Chapter 13
ESPER
I didn’t have dirty laundry today. I should have brought some clean clothes so I could at least appear like I belong at WPC Landromat.
But no.
Instead, I’ve just planted my ass on this black bench in front of WPC Landromat day after day and tapped my heel nervously for over an hour. Waiting on the wisp of a chance he’d come back.
I don’t even have his name. Just a scent and what he looks like. That was enough to have me practically stalking the man.
I came here with a backpack full of not laundry but a gift. A gift. Ugh. My face heats with embarrassment. My omega pushed me to get the potential… person… a gift.
For a man I hardly met.
Gosh, this is so stupid.
I just… I need to see him one more time. Smell him again. I need some clarity, and my omega wouldn’t settle without it.
So I’ll wait right here. Hoping the tattooed biker comes to the local laundromat. Now that I think about it, last time he was here I don't remember seeing any laundry on him. His bike couldn’t carry a load of laundry.
Maybe he was here to meet someone? Another girl!?
My gut turns at the thought so I push it away. Shaking my head, I focus on what I do know about the man. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Gosh, this is a phenomenally bad idea.
Neven would probably be upset at my desperateness, but I swear this isn’t the same as Mike. His jaw was so swollen when I saw him on campus this morning, though I probably didn’t feel as guilty about it as I should have.
They didn’t have to wire his jaw, it seems. His mouth opened in shock when he saw me across campus but he quickly winced and ran in the opposite direction.
It’s been about a week since that horrid date.
I haven’t had any more heat flare-ups since that weekend so I’m hoping my heat isn’t as close as I thought it was.
I need a plan in case I don’t find… whoever the hell my omega is looking for. Can Neven and Reed handle me? Am I asking for too much?
My heat hasn’t even gotten here yet and it’s already causing such stress in my life! Such disruption! I bury my face in my hands. Maybe I should have just picked a Pack at the Omega Center and Co.
“Why are you stalking me?” A voice snaps me out of my spiraling, and I flinch, looking for the source.
What I find are deep brown eyes, almost covered by familiar brown wavy hair.
Not enough to hide them fully from me, though, thank god.
Cinnamon wafts under my nose, and I smile as the man glares at me.
I should be nervous. He’s covered in tattoos, a head taller than me, and scariest of all seems to be mad at me.
But all I want is to scoot closer to him.
I look up at this alluring stranger, laser-focused. “Hi.”
He scrunches his eyebrows. The stranger sits on the bench, incredibly close to me, our legs almost touching.
His body is turned toward me, his hand resting on the back of the bench and I blush at how close he is to me.
He wears a simple black t-shirt and jeans, his leather jacket draped over his lap.
“Answer my question.”
“I’m Esper. What’s your name?”
“Why are you always here on this bench?”
I’ve only been here twice before, but he’d only know that if… he saw me too.
“You saw me?” My heart aches as I realize he never approached me.
“Of course I saw you. You’ve been sitting on this bench using your bag as an armrest, wearing this bright maroon hoody that stands out like a damn beacon nearly every day this week.”
So he didn’t just see me. He noticed me. It lights a flicker of hope in my chest. “I didn’t catch your name…”
My omega likes this man very much. I’m so glad I waited. Put myself out there. Even one more whiff of this man is enough reward for my patience. My omega practically purrs in his presence and despite his previous rejections, I can’t … not try.
His eyes don’t leave mine. His hard look doesn’t break either, and the inkling that I really bother this man settles under my skin.
I look down at my hands in my lap for a split second, trying to muster my courage to…
I don’t know… flirt? God, when did I get so damn persistent? My mom would be so proud.
“Soren.”
My omega lights up at the revelation. He sighs like he’s just lost an integral part of himself.
“Soren,” I repeat. He doesn’t confirm or deny. Just stares. “I… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“So you decided to stalk me?”
“I mean, I didn’t actually stalk—”
“What will it take for you to leave me alone?”
His question rolls around in my brain like a ball with spikes. My omega wants to burst into tears at the rejection, but I wait.
“Do you have an omega?” The question tastes like vile on my tongue, but I can’t just lay down and give up without knowing for sure.
After a pause, when I’d guess he was debating how many more pieces of himself he was willing to lose, he shakes his head no.
Good answer.
I reach for my bag, unzipping and reaching inside with jittery nervous hands. “In a relationship? I don’t want to be that kind of omega—”
“What do you want, Trouble?”
I pull my attention from my bag. He’s still glaring at me, but also glancing around like he’s looking for something else. Someone else.
Not a good answer.
“I want…” The words clog my throat, and I catch sight of myself in the laundromat window. An oversized hoodie and leggings. Wow, I really dressed like quite the catch. I should have thought this through. “You know how men will sometimes bring flowers to a first date?”
“You brought me flowers?”
“No, you don’t seem like the flower type. I brought a gift though. A courting gift, if you will—”
“Betas can’t be courted.”
“Since when?” I shake my head and frown. “Stop interrupting me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He cracks a small smile, the first sign that he doesn’t wish I’d poof out of existence, and my nerves finally die just the tiniest bit as I reach my hand in my bag and grab my gift, handing it over and straightening my shoulders in anticipation.
The black bow I tied around it covers a lot of the gift.
I blush as he unwraps it and weighs it in his tattooed hands.
“A coaster?” He inspects it as if he’s never seen a coaster before. It’s not the typical gift. My family didn’t use coasters when I was growing up, but I love them. They add bits of life to a table.
“Yes. It reminded me of you.” The black and gray marble design seemed like it might fit his aesthetic and maybe, whenever he saw it out on his counter or at his table, he’d think of me for just a minute and smile. “Will you… would you want to see me again?”
The words rush out of me as my nerves spike again. My cranberry scent is getting sour in the air, I’m sure. His nostrils widen for a moment and his eyes dart to mine.
“Sorry,” I mutter, pulling my hood on in hopes of taming my scent. “I’m not on blockers anymore.” With my heat so close, blockers made me too itchy.
“No. It’s fine.” He coughs as his brows scrunch, maybe in thought. “I, uh, don’t think us seeing each other is a good idea.”
I open my mouth, but any possible argument dies on my tongue. I can’t be the omega to beg someone to go on a date with her. I swallow my disappointment, trying and failing to slap a smile on my face.
“I get it. I, uh…well, keep the gift,” I say, getting up from the bench and sliding my backpack on.
“Wait.” His voice is sharp as he grabs my arm and pulls me into him. My knees slam into the bench and I don’t even care that it hurts a little because being enveloped by his scent with his arms around me makes it worth it. I take a deep inhale, waiting for him to change his mind again.
“This is quite forward,” I mutter with a chuckle, and he slides me off his lap back into my spot next to him.
“I’m sorry. I just… It not being a good idea doesn’t mean I don’t want to go out with you.” He speaks as if he’s breathless, having hardly moved from the bench. I watch his eyes. Waiting for a but, another change in course. He remains completely focused on me.
“Do you like my gift?” I mutter.
He smiles for the second time and nods. “Though I’m not a coaster guy, to be honest.”
“Just use it as decoration.”
A little amused huff passes through his lips, and he looks down at it again. “What interest does an omega have in a beta?”
The question, the cautious tone…they twist my heart like a corkscrew. His rejection isn’t about me, it’s about him, being a beta. He’s afraid.
“At first, your scent. Then…. I don’t know. Your bike?” I laugh and he laughs with me. I finally relax, letting my leg touch his.
He shares his number, and I add it into my phone, texting him immediately and hearing the ding. I look over to his phone to see him save my number as “Trouble.”
Has anyone ever described me as “trouble” before?
My brow furrows, and I shake my head. Going to his contact in my phone to change him from Soren to …
When I glance over at him, he’s watching expectantly, waiting to see what I come up with.
Oh man, the pressure is on now.
After a moment of thought, I retype out the name and a warm happiness washes through me as he chuckles.
“‘Accomplice’?”
“If I'm in trouble, well, I'm bringing you along with me.”
“Alright, Trouble, what shall you and your accomplice do next?”
The time on my phone catches my eye, and I slump a little in my seat.
“I actually have class soon. I should get back.” Judging by how I barely scraped through on that last essay, color theory is not a class I can skip. Even for a super hot beta.
“How’d you get here?” he asks, looking around the parking lot.
“I walked.” I shrug as I stand and shoulder my bag again. This time, he lets me, but stands as well.
“You don’t have a car?”
“Yeah, it’s not that far.” It’s really not, a few blocks from campus at most.
“Well, let me walk you,” he says and I shake my head no.
“Your bike?” I nod toward the shiny gorgeous black motorcycle I somehow missed him riding in on.
"I’ll come back.”
“Soren, you don’t have to do that.”
“What kind of man would I be if I let you walk to class alone?” His words are flirty, suave even, but he looks anywhere but at me.
“You were just playing hard to get, huh? That’s okay. If you want to be chased—”
“I’ll do the chasing from here on out, Trouble,” he grumbles and grabs my bookbag. I let him slide it off my shoulders and sling it onto his. What a gentleman.
He tries to take me to his bike, but I insist on walking, especially when it's so nice out.
The sidewalks of Maine are actually so beautiful.
Ripped right off an early 2000s sitcom. Nature lines the sidewalks, trees providing enough shade so we don’t burn from the sun, but also letting its light through just enough to be enjoyable.
Everything about it that I’ve seen is beyond idyllic. I love it here.
Soren walks between me and the street, mumbling about how any man who makes me walk on the side closest to the street is a piece of shit, and I laugh.
“What about men who need courting?”
His face goes red before he can hide it. He doesn’t answer, but I think he likes the teasing.
Our walk back to campus is peaceful. My omega is content in his presence, and I even manage to forget about my upcoming heat and can just… breathe.
His cinnamon scent circles around me and I inhale deeply. It’s so strong. As if I dumped the entire bottle of ground cinnamon over my head.
“Do you smell me?” I ask, and his brows furrow as he leans back. Surprised by my question. “Do you?”
“Well, yeah. You put on a strong-ass perfume, of course…”
Awe. Wonder. Realization of why my omega wanted to meet this man so bad.
He’s a beta, and he’s my scent match.
In fact, if my gut is correct, I don’t think he’s the only one.