Chapter 14 Alpha Weirdo
ALPHA WEIRDO
ARTEMIS
Iwas excited about my coffee date with Tyson. I was also terrified.
Not because Tyson wasn't great. He absolutely was. Sweet, funny, athletic, the kind of guy who remembered details about conversations and asked thoughtful follow-up questions. Exactly the type of person I should be thrilled to go out with.
Which was exactly the problem.
At the beach on Tuesday, everything had been perfect. Natural. Easy. I'd been confident and flirty and completely myself. But that was with everyone around, with Gryff right there beside me, his familiar presence making everything feel safe.
Now it was just going to be Tyson and me. No buffer. No safety net. No Gryff.
“You're going to be fine,” Gryff said from the couch, not looking up from his tablet. “Just do what we've been practicing.”
“The trust exercises?”
“Yeah. Eye contact, being present, asking for what you need. All that stuff.” He finally looked up, and something flickered across his face too quickly for me to read. “Tyson seems like the kind of guy who'd appreciate that direct approach.”
“You think so?”
“Definitely. In fact...” He set down his tablet and sat up straighter. “You should definitely do the eye contact thing. Guys love that. Shows confidence.”
“The thirty-second stare?”
“Exactly. And remember to maintain it. Don't look away first. It's about dominance, I mean, connection. Deep connection.”
Something about his tone seemed off, but I was too nervous to analyze it. “What if it gets weird?”
“It won't. Trust me. You two had great chemistry at the beach. This is just building on that.” He stood up, stretching. “Oh, and Tyson loves sweet coffee drinks. Like, really sweet. Extra pumps of everything.”
“Really? He seems more like a black coffee guy.” I didn't remember him eating sweets at brunch.
“Nope. Total secret sweet tooth. He mentioned it at practice.” Gryff headed toward the kitchen. “Actually, you should order for him. Shows you were paying attention to details about him.”
“That seems kind of presumptuous...”
“It's confident. Guys like confidence, right?” He was rummaging in the fridge now, his back to me. “Just trust me. I know Tyson. This is what he responds to.”
I nodded, filing away his advice. Gryff knew Tyson better than I did, had been practicing with him all summer. If anyone would know what worked, it would be him.
“Text me if you need anything,” he added, still facing the fridge. “I'll just be here. Working out. Definitely not thinking about your date at all.”
“Thanks,” I said, grabbing my purse. “You're the best friend ever.”
He made a sound that might have been agreement or might have been choking. Hard to tell.
The coffee shop in Venice Beach was cute—all exposed brick and Edison bulbs, the kind of place that photographed better than it actually functioned. Tyson was already there when I arrived, looking unfairly good in jeans and a tank that showed off exactly how built he was.
“Hey,” he said, standing to greet me. “You look great.”
“Thanks. You too.” I could do this. I'd been practicing. I knew exactly what to do.
We got in line, making small talk about traffic and the weather, and I kept thinking about what Gryff had said. Be confident. Order for him. Show that I'd been paying attention.
“What can I get you?” the barista asked when we reached the counter.
“I'll have a large strawberry matcha,” I said, then turned to Tyson with what I hoped was a confident smile. “And he'll have a large hot honeycomb latte with extra vanilla sweet cream foam, oh and add a couple extra pumps of vanilla.”
Tyson's eyebrows shot up. “I... what?”
Oh. My. God. I’d just ordered Gryff’s drink. For my date. Who was not Gryff.
Panic mode one hundred percent activated. “Gryff mentioned you like sweet drinks.”
“Gryff said that?” He looked genuinely confused, then a slow grin spread across his face. “Did he now? That's interesting, considering I've been drinking black coffee in front of him every morning for weeks.”
“Oh.” My face went hot. “I can change it—“
“No, it's fine. I'll try it.” He was clearly fighting back laughter. “This should be educational.”
Strike one.
We found a table by the window, and I tried to recover. Maybe the eye contact thing would help. That had been working so well with Gryff, creating this intense, intimate connection. Surely it would work with Tyson too.
“So,” I said, once we were settled with our drinks, “want to try something?”
“Sure?”
“Let's just... look at each other, like into each other's eyes. For thirty seconds. No talking.” I leaned forward, fixing my gaze on his. “It's about connection.”
“Is this a staring contest?” He looked more amused than uncomfortable.
“No, it's about being present. Intimate. Trust me.”
I set the timer on my phone and then locked eyes with him, trying to recreate that electric feeling from my exercises with Gryff. But instead of intensity, there was just... awkwardness. Tyson's eyes were crinkling at the corners like he was trying very hard not to laugh.
Ten seconds felt like ten minutes.
“This is weird,” he said at fifteen seconds, but he was smiling.
“Just a little longer,” I insisted, leaning in more.
“Artemis, you look like you're trying to download my thoughts directly into your brain.”
“I'm not, it's supposed to be intimate.”
“It's intense, I'll give you that.” He finally broke, laughing. “Is this something from a magazine? 'Ten ways to hypnotize your date'?”
I broke eye contact, mortified. “Sorry. I was just trying to... connect.”
“Maybe we could just talk?” he suggested, taking a large gulp of his too sweet coffee and immediately making a face. “Whew, this is like drinking candy.”
My phone buzzed.
GRYFF
How's it going? Use the eye contact yet?
It didn't go well. He said I looked like I was trying to download his thoughts.
You probably weren't doing it right. Try again. But this time, touch his hand while you do it.
That seems like a lot
Trust me. Physical contact enhances the connection.
I looked up at Tyson, who was stirring his drink, presumably to make it tolerable.
“Sorry about the coffee thing,” I said. “I thought—“
“It's fine. Just unexpected.” He pushed the drink aside. “So tell me about your rugby training. How's it going?”
This was better. Normal conversation. I could do this.
“It's good. Intense. I actually have been working on being more present in my body, more aware of what I need.”
He gave me a once over, and that sparkle in his eye told me he liked what he saw. “That's... good?”
“Yeah, like right now, I need...” What did I need? What had Gryff taught me to ask for? “I need someone who notices when I need water without me having to ask.”
Tyson looked at the water glasses on our table, then back at me. “There's literally water right there.”
“No, I mean, metaphorically. Or actually both.” Why was this so hard? With Gryff, expressing needs felt natural. “I need someone who anticipates my needs.”
He tipped his head to the side, thinking. “Like a psychic?”
“No, like... forget it.”
My phone buzzed again.
GRYFF
How's it going now?
I'm dying. This is awful.
Try the vulnerability thing. Tell him something real.
Like what?
Like how you've been told you're bad in bed.
WHAT? No!
Trust me. Vulnerability is attractive.
I looked at Tyson, who was now scrolling through his phone probably because I'd been on mine. This was going so badly already. Maybe radical honesty would help?
“I've been told I'm bad in bed,” I blurted out.
Tyson nearly choked on his sugar-coffee. “I'm sorry, what?”
“I'm being vulnerable. Sharing something real.” Oh god, why had I listened to Gryff? “Multiple people have said I'm not good at... intimacy.”
“And you're telling me this because...?”
“Vulnerability is attractive?”
He stared at me for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Artemis, you're trying so hard right now. Like, SO hard. It's actually kind of adorable.”
“It is?”
“In a train wreck sort of way.” He was grinning now. “Let me guess, you read some dating advice article? Or wait, did Gryff—?”
“No. Maybe. Sort of.”
“This is like watching someone follow IKEA instructions for a first date. Step one: order for him. Step two: intense eye contact. Step three: overshare dramatically.”
Despite my mortification, I found myself laughing too. “It's that obvious?”
“Honey, you just announced you're bad in bed as a conversation starter. Yeah, it's obvious.” But his tone was warm, not mean. “Look, you were completely natural at the beach. Funny, confident, yourself. This...” he gestured vaguely, “this is like you're playing a character in a bad rom-com.”
My phone buzzed again.
GRYFF
Maybe you should kiss him. Reset the energy.
Now???
Quick kiss. Shows confidence.
I was desperate enough to try anything. I leaned across the table quickly, aiming for Tyson's lips.
Except he was reaching for his water at the exact same moment.
Our faces collided with a crack that made people at nearby tables turn to look. His nose hit my cheek, my chin knocked into his jaw, and we both jerked back with matching expressions of pain and surprise.
“Ow. What the...?” He touched his nose, checking for blood.
Oh my gawd. I was going to murder my best friend later. They'd make a documentary about us, I was sure of it. “I was trying to kiss you.”
Tyson touched his nose, clearly looking for the break. “Why?”
“To reset the energy.”
“What energy?”
This was an absolute disaster. Everything I'd practiced, everything that worked with Gryff, was failing spectacularly.
My phone was buzzing nonstop now.
GRYFF
What's happening?
Are you okay?
I'm coming.
Tyson moved like he was going to leave, probably to go call 9-1-1 to report that his date had assaulted him and he needed medical assistance.
“Wait—“
But then, like he'd been summoned by the sheer force of my humiliation, Gryff appeared in the coffee shop, protein shake in hand, looking like he'd just happened to be in the neighborhood.