Chapter 8
“Oh my God, there you are!” Huntley jumps up from her spot at the table in the middle of the room, grabbing me and pulling me toward the group congregating with her. “I thought you decided to ghost us as soon as we all left.”
Going out after the Saturday performance is a way of life for most of the philharmonic. Certainly for the low strings. It’s a time I enjoy and look forward to.
Except tonight.
I keep my eyes away from the bar, not wanting to see Rylan before I’ve decided I can actually handle being around him tonight. I’d thought, after the date with Dominic went so well, I wouldn’t react to Rylan quite so much. That the forced nearness of my crashing at his place would be less overwhelming. Somehow, it’s managed to do the exact opposite. How can I be so enthralled with Dominic and yet so torn and twisted up over a man that hasn’t ever noticed me aside from polite discourse over the last couple years? At best, he offers me a small greeting. At worst, he ignores me outright, frowning and scowling any time our eyes accidentally meet during rehearsal.
I drop into one of the brown chairs, leaning back and shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from fidgeting with my hair. If Huntley hasn’t figured out I’m a mess this week, my nervous tick will be sure to give me away. Liz and Mason take pictures across from me, messing with their hair and adjusting how they’re sitting to get a different background. Huntley laughs and passes me a tumbler full of amber-colored liquid.
“Got it when we got here. Didn’t realize you’d be so long,” she explains with a shoulder shove. She blows out a breath as she sits down next to me, swirling the straw in her cocktail and staring at me with far too much intensity. I murmur a small thanks and take a sip, appreciating the burn of the whiskey as I force myself to take in the bar around me.
It’s not the one we typically choose as a group. The lights are low, the walls painted a deep forest green. Various bicycle memorabilia decorate the space, large wooden-spoked wheels taking up significant portions of the walls without making it feel cluttered or overbearing. My gaze inevitably lands on Rylan as I take in the space. He leans against the bar top, his legs spread wide, his hair disheveled. He’s taken off the flesh-tone neck covering that hides his dual snake tattoo that spreads across his throat and up into his hairline behind his ear. Huntley hums next to me, and I shoot her a look that conveys my feelings over the whole situation.
She, of course, ignores the warning.
“You going to finally talk to him?” she asks before taking a drink.
“I have a second date planned with another man,” I say. She raises an eyebrow in silent demand for more information.
If we were anything but Betas, my upcoming second date wouldn’t really matter. Alphas almost always congregate, forming groups naturally. It helps offset the significantly lower occurrence of Omegas—and helps with handling heats, too, I imagine. Instead of only one Alpha to satisfy an Omega, there’s two or three or even four sometimes.
But the reality is that we are Betas. Sure, there’s polyamorous people outside of their designations. But the odds of both of these men being interested in that type of arrangement are low, especially given their opposed views on registering with the Council.
Huntley shakes her head when I stay silent.
“Why does no one else ever notice how stubborn you are?” she asks.
I manage to laugh as I take another sip of my whiskey. “They tend to be blinded by the smile.”
Huntley nods. “True. And the blond hair, blue eyes, and body like you’re an athlete instead of a cellist don’t hurt, either.”
“That, too.” I smirk and set down the tumbler. The moment of levity is short lived, though, and I’m sighing before I can even help it, my gaze drifting back to Rylan like he’s magnetically charged or something. His eyes flick to me for a moment before returning to the other bassist joining him at the bar.
“Dare you to hit on him tonight.”
Huntley’s words are bold enough that Liz and Mason look up from their phones.
“Who? Hit on who?” Liz asks, leaning forward.
Mason talks over her. “We want to help! You haven’t been interested in anyone in ages, Jas.”
Liz’s phone flashes with a message, but she flips it over as she purses her lips.
“We need to do it now,” she says. “The guys are going to be here soon, and God knows they’ll make it a big deal. They’re convinced they’re matchmakers now after the gala.”
Huntley shakes her head, getting distracted. “As if they’re the ones that actually got you guys put together.”
Liz nods and twists in her seat. I don’t realize what she’s doing in time to deflect my gaze from Rylan.
“Oh, seriously?” she gasps, practically vibrating in her seat, her phone and drink forgotten. “Yes, you have to hit on him. He’d probably die of shock and then make out with you right here in the bar.”
I scoff and roll my eyes. “You have no idea what he would do.”
“Yes, we do,” Mason says, his tone matter-of-fact. He takes another drink from the clear cocktail in front of him. “Just because you’re blind doesn’t mean the rest of us are, Jasper.”
I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table, setting my tumbler down.
“What do you mean I’m blind?”
Huntley elbows me in the side. “We mean he’s totally into you. Has been since you joined.”
I shake my head. “No way. I would have noticed.”
All three of them snort and dissolve into laughter.
“Sure, Jas,” Huntley says. “You definitely weren’t a moping pile of heartbreak when you first joined and would have absolutely noticed someone flirting with you.”
“Oh my gosh, yes,” Mason gushes before taking a long drink. “So glad you smile now. And laugh. And joke. And?—”
I grunt and take another drink of the whiskey Huntley got for me. “I get it, Mason.”
His cheeks flush, but he doesn’t apologize.
“All right.” Liz claps her hands together and grins. “What’s the plan, then? You want something more traditional and in the open? Or maybe a bit more covert?”
I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling, slinging the rest of the alcohol in one large gulp.
“Covert for sure,” Mason says. “I bet I can get him sequestered near the bathrooms. It would give you a couple moments of seclusion to see what might happen.”
I love my friends, but sometimes I wish they’d just fuck off.
“Yes, perfect!” Huntley doubles down, and I know I’m going to lose.
Best to just not fight it when they all get like this.
Liz giggles. “Go, then! There needs to be enough of a gap between you both heading that way for it to not be suspicious. Give us a few minutes before coming back out, too.”
I don’t even bother fighting, dumping my empty tumbler on the table and rising from my chair. Huntley grins, her eyes too keen, as I head toward the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. It’s darker than our typical spot, a small alcove seemingly designed for small little moments like what my friends are trying to develop for me.
Do I even want it though? What good will forced interaction do if all our other interactions have been haphazard at best?
It doesn’t take long for my friends to work whatever magic I swear they wield, my thoughts dropping away. Only a couple minutes later, Rylan walks toward where I’m perched with one leg propped on the wall, playing on my phone.
“Oh shit, sorry,” he murmurs, edging around me.
I don’t manage to move quite fast enough, and our chests brush. A growl rumbles through his chest.
“Fuck me,” he mutters. He runs his hands through his hair but doesn’t step away from me. Our eyes catch, that same look blazing in his—something nearly akin to longing making them sharper. I run my tongue over my lip, trying to figure out what to say, how to make a move. Do I even want to make a move? The whiskey’s starting to affect me, my thoughts going a bit hazy at the edges.
I lean forward before I can think better of it, pressing my lips to his. It’s like something in him snaps. He grabs my hips and pulls me toward him, our chests flush against each other. I can’t quite manage to hold in the groan, and he smirks against my mouth before tracing my lip with his tongue.
“Oh shit, sorry.” Another man stumbles into Rylan as he leaves the bathroom.
Rylan pulls away from me, putting enough distance that the kiss almost feels like a dream. His cheekbones are sharp, his eyes dark and hooded.
Liz’s Alpha catches my gaze, completely unaware of what’s happening between Rylan and me.
“Oh hey, Jasper,” he says. “Long time no see. How have you been? Liz mentioned you’re seeing someone tomorrow.”
Zach moves around Rylan, holding out his hand. I offer a small nod as I take it. Instead of dropping it, he pulls me in for a fast hug.
“She said his name was Donald, I think?”
I can’t help but laugh. Of course Liz didn’t get his name right. “Dominic.”
Zach nods. “Makes way more sense. I couldn’t figure out why an Italian would be named Donald, to be honest. Well, I hope you have a good time!”
He walks away, heading back into the bar. I turn toward Rylan, trying to figure out if I should salvage whatever was happening.
The door to the bathroom hinges shut, a flash of Rylan’s wavy black hair catching my attention before I’m left in the hallway alone.
Well shit.