Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Playing: Please Don’t Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Aplin
Spice. Warmth. Alpha .
The resinous scent hits me full force and my omega silently whines in my chest. She sends me an unsolicited visual of us opening our legs up wide and letting him take care of us here and now.
I falter my line, which adds onto the mix of weird emotions going through my body. I freeze before finishing it, unable to look away from Jett as I see him in a whole new light.
He’s my scent match. My actual fate-given scent match.
And we’re currently in the middle of a scene, in front of all our peers. This is literally the worst time for my omega to send me endorphins and shine a light on how horny she is.
Jett sees the change in my face, and I catch the slightest glance of pure panic before he centers his face. He looks at me with love, which confuses me even more.
He keeps the show going and says his line… the line.
“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”
I think he says it sincerely, telling me not to move and to let him take care of it.
To take care of me . He moves forward, and I let him close the space between us as our lips mend together.
It’s soft and sweet, but I deepen it before I can think better of it, yearning to be closer to him.
His hands go to my waist, pulling me flush against him.
It makes my body sing, the way he’s pulling every anxiety out of me.
I nearly forget that we’re doing this in front of an audience.
Nearly .
Jett pulls back, and I’m breathless. His hands still hold me close, but there’s a gentleness that shows he’s trying to ease me. He caresses my cheek with a finger, and says, “Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.”
It certainly fucking is.
I shake my head, trying to come back to the scene but I’m still dizzy, his scent even more heightened by our feverous kiss.
“Then have my lips the sin that they have took,” I respond, and it’s the softest line I’ve delivered so far.
“Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
Give me my sin again.”
He kisses me again, this time with more familiarity, more confidence. I have to swallow down a moan from the intensity of it.
We separate again, and there’s a playfulness in his gaze that I’m used to. It’s something I can lean into as I say, “You kiss by the book.”
The Nurse enters the scene, beckoning Juliet away, and someone says, “Scene.”
I take a step back, suddenly horrified. But before Jett or I can say anything, an uproar of applause sounds from around the stage.
Our peers who are all standing in their own spots, and classmates who aren’t in the play, clap for us.
A few of them hoot and holler, and I put my hand to my chest in surprise.
Jett takes it in stride as a smile adorns his face. He looks much more calm than I do, but there’s a tangy nervousness in his scent.
Without the added stress of being in the middle of a scene, I have a sinking feeling.
My scent match has been lying to me.
I avoid Jett for the rest of class.
Well, I try to. We’re obviously still doing this scene together, over and over again. Luckily, Professor Chapman focuses less on me and more on how the extras act in the background. Whenever I interact with Jett, I’m actually interacting with Romeo . I’m very firm on that distinction.
My mind is reeling as I try to understand what’s happening.
It doesn’t help that my omega doesn’t give two shits about the logistics of our situation.
She only wants me to sidle up next to our alpha, but I put my foot down.
I have to figure out what this means and why I feel like a brick of asphalt has been launched into my chest.
I think back to two years ago when Jett and I first met, trying to figure out if he gave any indication that he knew we were scent matches. I come up blank. All I can remember is that first line of his.
“Thank god there’s someone who’s actually attractive in this class that I can act across.”
It was stupid and corny and I hated him from that very moment. Not to mention that ridiculous smirk. He looked at me like he knew he could get me, and that pissed me all the way off.
Had I misread him? Had I reacted to his first lame pick-up line too harshly? Am I the reason we’re in this position years later?
Is there any way he doesn’t know? Can blockers affect your own sense of smell? Maybe he couldn’t smell me either all these years.
But that doesn’t make any sense. Opal smells me and Stacia just fine. She can always tell how we’re feeling because of our scents. So that throws out that hypothesis.
The other day, he casually mentioned my love for Cherry Coke. At the time, I thought maybe it was just an observation he was embarrassed he made, but now his reaction makes sense. He knows things about me, because he’s always paid attention to me. He’s always known.
And knowing that, feeling it confirmed, cracks something wide open inside of me.
I have a scent match. An alpha . That alone terrifies me. But also, I have a scent match that’s been lying to me. I’m not exactly sure how to handle that.
At the end of class, I see the eagerness in Jett’s eyes. He makes his way towards me but I gather up my stuff and rush out of the room before he can make it through the throes of people.
“Rory, wait!” I hear behind me as I speed walk down the hall. My small strides don’t compare to his long legs, though, because he catches up to me fast. “Please, can we talk?”
I shake my head quickly because I don’t trust myself to be alone with him right now. “No, not right now.”
The look on his face is devastating. “ Please , Rory. I want to explain.”
“ I can’t ,” I hiss at him. “I just… I can’t right now, Jett.” And this time, when I walk away, he lets me.
There isn’t any air in my lungs until I walk through the front door of my house.
The second it closes behind me, I feel like I can finally breathe.
It’s embarrassing that I’m falling apart like this.
I met my scent match , and that moment is ruined by the fact that said match has known this information for years now.
Opal comes around the corner. Her eyes widen when she sees me. “Whoa, Rory, are you okay?” She comes to my side and rubs my back as I’m bent over panting and trying to breathe through the angry tears.
“I’m fine,” I say, but I know I’m not. I look at her, her scent completely invisible alongside my cranberry one. My perfume is the only scent here in this house, and that acknowledgment has me turning my attention to her. “Have you told Sam yet?”
Opal flinches. “No. I haven’t had any time to process how to go about it.”
“You’ve had nothing but time,” I nearly scream at her.
Even as I speak, I know I’m projecting but I can’t stop the words as they tumble out.
“You can’t let this go on much longer. At some point, you have to tell him , before it’s too late and you’re years into keeping a secret that you can’t fucking get out of! ”
Opal is observant, so she looks at me with a raise in her brow. Before she can get me to talk, I dash around her to get to my room. Again, when the door is shut, I release as much anguish as I can. The first tear is the hardest, because it comes out simultaneously angry and sad .
It’s the absolute worst moment for my phone to ring. When I look to see who it is, my mother’s name stares back at me. I feel a scream come up my throat but I swallow it and bury it deep down. I shut my phone off completely and toss it to the side. I can’t deal with any more craziness right now.
I crawl into my bed despite the sun being out and envelop myself underneath the covers, leaving all the problems in my life to be dealt with another day.