The idea of being around so many people is unpleasant, but I'm pushing through, hoping that it won't be that bad at night.
I set the route, and when Snow comes back from the bathroom dressed in jeans and a dark purple hoodie, looking hot because why not, I hand him the phone.
His eyes flick up to the search bar still showing the words:nesting supplies 24h.
Then he looks at me. Our eyes meet.
Absentmindedly, he lifts his hand and ties his pale hair into a loose ponytail, leaving a small bun formed by the band not pulled all the way through. A few strands slip free.
We’re standing so close, and I’m drowning in his scent, his eyes fixed on my face, my pulse spiking again.
Gosh, just breed me now, alpha, just fucking breed me hard…
Yeah, I don’t say it, of course.
Instead, I just feel ridiculous, staring, scenting, my cheeks burning, while Snow gives me a soft, almost gentle smile, as if nothing is happening and my slick isn’t saturating the air.
He just nods.
"Let’s go, then."
That’s all. No questions, no pushing for answers. He just heads out of the basement, and I hurry after him, cursing silently.
Snow moves with a quick, purposeful stride, and I have to jog a little to keep up.
But it helps clear my sex-fogged mind.
He leads me into the garage, where he pulls out a black luxury Jaguar.
Wow, how can he afford such a sleek model on a private music teacher's salary? Interesting.
Snow gets out, walks around it, and opens my door like a perfect gentleman.
Some omegas might be annoyed by that, but I guess I like little things like this.
A bit embarrassed, I slide into the passenger seat.
It’s strange. I feel nervous, but at the same time this wild excitement keeps running through me. What’s that about? Ipromised myself I wouldn’t get worked up over any alpha until I knew what had really happened to me in detail, and now here I am, sneaking glances at this guy like he’s some kind of snack.
We pull out of the driveway. The streets are empty, no traffic at all, as it’s close to midnight.
Of course, I stay silent. Snow doesn’t say anything either, though from time to time I catch his quick glances meeting mine, like we’re trading looks. It’s almost funny.
I wish I could just have a normal conversation with him, like young alphas and omegas do. Maybe even one with a bit of playful flirtation in it, just for fun, nothing serious. But I’m still blocked, fighting with myself, and my throat won’t loosen enough to let a sound through. My temples throb painfully whenever I try to push words out.
Frustration builds until it’s almost unbearable. I bite down hard on my lip, staring at the passing streetlights.
Then Snow seems to pick up on my struggle. He takes his phone out of his pocket, hands it to me, and says,
"If there’s something you want to ask me, Summer, you can."
Now that he’s put it out in the open, another wave of nerves crashes over me.
What could I ask? Something neutral, something safe that doesn’t open a dangerous subject…
And then my fingers, almost without my consent, type:
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
