CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“I didn’t order this,” I raise my brow as I hold up the shimmery black top.
“I know, I did,” Ollie shrugs, grinning at me. He’s looking delicious in his sweatpants and muscle tank, tattoos on full display as he lounges in my nest with his hands behind his head. Reggie has made his home laying on Ollie's chest, and Ollie has affectionately dubbed him his "cat son". Surprisingly, Reggie likes every single member of my pack he's met so far.
I’m getting ready for my date with Simon, and all he told me was to wear something nice, but to make sure I have something covering my legs.
Which I thought was weird. Are we going to some strange super-conservative place where it’s considered trashy to have your ankles showing?
“Oh? Did anyone else add things to the cart after I handed Mattie back his phone?” I can’t even pretend that I’m annoyed, this top is gorgeous. The sleeves are see-through and shimmery, while the bodice is a solid black with a sweetheart neckline. It’ll look great with my black jeans and the silvery boots that someone else apparently ordered for me.
“Mattie may have passed it around once he saw you only got like, the bare minimum. ” Ollie rolls his eyes. “You’re so sensible.”
I let out a shocked laugh as I pull off my shirt. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Ollie’s eyes darken with hunger as he takes in my shirtless torso, only covered by a lace bra. “Not a bad thing, no…But you realize that Mattie is an actual billionaire, right? He can more than afford to buy you other items besides the essentials.”
I shrug as I pull on the shirt and check myself in the mirror. It fits perfectly. “Doesn’t matter if he can afford it, it’s not my money.”
“Tink, how do you not see that everything we are, everything we own, every thought out of our dull little brains already belongs to you?” Ollie grins wickedly. “That’s okay, once we bond, you’ll be able to tell just how much we’re all gone for you.” A shiver runs through me at the thought. I have actually thought about bonding, despite all my hesitations. Two days with Pack De Lucca and ten years of negative thoughts about bonding goes out the window.
What would it feel like to have Ollie’s infectious energy literally running through my veins? Or to be able to borrow Mattie’s calming presence when I needed to?
After I pull on my jeans and boots, I meet Simon downstairs in the foyer, Ollie trailing behind me. I'm kind of hoping I don't run into Titus after the awkwardness of earlier. I had thought after our movie day on Sunday that we had moved past whatever reservations he had, but I was clearly wrong if our interaction today was any indication.
I don't have to worry though, because it's just Simon in the foyer, looking seriously handsome in his dark gray button down and dark jeans. The top two buttons are undone, giving me a glimpse of his toned chest. His glasses sit perched on his nose, giving him a studious look while his wavy hair is pushed back, making him look just the slightest bit relaxed.
My own hair is curled to perfection, my makeup done flawlessly. “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Simon murmurs, taking my hand and kissing me on the cheek.
“Thank you,” I blush, “you look very handsome yourself.”
Ollie clears his throat behind us, and we both turn to look at him with a questioning look. His brows are furrowed as he stands with his feet shoulder width apart, his tattooed arms crossed. “Now, you’ll have the young lady back by midnight, you hear? Not a moment later.” He’s trying so hard to look serious that I have to suppress a laugh.
Simon rolls his eyes, “Oliver—”
“That’s Mister Jacobs to you, son! If you don’t have her back in time, she’ll be grounded!”
I giggle and stage-whisper to Simon, “I don’t think he’ll let us go until you play along.”
Simon huffs, but a grin pulls at the corner of his lips. “Yes, sir.”
Ollie nods, a satisfied look on his face. “Good. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” With a wink, he cackles as he climbs up the stairs, leaving Simon and I alone.
“Before we go, I have something for you,” Simon says nervously, pulling something out of his pocket. A square, dark blue velvet box sits in hand.
My brow furrows in confusion. “What—”
“It’s a courting gift,” he says, his pale complexion flushing slightly. “I want to do things right. Scent match or not, we should still try to be deserving of you.”
Biting my lip, I take the box from him and open it, gasping when I see what’s inside.
“A…a book themed charm bracelet?”
“I got it from this specialty shop downtown…”
I take a closer look at the charm bracelet to see a little tiny book, a small dragon, a miniature castle, a little sword, and… “An octopus?”
“I believe it’s a kraken,” he blushes and I burst out laughing.
“Oh my god, Simon. This is amazing. I can’t believe they already had all this on one bracelet.”
Simon scratches the back of his neck. “I actually…picked out the charms myself.”
My heart warms at the gesture, and I throw my arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It’s perfect Sy. Thank you.”
He clears his throat, blushing at the praise. I love seeing how much of a reaction I can get from him. “Now, we should get going so we aren’t late for our reservation.”
It’s not until we’re walking past the cars and going around to the garage that I think to ask, “Wait, where are we going?”
Simon shoots me an uncharacteristically smooth grin. “You’ll see.”
And I do see. I see right as he enters the code for the garage and the door slowly rolls open. “A motorcycle?” I ask, my jaw dropping. The sleek black bike is parked next to the wall of the garage, shining and gleaming the white stenciled letters spelling out “Ducati” on the side.
I can’t even with this.
I don’t even know motorcycles…but a Ducati? That’s some crazy money.
Like, my family level money. If we rode motorcycles.
He’s already pulling two leather jackets off hangers and helmets down from the wall next to it, and I raise my brows at him as he carefully fits it over my head. The visor is flipped open, so he can see my expression, but he focuses on putting his own helmet on instead. “Any particular reason you already have an omega-sized motorcycle helmet and leather jacket hanging out in your garage?”
I can see his eyes crinkle in an embarrassed smile. As he helps me slide on the jacket. It may be April on the California coast, but I know I’d be cold on the back of a bike without one.
“Nesting items weren’t the only thing I bought when I caught your scent for the first time. The leather jacket I bought today.”
Before I can ask him any of the million questions running through mind about why on earth does my sweet, sensitive, careful Alpha own a fucking motorcyle, he’s pulled on his own jacket and is climbing on and patting the seat behind him.
Holy shit.
A whole new list of fantasies just came into my mind. Maybe after we’ve known each other a while, he can fuck me with just the helmet on?
No. No . Bad Cady. No thoughts of fucking the sweet alpha before we even have our first date.
The scent of my slick fills the air despite my internal chastising, and I’m suddenly very glad that he already has his helmet on.
“They call this backpacking, right?” I ask as I swing my leg over the sleek black vehicle and wrap my arms around his waist.
Simon only chuckles and nods, revving the bike to life.
The machine vibrates beneath us, and I’m suddenly very aware that I’m on the back of a motorcycle. I’m not scared though. I’m with my alpha, and he won’t let anything happen to me. I’ve always had a bit of a wild streak, which was mostly contained to roller coasters at amusement parks. This, however, is a whole new level of adrenaline rush.
Before I know it, we’re zipping through the streets, my arms gripped tight around his waist. He maneuvers through traffic like he’s been doing it for years — a set path he was always going to take even though the flow of vehicles is ever changing.
It’s exhilarating.
Before I know it, he’s parking next to a restaurant, and helping me off the bike, removing my helmet and putting it in the helmet lock under the seat.
“How’s my hair?” I ask, running my fingers through it quickly.
He turns around, adjusting his glasses before grabbing my hands in his. “You look perfect.”
I can’t help but think the same about him. His cheeks are slightly red, and he has this wild look in his eye that I’ve never seen before.
By the time we’re sat at dinner, the gleam fades, and we’re eating the food we ordered. “So…” I trail off, cutting off a piece of steak. “What’s with the motorcycle?”
“What's…with it?” he asks, raising a brow as he twirls some pasta on his fork.
“Yeah. I mean…you’re you . Simon. Calm. Rational. Level-headed. If someone asked me yesterday if you’d ever step foot near a motorcycle, I would have laughed at them.”
“It’s my one freedom I allow myself.” He shrugs, smiling softly. “Growing up, my parents always pushed me to be the best. The best at school, the best at playing the cello, the best at sports, even though I had no desire to play them.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t grow up in a pack. My dad is an alpha, and my mom is an omega, and I think at some level they were determined to prove that just because they didn’t have a pack didn’t make them ‘less than’.”
My hand reaches out to grasp his across the table and he gives me a sad smile. “Nobody thought they were. It was all in their heads, but I was their proof that they weren’t failures.”
“Did you even want to be a doctor?” I ask, my heart clenching. “Or was that something else they forced on you?”
“I definitely wanted to be a doctor,” he smiles, “but in spite of them, not because of them. The bike…I’ve been so conditioned to be calm and in control my whole life, I don’t know how else to be. Except for when it comes to the bike. That’s when I can feel…everything.”