13. Andi #3
“Dude, I’m a mess.” I gesture down at myself. At the dress. At the effects of Gina’s solitary confinement. At the way I’m sure I look at least half as miserable as I feel.
Ezra just shakes his head.
“Yeah, but you’re still the same Andi. You’ve got a bleeding heart, you know? Too nice for your own good.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, slowing as we reach the hallways closer to the main event. “I would know. You probably should’ve left me way before I hurt you the way I did.”
His words crash into the already shaky foundation of my mental state. My chamomile scent shifts, turning bitter in the air between us.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Won’t bring it up anymore. Just... if that’s how you acted with the guy you were the least sure about... I’m glad you’ve got them in your corner. That’s all.” He extends his arm to me. “You ready to go play pretend a little longer?”
I take a deep, steadying breath before I offer him a jerky nod.
“Yeah,” I rasp.
Ezra handles the intimidating bodyguard by making some dickish comment about returning me in one piece before we make our way back to the table.
Stuart’s gaze darts between the two of us, sharp and assessing.
It’s not difficult to act like I just did something scandalous. Technically, I did get naked in a bathroom stall. I just got naked with two other omegas so they could tape a burner phone to my stomach instead of getting naked and taking an alpha’s knot.
“That took quite a while,” Stuart comments, a hint of suspicion in his voice.
Something about seeing Cameron again and meeting the twins bolsters the confidence he and Gina have whittled away over the past month.
“You really that interested in my sex life, Stuart?” I huff with a roll of my eyes, channeling the energy Eli puts into his eye rolls.
Maybe I’ll have a chance to talk to him and the rest of the pack when I get back tonight? The phone pressed against my skin, as uncomfortable as it is with the corset, feels like a beacon of hope.
“How crass,” Stuart says, his lips peeling back in an expression that’s halfway between a sneer and a grimace.
“You’re the one with your commentary about how long we took. Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
“I was bringing it up because it’s time for us to leave.” Stuart’s frustration has a thrill shooting through me.
Man, do I love to see him pissed.
It’s crazy how quickly a good cuddle session can bring back your personality. Omega biology is so fascinating.
“Then just say we’ve gotta go,” Ezra huffs.
The car ride back to Gina’s house is silent. Stuart is busy typing away on his phone, doing whatever the hell he does for his job, Ezra is busy tapping against his thighs as he breathes, and I’m occupied with trying to breathe normally.
Well, as normally as I can with a phone taped to my stomach under this god-awful dress.
Don’t be suspicious. Don’t be suspicious. Don’t be suspicious.
As the driver pulls up to the house, I’m pretty sure I notice a few cars that don’t belong to any of Gina’s neighbors parked along the street.
Not to be egotistical, but if I were a betting woman, I’d bet cold, hard cash they probably belong to paparazzi waiting to get a sneaky shot of me, or else Gina wouldn’t be so careful with making sure the drivers pull into the garage.
“Is that stylist girl still here?” Ezra grunts as the garage doors close behind the car.
“Camille? No, she’s left for the day. Why?” Stuart asks, his eyes narrowing on the two of us.
“That dress was a bitch to get on and an even bigger bitch to get off.” Ezra flashes a wolfish grin that’s all teeth and threatening menace. I’d be a bit scared if that look was aimed at me and I didn’t know it was an act. “She’ll need help getting it off.”
Ezra is right. I do need help to get it off. I also can’t ask Gina or Stuart for help because they’ll definitely see the phone taped to my torso, and then this whole plan would be fucked.
Stuart lets out a tired sigh, as if Ezra mentioning that I’m laced into a torture device is a giant inconvenience to him.
“I can—”
“Fuck no,” Ezra snarls, cutting Stuart off. “I wasn’t bringing that shit up so you could do it. I was bringing it up to let you know I’m going upstairs with her.”
Stuart shakes his head, like he’s too exhausted to argue with Ezra. I don’t know why Stuart would be exhausted; all he’s done tonight is sit on his ass and type away at his phone.
“Fine, let’s go,” he sighs before cutting his glare towards me. “Your mother... do not make any stupid mistakes around her tonight.”
With that cryptic message, he opens his door, leaving Ezra and me to share a brief, nervous glance at each other.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Ezra hisses when Stuart is out of earshot.
“You’re asking me as if I’d know?” I whisper back.
“Dude, she’s your mom.”
“So? You think that means I can predict her brand of crazy?”
The banter—reminiscent of our conversations about Gina from back in high school—doesn’t help with the sense of foreboding eating away at my gut that I can’t shake as I step out of the SUV.