Bayleigh: You’re nice, Milton. Most people wouldn’t stick their neck out like you are. Or even message me to see if I’m okay. I really appreciate that.
I can’t help but smile at the screen. Scooting further up the bed, I lean back against the headboard and pull my knees up. A pillow comes with me, and I drag it into my lap, resting my hands on it as I respond. Before typing back, I swipe through a few more notifications, scrolling past the bullshit comments about Bayleigh and Lincoln.
Every time I see someone dragging her name or twisting what happened, I shut it down, replying with the truth and correcting the assholes who think they know anything. It feels good to defend them both, especially her, and it makes the smile on my face settle in even deeper as I finally start typing my message.
Me: You just don’t know me well enough yet. I’m anything but nice.
The second I hit send, my stomach tightens. It’s stupid, but I’m already overthinking it. People online paint me as this cold asshole, and part of me’s terrified she’ll believe the same thing. My thumb hovers over the screen like I might undo it, like I might explain the joke before she gets the wrong idea.
Then she sends a laughing emoji.
I let out a long breath. Relief hits harder than I expect. I wasn’t sure how she’d take that, if it’d push her away or make her think I’m warning her about myself.
Bayleigh: Hmm. I doubt that. If you weren’t nice, you wouldn’t have been at the charity event.
A humorless snort slips out. If only she knew how much PR shoved me into that.
Me: The PR team made me do it.
Bayleigh: That may be so, but I saw you with those kids. I may not be able to hear, but my eyes work. And when that punk teenager hit your wrist, you didn’t react. You blew it off. There’s good inside of you, Milton, whether you believe it or not.
Her message sits heavy in my chest. I drag a hand down my face, trying to hide the way her words get to me. She doesn’t know how many people think the exact opposite. Reporters. Fans. Even some of the guys on the team. But she saw something different. Something I barely believe is there.
Me: Meh. I was a kid once. I know what it’s like to want to show off. Especially when there’s beautiful omegas around.
My thumb hesitates over the screen. This feels like crossing a line, but she’s still talking to me. She’s choosing to. And maybe I want her to know I see her differently. That she’s not just “some omega” to me.
After a heartbeat, I send it.
Me: Like you.
Heat crawls up my neck immediately. I rake a hand through my hair, ready to backtrack if she freaks out. God, I want her to like me.
The bubbles pop up, then disappear. Fuck. That was too far. I don’t want to scare her away. Not before I get a chance to know her, like Lincoln. Then maybe I can approach him again about a pack. Joining me and Korbin. About Bayleigh being our omega.
The only issue if he agrees is Korbin. I need to find a way for him to get his head out of his ass and put this shit with Gina where it belongs. In the past. Once and for all.
Bayleigh: See, that was sweet.
Me: Okay, maybe I can be sweet sometimes.
Bayleigh: I’d have to know you better to be sure ;)
Me: That could be arranged.
Bayleigh: I need to go. But I’d love to talk to you again.
Me: Me too.
I can’t help but smile. She wants to chat with me again. It could be what we need to make us a pack. Her being our omega. Something inside me just knows she’s the one to bring us together as a unit.
All of a sudden, something hits me upside the face.When I look down, it’s a towel. My eyes immediately dart to my door where Korbin’s standing.
“You done flirting?”
I just grin at him. “Maybe.”
“I’ve been standing here for five minutes and your ass didn’t even notice.”
