Chapter 9 #2
Stephen nearly choked. "Carrington? As in Eliza Carrington? The Instagram influencer who's always posting those 'day in the life of a girlboss' videos? Whose family owns Carrington Home Goods and makes every bathroom cleaner, washing powder, and air freshener in Britain? That Carrington?"
"Yes. Her family owns the company. She manages their digital marketing division." Ryland ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. "The date was last night. It did not go well."
"What happened?" Stephen settled onto the floor across from Ryland, legal work forgotten. Something tightened in his stomach, a peculiar little knot he refused to examine too closely. Professional interest. Calibration purposes. Obviously.
"We had dinner at Mei's Garden. It's a dim sum restaurant in Knightsbridge with a particularly skilled chef who trained in Hong Kong.
The food was excellent. The conversation was...
less so." Ryland's brow furrowed. "She asked many questions about my research, but her eyes glazed over approximately seventy-three seconds into each explanation. "
"A classic response." Stephen nodded. "But what happened with the shared food?"
"The issue arose with the final siumai," Ryland said, his expression darkening. "It was sitting alone in the steamer basket. I waited an appropriate interval of 47 seconds before reaching for it, at which point Eliza said, and I quote: 'You can have it if you really want it.'"
Stephen winced. "Oh no."
"Her tone suggested some form of subtext that I failed to decode correctly," Ryland continued.
"I explained that I did want it, as I have a larger body mass, higher caloric requirements due to the cognitive demands of my work, and had particularly enjoyed that specific dish.
I also noted that her role merely managing marketing for her family company likely required less energy than my development of revolutionary energy storage technology. "
Stephen pressed his palm against his mouth. "And how did she take that assessment?"
"She excused herself to the ladies' room and did not return for seventeen minutes.
When she did, she suggested we skip dessert as she had an 'early meeting' the next day.
My brother called me at 11:47 PM to inform me that I am, and I quote, 'an irredeemable wanker with the social grace of a constipated rhinoceros. '"
A strangled laugh escaped Stephen before he could stop it. "I'm sorry, it's just... the dumpling thing is a classic dating trap."
"A trap?" Ryland looked genuinely bewildered. "Please elaborate."
"When someone says 'you can have it if you really want it' in that particular tone, what they're actually saying is 'I want it, and if you take it, I will hold it against you forever.'" Stephen watched Ryland process this, his brow creasing and uncreasing in rapid succession. "Welcome to subtext."
"That's absurdly inefficient communication," Ryland said. "If she wanted the siumai, why not simply state that desire?"
"Because dating isn't about efficient communication. It's about testing how well you can read between the lines."
"So it was a test?" Ryland's eyes widened.
"But that's fundamentally flawed experimental design!
A test with unstated parameters and subjective evaluation criteria is scientifically worthless.
How was I supposed to accurately determine the correct response without being informed of the evaluation metrics? "
Stephen bit his lip. "That's dating for you. It's an endless series of pop quizzes where nobody tells you the subject, and the marking criteria changes halfway through."
"That's..." Ryland seemed at a loss. "Irrational. Counterproductive. Evolutionarily disadvantageous."
"And yet somehow the species continues to reproduce within this framework," Stephen said.
Ryland sat with that for a moment, turning it over in his head. His hands had gone still in his lap.
He looked so genuinely disturbed by this revelation that Stephen felt a surge of protectiveness.
The alpha wasn't just socially awkward; he was navigating a world of unspoken rules that everyone else seemed to understand instinctively.
Rules that, when examined objectively, were actually rather stupid.
"Look," Stephen said, surprising himself with his own vehemence, "she was playing stupid games. Did you want the siumai?"
"Yes," Ryland replied without hesitation.
"Then it's good that you took what you wanted." Stephen held his gaze. "Life's too short to pretend you don't want things just to pass some arbitrary test of politeness."
Something shifted in Ryland's expression. Not much. A loosening around the jaw, the faintest crease at the corners of his eyes.
"That's... unexpectedly validating."
"Well, don't get used to it," Stephen replied. "I'm usually much less supportive and considerably more sarcastic."
"I've observed that your sarcasm frequency increases by approximately 27% when you're uncomfortable with genuine emotion," Ryland said. "It's a rather ineffective deflection strategy, as it's entirely predictable."
Stephen's mouth opened, then closed. Heat crept up his neck. "Has anyone ever told you that you're really annoying when you're right?"
"Frequently," Ryland replied, and there was no mistaking the smile. Small, certain, directed entirely at Stephen. "It's one of my most consistent feedback data points." He held Stephen's gaze. "And I'm right most of the time."
The server room felt warmer. Stephen loosened his tie, fingers fumbling with the knot. The hum of the servers had synced with his pulse somehow, or maybe that was just the blood in his ears.
Ryland returned to his laptop, fingers dancing across the keyboard. The blue glow caught the angle of his jaw, the sharp line of his cheekbones. His hands moved with precise rhythm, long fingers tapping out equations like a concert pianist working through a difficult passage.
Stephen forced his gaze back to his own screen. The regulatory compliance document might as well have been written in Sanskrit. He read the same sentence four times.
When had this happened? Not just the server room becoming somewhere he looked forward to being, but this specific awareness of the alpha. The angle of Ryland's jaw in blue light. The way his own pulse responded to a direct gaze from him.
"Shit," Stephen whispered.
Ryland looked up, one eyebrow raised.
"It's nothing. Just... realised I missed a filing deadline."
He hadn't missed any deadline.
What he'd missed was this...whatever this was, creeping up on him when he wasn't looking. A complication he absolutely did not need, especially not with the most brilliant, frustrating, socially oblivious alpha in the entirety of Dabney.
Ryland nodded, accepting the lie, and returned to his work.
Stephen exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the way his skin still tingled where Ryland's gaze had touched it.