Chapter 13 - Lola
She wasn’t used to warmth like this.
Not the temperature, exactly, though the room was certainly warm, but the weight of another body, heavy and grounded beside her, anchoring her like she wasn’t used to being held.
Dane was on his back, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other draped around her waist, bare skin to bare skin beneath the sheets.
His breathing was slow, even, steady. Like he had no doubts. No regrets.
Lola, by contrast, had never felt more aware of every single part of her body. Her heart. Her thoughts. Her mouth, which she was desperately trying not to open in case it said something idiotic.
She’d never done this before.
Not the sex, though that was hardly routine either, but this. The after. The lying-in-the-dark, skin-still-humming part. The part where someone else’s scent clung to her skin and her heart kept tripping over itself like it hadn’t gotten the memo that this was temporary.
She was curled into him, half on his chest, her legs tangled with his, and somehow it was the most relaxed her body had felt in weeks. And the tensest her mind had ever been.
Because what happened next?
Was there a next?
She glanced up at him, her cheek still resting against his chest. He looked unfairly peaceful, like this was just another night for him. Like it hadn’t shaken the ground beneath her feet.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
God. What was she even supposed to say? ‘Thanks for the orgasm, good luck with the murderous alpha wolf you’re tracking?’ That didn’t exactly scream confidence.
Still, the silence was stretching, and if she didn’t say something soon, she was going to spiral herself into a black hole of awkwardness.
“So,” she blurted, “Is this…going to be awkward in the morning?”
Dane made a low, amused noise. Almost a chuckle. His fingers, which had been idle at her hip, resumed their slow, lazy tracing.
“Or maybe not in the morning,” she continued, heat crawling up her neck, “I guess it technically is morning. Unless it’s not yet four, in which case maybe we’re back in the nighttime category? I don’t know the rules.”
His chest rumbled beneath her, and she felt the faintest shake of silent laughter. But still, he didn’t speak.
She took a deep breath and tilted her head to look at him. His eyes were open, catching the dim light. Calm. Quiet.
“You’re going to make me do all the talking, aren’t you?” she muttered.
Dane looked at her then, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Seems like you’re doing fine on your own.”
She let out a breath that was halfway to a laugh. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I tend to say a lot of things I don’t mean to. Or…things I mean, but shouldn’t say out loud. Or I say them badly. Or…”
He raised an eyebrow, and she groaned, flopping her face into his chest. “Please make me stop talking.”
He laughed then, a low, rich sound that sent shivers down her spine. His hand smoothed over her back once, twice, a long, absent stroke that threatened to unravel her all over again.
“You’re fine, professor,” he said, “you just think too hard.”
“You say that like it’s not a lifelong affliction.”
“Might be,” he murmured, “but it’s kind of cute.”
That stopped her breath short.
Cute?
Dane calling her cute felt like someone had short-circuited her brain. Not hot. Not sexy. Not proper. Just…cute. The word sat in her chest like a soft little bomb.
She tried to cover her reaction with a snort. “Well, don’t let that get around. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”
“Of what? Startling civilians with dissertation trivia?”
She elbowed him lightly in the ribs, and he caught her wrist, tugging her up until her face hovered above his. Their noses nearly brushed, and his eyes were darker now, slower. Warmer.
“You’re thinking again,” he murmured.
“I can’t help it.”
His fingers tightened just slightly around her wrist. Not rough. Just…grounding.
Lola’s heart skittered.
She wanted to kiss him again.
She wanted to stay right here forever.
She wanted to ask a thousand questions and take it all back at the same time.
Instead, she said, “This is weird for me.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t usually…do this.”
“Sleep with, what was it…uncivilized enforcers?”
A surprised laugh escaped her before she could stop it, “No. I mean…yes. Obviously, no. But I also don’t usually feel”—she paused, fingers tightening in the sheet—“connected. To anyone.”
His gaze softened a fraction.
“I was always a bit of a stray,” she said, not quite looking at him, “even in my home pack. I always felt like I was watching everyone else belong. Like I had the wrong manual for how to be a person.”
“That’s bullshit.”
She glanced at him, startled.
“You’re sharp as hell,” he said, “and you care. Even when you pretend you don’t. But I see you, Lola. I know how much you care.”
Her throat tightened.
She wasn’t going to cry.
She wasn’t.
It was just…no one had ever said it like that before.
She tucked herself closer against his side, hiding her face in his shoulder, because if she looked at him any longer, she might ask if he meant it. If any of this meant anything. And she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear the answer.
Instead, she let the quiet settle between them again, just this side of peaceful.
But of course, after a while, familiar thoughts and insecurities began to bubble up against her will. She tried to push them away. Tried to focus on the here and the now and not worry about the future.
In the end, however, it was an itch she had no choice but to scratch.
She knew better than to push.
But the words bubbled up anyway.
“So…are we, like, a thing now?”
The energy in the room changed, the warmth becoming slightly too oppressive, the calm ruptured into tense anticipation. Dane’s muscles flexed under her touch, growing still, as if ready to bolt.
She swallowed, panic rising in her throat.
Dane didn’t move for a second. Then he shifted under her, just enough to reach for the hoodie tossed over the edge of the bed. He tugged it on without looking at her.
Her stomach dropped.
“Right,” she said quickly, trying to soften it with a laugh, “cool. Totally normal. Just…just checking.”
He rubbed a hand over his face and let out a breath, “Lola, I’m not…this isn’t my thing, alright?”
“What isn’t your thing? Talking? Communication in general?”
“No…well, yes, but I mean this,” he said, gesturing vaguely between them. “You. Me. Whatever this is.”
“That’s what I’m asking,” she said, her voice wobbling slightly, “what is this?”
He didn’t answer.
She sat up a little straighter, sheet clutched to her chest, “I’m not trying to trap you or anything, I just…I need to know. I need to understand if I’m supposed to pretend this didn’t happen or if it’s okay that I—”
“Lola.”
She froze. He wasn’t yelling, but the way he said her name, frustrated, exasperated, like she was making a mess out of something simple, hit her like a slap.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, pulling away a little, “I didn’t mean to…sorry.”
“No, don’t….” He sighed and sat up, elbows on his knees, “I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m just…God, I’m bad at this.”
“At what?”
“Relationships. Feelings. Having a conversation where I don’t say the wrong thing or screw it up halfway through.”
“You’re not screwing anything up,” she said, a little too quickly, “I mean, I’m the one who just ambushed you with a weird question while you were putting your hoodie on, so really—”
“I just think maybe we shouldn’t make a big deal out of it,” he interrupted, voice awkward and stumbling. “It happened. It was…nice. But things are complicated right now.”
Lola blinked.
“Complicated how?”
He stood up and grabbed his sweatpants from the floor, facing away from her like the conversation physically pained him, “Red Teeth is out there. Felix is on edge. The pack’s tightening patrols, and I’ve got responsibilities. Real ones. Not just babysitting shifts between hook-ups.”
“So… this was just a hook-up then?”
He froze.
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean, Dane?” she pressed, more force behind her words than she meant. “Because you’re giving a lot of reasons why this can’t mean anything, but none of them actually sound like the truth.”
He turned toward her, arms crossed, frowning like he wished she’d just stop talking.
“You want the truth?” he snapped. “The truth is, I don’t know what I’m doing, alright?
You and Sam… you’re the only reason I’ve even remotely kept my shit together the past few months.
And now we’ve gone and added…whatever this is to the mix, and I don’t know what that means or what I’m supposed to do with it. ”
She stared at him, heart thudding in her chest. “You could start by not acting like I’ve done something wrong by asking.”
“I’m not blaming you, Lola! I’m trying to keep things from going sideways before they even start.”
“Then say that!” Her voice cracked with frustration. “Say you’re scared or confused or just not interested in me that way, don’t hide behind excuses about Red Teeth or the pack!”
Dane opened his mouth like he might say something else, but nothing came out.
Lola stood up, wrapping the sheet tightly around her. She felt ridiculous, naked, embarrassed, stupid for thinking maybe this time something real could come from something messy.
“I thought we were friends,” she said softly.
“We are.”
“Then why does this feel like I just got broken up with from something I didn’t even know I was in?”
He looked at her like he wanted to fix it. But all he did was nod, jaw clenched, gaze low.
That was it.
No apology. No explanation. Just silence.
Her heart was splintering in slow motion.
“I need to check on Sam,” she said, already stepping past him.
“He’s not crying.”
“He might be.”
She didn’t wait for him to stop her.
She didn’t want to hear another excuse.
She walked out of the room, her shoulders stiff, every step aching with the weight of disappointment.