Chapter 27
Andi
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, leaning into Leo’s side as he helps me up the stairs.
Okay, so, turns out three shots back to back on top of the two I already pre-gamed with was a bad idea.
Has my tolerance really gotten that shitty?
I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve had any alcohol. I haven’t even had a sip since the Grammys.
Or was I just shitfaced every time I went out with Ezra?
Probably a mix of both.
“No need for you to apologize,” Leo murmurs.
My eyes drift shut, and I bury my face into his shirt. He smells like warm paper. Like a book I could bury my nose into for hours.
It’s a soft, subtler scent I can only really immerse myself in when I’m shoving my face into his side, so I think I’m just going to hang out here for now.
“What happened?” Beck asks, concern evident in his tone.
My eyes flutter open when I feel his hands brushing my hair away from my face.
“We’ve gotta go,” Leo grunts.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble again. “I fucked things up.”
“Did you have too much to drink?” Beck coos down at me.
I blink up at him, my expression crumpling when I see the kindness in his eyes.
Shit.
Well, I guess here comes the sad-drunk time of the night.
“No, I got blackmailed.” My voice and my lower lip waver. If it weren’t for Leo holding me up, I’m sure I’d be shaking in my heels right now. “I’m so sorry, Beck.”
I keep waiting for his expression to shift into anger. For him to pull me into the privacy of our booth and start yelling at me.
It’s happened before.
Man, how did I think that was okay?
Maybe because I’ve always been yelled at.
And Ezra only really yelled at me when he was drunk, so I think in my head he wasn’t actually yelling at me, the alcohol was.
But instead of getting mad, Beck looks... worried?
“What the fuck.” My head snaps up and I try to take a stumbling step backwards at the sound of the fury in Elijah’s voice.
I don’t go very far at all, considering the hold Leo has on my waist to keep me steady, but he notices the flinch.
“I—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I—” My shoulders curl in on themselves as I start babbling the only words I think will help.
“Stop,” he snaps.
Shit. Okay, looks like that didn’t help at all.
“Cool it, man, can’t you see she’s terrified?” Leo bites back.
“It’s going to be okay, Starlight,” Beck murmurs, continuing to smooth my hair back with his hands. It’s almost like he’s petting me.
It’s working.
“I know—I know I fucked up,” I say, finding the courage with Leo and Beck at my side to meet Elijah’s gaze. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t—didn’t mean to piss you off, Elijah.”
“It’s Eli,” he grunts, running a hand through his hair, his gaze shifting from mine almost immediately. He scans the room, like he’s looking for a threat. “And I’m not pissed off at you. I’m pissed at whoever the fuck decided it was a good idea to fuck with you.”
His words catch me off guard. Especially since my alcohol-muddled brain is slow to follow along with the weight of his statements.
One, he wants me to call him Eli. Not Elijah. He wants me to call him what his friends call him.
Two, is he... feeling protective over me?
No, that can’t be it. It’s probably because me getting blackmailed puts Beck in danger. They’ve been getting closer.
That has to be it.
“I’ll explain in the car. We probably... shouldn’t talk about it here,” Leo says. “I’ll go get the car.”
“You—you’re leaving?” I ask clinging to his side.
“Just for a little bit,” he says, offering me a soft smile. “Your job is to sober up a bit and sit tight until I’ve brought the car out front. Can you do that for me, Lucky Duck?”
“I’m not a lucky duck anymore.” My lower lip wobbles as the words leave my lips. For whatever reason, sad-drunk-me finds that idea heartbreaking.
“You are to me,” he says, briefly resting his forehead against mine before taking a step back.
A split second later, Beck’s hands are at my waist, guiding me so I’m sitting in the booth.
“Sorry this night didn’t go the way you probably wanted,” he murmurs, his thumbs tracing little circles on my thighs.
“No, I’m sorry for ruining your night.” My shoulders slump forward, and my throat gets thick with the urge to break out into sobs. I tilt my head back, fanning my face. “I can’t cry, I can’t cry, I can’t cry.”
“Hey, take a breath. It’s okay if you need to cry. We all cry sometimes.”
“But I can’t cry now,” I snap, my chin wavering. “Because that would fuck with my makeup and then my disgusting face would be plastered all over the internet tomorrow.”
“Stop saying stupid ass shit like that,” Eli snaps, shoving a cold glass of ice water into my hand.
“Do you have to be such an asshole all the time?” I bite back, narrowing my eyes on him.
“Pot meet fucking kettle, except you’re an asshole to yourself,” he snaps. “And I’ve never said the kinda nasty shit you say about yourself.”
I take a big gulp of water to try to cool the fire bubbling in my chest.
“Hey there, slow down. Wouldn’t want you to get sick,” Beck says, continuing with his soothing touches. “And hey, look at that! You don’t look like you’re about to cry anymore.”
He’s right.
I narrow my gaze on Eli while I bite down on some ice.
I’m trying to go for menacing, but I don’t think he’s picking up that vibe, considering the smug expression on his face.
“You’re welcome,” he drawls. “Makeup saved.”
I roll my eyes so hard it feels like the room is moving with me.
“Shut up,” I mumble, before taking another sip of the ice-cold water.
“Leo’s got the car pulled out front,” Eli says, glancing down at his phone. “Ready to go, Princess?”
“Shut up,” I repeat, setting the glass down and scooting my butt out of the booth.
Beck’s hands remain at my waist as I find my balance.
“Not very polite, are you?” Eli teases.
I flash him the finger before lacing my hand with Beck’s and heading for the stairs.
The three of us stop before the doors outside.
“Okay, it’s just a few steps to the car. Do you think you can make it without falling?” Beck asks, his brows drawn down in concern.
“Yeah,” I nod, pressing the backs of my hands into my burning cheeks. “Do I look drunk?”
“I mean, you look a little tipsy, but I think it’s cute.”
“Let’s hope the court of public opinion agrees with you.” I nod. “I’m ready.”
Eli pushes the door open in front of us. The chill of the night after the heat of the club smacks me in the face. The second Beck and I step out, we’re assaulted with a barrage of flashes that have me stopping in my tracks.
“There they are! Beckham, Andromeda, over here!”
“Leaving early? Where are you headed next!”
“Can you comment on Ezra Fletcher’s rehab stay?”
I can’t handle this.
I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.
I’m going to have a mental breakdown on this sidewalk, and it’s going to be documented by a dozen professional cameras all aimed right at me.
God, I regret drinking as much as I did. Everything is too bright. Too loud.
And then the flashes are blocked off.
Blocked off by a big, massive back.
“Back off!” Eli growls, his blood orange scent filling my lungs until it’s the only thing I can smell.
Beck squeezes my hand, bringing me back into my body. My gaze, which was probably a little frozen with panic, turns to him.
He flashes a reassuring smile at me, and I do the same, the tension in my shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.
More flashes explode, but with Eli clearing a path and Beck’s eyes on me, the three of us make it to the car without me having a full mental breakdown.
“Good job,” Eli whispers, right before he shuts the door for me.
His lingering words send a shiver running down my spine.
I curl into Beck’s side, trying to breathe through the lingering panic. His burnt caramel scent is like a balm for my frayed nerves.
Maybe Leo did have a point when he said omegas need physical touch, because this is fantastic.
“Okay, now talk,” Eli grunts as Leo starts driving.
“Being blackmailed sucks,” I slur, nuzzling my face into the crook of Beck’s neck. “Sorry for doing it to you guys.”
“You didn’t blackmail us, Starlight,” he murmurs.
“But I kinda did.”
“That’s not what’s important right now,” Eli grunts. “You went down to check on her when she didn’t come back. What did you see?”
“There was... an alpha cornering her in the hallway,” Leo says slowly. “Press.”
“A journalist, specifically,” I say, holding up a finger.
I’m not sure why I make the distinction.
It was obviously important to Cameron when he made it, but why am I here defending him?
I shouldn’t be nice to a guy just because he didn’t hurt me when he had the opportunity to.
But also, I’ve been nice to lots of people who have hurt me before, so maybe offering him some sort of grace isn’t a bad idea.
“What the fuck did he want and why did he corner Andi?” Eli growls, his voice low.
“He wanted an interview with Beck.”
“Me?” Beck’s hold on me tightens as he tucks me closer to his side. “Shit, Starlight, I’m so sorry. You got cornered ‘cause of me.”
“No, you don’t apologize,” I say with a shake of my head.
Whoa. Okay, turns out that ice water didn’t sober me up as much as I thought, because that movement is making the streetlights shining in through the windows spin.
“The guy... he saw Andi and I kiss in the stairwell. Threatened to tell you,” Leo says, looking at Beck through the rearview mirror. “He accused Andi of cheating on you.”
“I’m not a cheater!” I say, pointing my finger up to the ceiling again.
“We know you aren’t, Starlight,” Beck soothes.
“What happened next?” Eli grunts. “Who the hell does he work for?”
“Northline.”
“Wait, the investigative journalism network?” Beck asks. “Why would they want an interview with me?”
“He said he was working on a piece on male omegas,” I say, leaning my head back down on his shoulder. “You know that network?”
“Yeah, I put on their documentaries sometimes.”
“He made me feel stupid for not knowing what it was,” I mumble.
“That man isn’t landing an interview,” Eli grunts.
“Yeah, after cornering Andi?” Beck agrees. “Last thing I’m going to do is reward that sort of behavior.”
“Wait, but what if it’s helpful! Wouldn’t it be good to be interviewed by a network like that? The whole reason we’re even doing this whole fake-dating thing is to help with your image. This would be great!” My babbled words are all said with my eyes closed.
Based on the silence that occurs in the car after my statement, the three of them are doing that talking with their eyes thing they seem to do often.
“Maybe we think on it,” Leo says. “He gave me his card.”
“Hand it over,” Eli orders. “We need to let Everett know, too.”
“Sorry you have to get the boss involved,” I slur.
“It’s okay, Starlight. Just relax until we get back to the apartment,” Beck says. “Damn, I just looked him up. He’s done legit projects. His last one was a big documentary on the child-omega marriages happening in other countries. He’s not your run-of-the-mill paparazzi.”
“He sure is resorting to common pap strategies, trying to blackmail a lone omega in a club bathroom,” Eli bites out.
I tune out the rest of their conversation, my eyelids feeling too heavy for me to keep them open.
Only when the car slows to a stop and Leo turns it off do I open them again.
Wait a second, this isn’t my apartment.
The door beside me opens.
“I got her,” Eli grunts.
Before I know it, he’s sweeping me up into his bulky arms like I weigh absolutely nothing.
I don’t know whether it’s the stress from the night or the fact that the majority of the physical contact I’ve participated in tonight has been with an omega or a beta, but being in the arms of an alpha seems to make my brain absolutely melt.
Which is strange.
Because you’d think being in the arms of an alpha this massive would freak me the hell out.
Ezra was about average-sized for an alpha, and I know—intimately—how much damage an alpha his size can do. Eli is absolutely massive.
He could kill me without even trying.
But I don’t think he would. I feel... safe. Which is saying something, especially considering the way I first felt around him.
“Thank you,” I murmur, nuzzling my face into his massive bicep. “Where’re you taking me?”
“Home,” he grunts.
There’s the sound of an elevator door opening, and the four of us ride it up.
A faint memory tugs at the back of my mind.
A memory of being carried in from the car as a kid.
By... my dad?
It certainly wasn’t my mom. She won’t touch a weight because of the fear of becoming “bulky,” and I’m sure that would’ve included carrying me past the age where I started to walk on my own.
It’s strange; this doesn’t seem like a bad memory.
The elevator doors open with a ding, opening straight into their penthouse.
Because that’s seriously what it is.
“Never describe this place as an apartment again,” I slur, pointing an accusing finger at Beck.
He massages the back of his neck.
“Yeah, it’s... really nice. But I feel like a pretentious asshole saying, ‘Oh, come to the penthouse.’ It sounds like I deserve to get punched in the face.”
It has panoramic views of downtown LA with floor to ceiling windows. The living room, dining room, and kitchen all flow together with a chic and modern open concept. It’s a fantastic place.
Eli wordlessly sets me down on the couch, not acknowledging the fact he carried me up or the way his blood orange scent lingers on my skin and clothes.
I like it.
No, I more than like it.
I want to wrap myself in his scent and stay that way forever, surrounded by a heady cloud of blood orange.