
“Enjoy,” the server says before heading off again, and I mutter my thanks, even though I’m not thankful at all.
Why the hell did I let Oscar order for me? He’d insisted we get oysters, telling me I’d love them. Even after I said I’m not a big fan of any kind of seafood.
Oscar watches me expectantly. “Go on, try it.”
I poke at the disgusting substance in one of the shells with the tiny fork, and give him an apologetic half-smile. “I’m not sure…”
“Don’t be nervous. I’ll help you.” He winks and reaches over and takes the fork from my hand without asking, uses it to separate the…meat? Body? Ugh, this is so gross.
When I do nothing, eyes wide with panic, he chuckles and picks it up, leaning forward and bringing the shell to my lips.
I fight back a gag at the briny smell, and against all my better judgment, I open my lips to appease him, letting him tip the contents into my mouth.
Oh god. It’s a fight to swallow the slimy, mucusy, horrid thing down.
Oscar sits back. “So good, right?”
I try to reply, but my stomach roils. I push myself up from the table. “Sorry, I need to…”
Shit, I can’t open my mouth again or I’m going to be sick right here at the table.
I rush off before he can try to stop me, almost crashing into a server pushing a cart of desserts, praying I make it to the bathroom in time.
I do. Barely.
Wiping at my mouth, I groan as I kneel in front of the blessedly pristine toilet and hope that’s all of it. When my stomach feels settled enough, I get up on wobbly legs and flush. I stare at the stall door, unable to get myself to go out. Unable to go back to my date.
I take a seat on the toilet, sighing as I rest my head in my hands. As I’m contemplating how to sneak out of the restaurant without Oscar seeing me, someone enters the bathroom.
At first, I think they’re talking to me when I hear a warm voice say, “It’s okay.”
I startle and go to reply, but she speaks again.
“I don’t know. He’s sweet. Better than I expected.”
The stall door next to mine creaks open.
A soft chuckle echoes against the tile. “Yes, he’s hot.” Another pause and the sound of rustling. “Ugh, shut up! That’s not going to happen. I don’t care if he’s bangable, that’s not why we’re here.”
I feel like an absolute creep lurking in the stall next to this omega, listening to her conversation, but there’s something soothing about her voice. Besides, I’m not ready to go out there and face my date, which seems to be a train wreck compared to hers.
I feel even creepier for listening when she pees. “Yes, I’m pissing!” she huffs to whoever is on the other end of her call. “You’re the one who wanted an update, so deal with it.”
My smile at her sass is the first genuine one I’ve made all night.
“It’s weird…yeah…exactly. I mean, I’m glad we can’t, but it’s like my body still senses what he is? Which could be good, or it could be leading me to like him more than I would otherwise.”
She sighs and I have the terrible compulsion to go out of the stall and offer her a hug when she’s done. There’s a rustle of toilet paper and another laugh, then she’s flushing and leaving the stall.
I wait for her to wash her hands, hang up with whoever she’s talking to, and leave before I slink out of my stall.
My sallow reflection startles me. For a minute, I’d forgotten how shitty I feel.
I scowl as I wash my hands, noticing a fleck of oyster on my collar. The soap has an unusual scent. It reminds me of those candy hearts you get with little messages on them. I forget what they’re called. I let out a soft groan at the smell, bringing my hands to my mouth to get a better sniff.
Huh, it’s not the soap.
Whatever it is, it smells amazing. Intoxicating. Makes me want to find the source and lick it.
Damn, I thought I’d gotten the alcohol out of my system, but I guess I’m tipsy.
Just how I want to feel when I go back out there to finish up this bad date. Fuzzy and warm and a touch horny. Please, dear god don’t let him be able to smell that last part.
I wash my mouth out as best I can, ignoring the tingly way I’m feeling and how I’m growing a little slick. I’m sure it’ll go away when I’m back at the table and have to explain why I was gone and find a way to finish up this date as fast as possible.
There’s a pang of envy for the mystery omega and her date. Clearly, she was into him, despite her trepidation.
Must be nice.