I check out my reflection for the zillionth time, fastening all the buttons. I don’t own anything dressy, so I borrowed a white shirt from Ren. How do people stand wearing this crap? I feel like I’m being choked.
I frown as I take a comb to my ginger curls in an attempt to make them a bit tidier. However, whenever I rake it through, my hair springs back even fuzzier, making me look more like Ronald McDonald. I sigh, pumping out some mousse and combing it through my locks to coax the curls back into their normal, chaotic position.
“Laz?” I smell Faye before I hear her voice behind me. “Everyone’s waiting downstairs. Cole sent me to come find you.”
I spin around, a giggle escaping her lips as she takes in my ensemble.
I groan. “I look ridiculous, don’t I?”
How does Ren make these clothes look good? He even makes sweater vests seem stylish!
“No, you don’t! You just don’t look like you.”
“I wanted to make a good impression.” Family is everything to me. Mine is my number one. Faye talks about her gram all the time, and I know they’re close. It’s the thing I love most about her, seeing how deeply she cares for those she loves, but it only amplifies the pressure compressing my lungs.
I’m worried I’ll say the wrong thing without meaning to. When I first met Faye, I accidentally made her cry. I’m not like the others. Cole is naturally charismatic, Damon has the whole dark and mysterious vibe going on, and old women swoon over Ren’s faultless manners. But me? I say silly things and like to mess around.
“She’ll love you, Laz,” Faye pushes up onto her tiptoes to press a soft kiss on my temple, “for who you are, just like I do.”
“You…” I blink twice to make sure I didn’t imagine it. “Y-you love me?”
Eyelashes fluttering, Faye’s gaze drops to the carpet beneath us. “Sorry, that kinda slipped out.”
Fuck, I’m an idiot for getting my hopes up and zoning in on a few words. People casually say they love things all the time. I love pizza. I love the arcade. I love drawing. That doesn’t mean that Fayelovesloves me.
Why did I have to make it awkward by reading into it? Clearly feeling uncomfortable, Faye can barely meet my gaze.
“You’re right.” I turn to look in the mirror. “It’s too soon for that, isn’t it? We haven’t even bonded yet.”
Despite my babbling, I wish I were better at hiding my disappointment. Mom always says that my face shows my everyemotion, that I’m like an open book. Which is both a blessing and a curse.
“Hey!” Faye takes my arm to spin me to face her. “All I meant was that I’m sorry it came out like that, but not that I don’t mean it.” Her eyes soften. She’s so freaking cute, it hurts. “I’ve never said that to anyone before.”
“Even Damon?”
“Not yet.” She sucks in her bottom lip. “You’re the first.”
“I’ve never said it to anyone before, either.” I lift up her chin so I can gaze into her eyes. How am I so damn lucky? “I know I fool around a lot and don’t take life seriously, but I need you to know that this—us—is something I’m deadly serious about. Sometimes, I say stupid things and make jokes because I don’t know what else to do. That’s why I thought the shirt would help. I want your gram to know how serious I am, and I want her to like me because, well… I love you too, honeybee.”
I wait with bated breath until the most dazzling smile takes over her face. She leans in to nuzzle against my neck, marking me in her scent. I giddily breathe her in, reveling in the smell of comfort and acceptance.
“You never have to pretend to be someone you’re not for me, Laz,” she whispers. “You’re perfect exactly as you are—jokes, unicorn tattoos, and all.”
“So maybe an outfit change?” I crack a smile. “How about a Zelda T-shirt?”
“Much better.”
My cock hardens with her body pressed against mine. It doesn’t take much when I’m around Faye. I’m basically constantly hard in her presence.
Faye eyeballs my pants. “Cole’s getting impatient, so your knot will have to wait.” She kisses me on the cheek. “See you downstairs, alpha.”
It’s now or never.
FORTY-ONE
Faye
Cole glowers at Laz in the rearview mirror. It’s a good thing he’s riding up front next to Frank. “If we’re late, Laz. I’m blaming you.”
