Chapter 6
“How can he afford to keep the A/C so low?”
It’s positively freezing as I force myself out of bed. I stretch my neck and ignore the aching sting of the hickeys left behind by Dominic. We didn’t recreate my original kissing idea, but we sure got damn close.
A shiver wracks my body, and I mutter a low curse.
“If I wanted to experience winter, I would have moved to fucking Michigan,” I say under my breath, crossing the room to the small dresser I’ve taken over as my own since being here the last few days.
Dropping to a crouch, I dig through the bottom drawer and try to find one of the hoodies I still have despite LA never really being cold enough to justify using them. A dark red catches my eye, and I breathe a sigh, letting the tension bleed from my shoulders.
Is it completely messed up that I’m wearing a hoodie Violet gave me years ago when I’m covered in hickeys from another lover?
Absolutely.
I run my hands through my hair before stretching my arms above my head, reveling in the burn of my shoulders, and ignore the stab of guilt that still hits every time I think about moving on from her.
It’s been four fucking years, for crying out loud.
She’s probably already matched and settled down with a pack at this point.
Shaking my head to force the thoughts away, I go through the motions of getting ready for the day, preparing myself for the marathon that Thursdays always are due to the double rehearsals. Once the room is cleaned and my clothes are tucked away in preparation for my next trip to the laundry room, I check the time on my phone.
“Ah, shit.” I curse and hurry into the main room to put together a quick breakfast. Rehearsal’s in less than an hour, and the public transport in this section of town is less than ideal. Rylan glances up from where he’s going through paperwork at the island counter.
“Seattle? Really?” he asks, his voice still raspy with sleep. It goes straight to my dick, but I do my best to ignore it.
“Lived there my whole life. Seemed natural to do undergrad there, too,” I say. I leave out the fact that I stayed in Seattle—and turned down the full ride another school had offered me my sophomore year in college—to be nearer to Violet while she finished out high school.
Fuck all that it ended up mattering.
I force my thoughts away from that whole last week I lived there and focus instead on grabbing the leftover sandwich from yesterday’s lunch. As I grab the binder of music from where I’d left it perched on the small side table beside the lounge chair, my curiosity gets the best of me.
“Is that something for the orchestra?” I ask before taking a bite.
Rylan shakes his head before carefully flipping over one of the sheets, covering any pertinent info.
“It’s my registration renewal with the Council,” he says after a moment. He scratches at the twin snakes that run up the right side of his neck.
Unease has my stomach knotting up. “I didn’t realize you were registered with a pack.” I keep the comment neutral, doing my best to keep the stab of jealousy out of my voice. “Have you been to any of the galas?”
Have you seen Violet?
Rylan scoffs. “I wish.”
That stab deepens to a sharp twist, but I force myself to breathe through it.
“This is my registration for the Haven. I have to supply updated information every three months.” He continues on, completely at ease. He pulls a pen from his pocket and signs the bottom of one of the pages before reorganizing the papers and slipping them into a small backpack tucked next to the door. “If the right group were to want to register, I would. But for now, I use the heat facility as a way to keep everything from becoming too overbearing.”
“Oh.”
That sounds pathetic. Oh. It even came out breathy.
Rylan glances over his shoulder. I force another bite of the sandwich, though it tastes like sandpaper now. His gaze grows sharp.
“We should get going,” he says after a minute. “You can ride with me so you don’t have to figure out which bus will get you there on time.”
I don’t have the heart to turn him down. I should, I know. Nothing good will come from me being in an even smaller space with him. I’m barely holding it together as it is.
“Let me grab my cello,” I say instead.
Always choosing the masochistic option, that’s me.
Four hours of grueling run-throughs in preparation for Saturday do nothing to tamper the restless, frustrated energy leftover from the car ride with Rylan. My fingers burn and my arms ache, but I’m still consumed with the desire to shove Rylan against a wall just to force him to react to me, to show me if he has any interest at all. That look he gave me just before we left? I can’t forget it. It’s like it’s become tattooed to the backs of my eyes. Every time I close them to focus on the music, he’s there with that sharp gaze seeing more than I wanted him to.
“We’re going out after the concert, right?” Liz asks Mason and me as we gather our music.
“Of course,” he replies. He looks over my shoulder and waves, a smile lighting his face. “Huntley! You said there was a bar you wanted to try, right?”
Huntley grabs my music and says, “Yeah, it’s in the Arts District and gets a ton of good reviews. Thought we could check it out.”
Liz laughs. “Translation: Huntley has a potential date and wants to scope out the location ahead of time.”
Huntley shrugs and flips her hair, following us as we head to the staging room to get our cellos put away. “You guys all right with that?”
“We get to know everything about this date,” Mason says. Huntley grins and pulls out her phone. I move past them, working on getting everything situated while my friends rave over whoever has caught Huntley’s attention this week.
“Jas!” Liz calls for me. All three of them are looking at me, Huntley’s phone in Mason’s outstretched hand, a picture of a beautiful brunette woman mid-laugh taking up most of the screen. “What do you think?”
“She’s beautiful,” I say, snapping the cello case closed and standing it up on its side. Huntley hands me my music, and I pull the backpack out of my storage locker and tuck it into the largest pocket. They go back to discussing the upcoming date, diving into outfit choices and best hairstyles for the vibe. I tune them out, grabbing my phone from the small side pocket of my backpack.
A single text message greets me, and the lingering frustration over Rylan dissipates at last.
Sunday night open?
My body heats, and I can’t help but laugh under my breath, giddiness overtaking my unease over whatever is happening with Rylan.
“I haven’t seen you look like that all year, Jas,” Huntley says. She crosses her arms as I glance up at her, but her smile doesn’t falter. Mason and Liz look up from the dating profile, curiosity painted across their faces. I roll my eyes and send a quick text back to Dominic.
Absolutely. Your turn to pick the venue?
I’ll grab you at 6.
“Who’s the lucky person?” Liz asks the moment I’ve tucked my phone into my back pocket. When my cheeks heat, she smirks and hands her borrowed phone back to Huntley. “Tell me you have a picture, too! I want to fawn over all of them.”
Mason shakes his head and deals with his cello. “As if you don’t have multiple options to fawn over every single day, Liz. Don’t think we’ve forgotten you have four Alphas wrapped around your finger.”
Liz sticks out her tongue and crosses her arms. “It’s not the same, Mason!”
A couple of the other musicians pause getting ready to leave, but no one says anything. Liz is prone to these little moments. It’s something most of us are going to miss when she retires after this season.
“Besides, Zach has been gone all week on a training mission.” Liz’s tone takes on a worried feel, and she crosses her arms over her stomach, her eyes widening. Mason touches her arm in silent acknowledgement, and the rare moment of her being a vulnerable Omega dissipates as quickly as it came.
Huntley doesn’t give up on her quest for information.
“Is it that guy you saw yesterday?”
I don’t answer, but that’s answer enough for her.
“Oh shit!” she grins and elbows me again. “He must have really liked you! Tell me you’re going out again.”
I shoulder my cello and cross the room, and she keeps stride without issue. The others follow close behind.
“Come on, tell us, Jas!” Liz pokes my side. “What’s his name? How many times have you gone out? Have you gone exclusive?”
Rylan walks through the door as we’re just getting to it. He offers a quick apology but doesn’t look at me as he steps to the side, giving us enough room to get through.
“I think I have a photo, actually,” Huntley says. “He sent me one when they started chatting on the dating app.”
I could kill her and only feel a small bit of remorse.
Rylan pauses just beyond the door, his hand tightening on the door frame. Something too similar to guilt twists my gut, though I refuse to figure out why.
The words come pouring out of my mouth before I even realize what I’m saying.
“Let it rest,” I say. “It was just one date. No big deal. If something else happens, I’ll tell you.” All three of them purse their lips, and Huntley keeps navigating something on her phone. Time for more drastic measures. “Huntley, what’s her name? When are you meeting up?”
Huntley gives me a long, unimpressed look, knowing exactly what I’m doing.
“Liz,” a male voice says beyond us.
Liz legitimately squeaks and then takes off, leaving her cello behind as she catapults herself into a tall man’s arms, not bothering to double check that he’ll actually catch her. He buries his nose into her throat, breathing deeply even as she gushes and laughs and twists her hands into his hair. Neither seem to mind that he’s still in military fatigues, though the man standing beside them sighs.
“I missed you,” she says eventually.
“You owe me fifty, Zach,” says the other man as he steps around them and grabs the cello. He gives each of us a nod and then leads Liz and her Alpha out of the space, both of them completely lost in each other.
My chest tightens, but I force myself to ignore it. What wouldn’t I give to have that moment with someone? For some reason, I glance back at Rylan. He’s staring at me, that same look sharpening his eyes that he had earlier in the apartment. Heat flashes through me.
“Suppose that means she’s not coming to trivia,” Mason says.
Huntley laughs, breaking my attention. “She’s too busy coming another way.”
I roll my eyes and glance back toward Rylan just in time to see him duck into the staging room, the dual snakes of his tattoo flashing under the lights. That same foreign sensation twists in my gut. Huntley elbows me when she realizes I’m not paying attention.
“You still good for trivia tonight?”
I force a swallow to wet my suddenly dry mouth. “Yeah, H. Of course I am.”