But Terrance won't listen to words. He needs proof. He needs to believe I've moved on, that I've found someone who wants me exactly as I am.
Panic does funny things to the brain.
Panic makes you look at a sweet, gentle deputy standing just a few feet away and thinkyes, him.
I don't let myself overthink it.
"Actually," I hear myself say to Terrance, "there is someone."
His eyebrows shoot up. "What?"
"Someone who respects my dreams. Who wants me to succeed." I'm already moving, closing the small distancebetween me and Seth before I can change my mind. "Someone who gets me in a way you never did."
"Bea, wait?—"
But I'm not waiting. I'm turning, my heart pounding so loud I can hear it in my ears. Seth's eyes widen as I approach, confusion and concern mixing in those warm brown depths.
"Is everything okay?" he starts to ask. "Do you need?—"
My hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down to my height. He makes this startled sound—half gasp, half shock—his entire body going rigid as I kiss him.
Not a peck. Not a quick brush of lips. I kiss him desperately, because I need Terrance to believe this, to finally let me go.
For several heartbeats, he doesn't move at all. His hands hover uncertainly near my sides, not quite touching, like he's afraid he'll break something if he moves.
I'm about to pull away, horrified, when I feel it—the smallest shift. His lips, tentative and questioning, begin to move against mine.
And that's when everything changes.
The panic that drove me here dissolves, replaced by something warm and unexpected that spreads through my chest like honey. His hands finally settle on my waist. Gentle, barely any pressure and when I press closer without thinking, he makes this soft, surprised sound that's almost vulnerable.
I part my lips slightly, and he follows. Careful. Unpracticed. Sweet in a way that makes my chest ache.
His scent wraps around me—clean rain and cedar and warm bread—and my omega biology responds immediately, humming with contentment despite every logical thought screaming that this was supposed to be fake.
He tastes like coffee and something sweet. One of his hands slides from my waist to my lower back, still so careful, like I'm something precious he's afraid to break.
When my tongue brushes his, he startles—then something shifts in him.
For just a heartbeat, his grip tightens. He kisses me back with genuine hunger that steals my breath, his mouth suddenly sure and demanding. The hand on my lower back presses me closer and I feel the full strength he's been holding back.
Heat pools low in my belly. My heart races. And between my thighs, that unmistakable slickness.
Then the shyness returns. His hold gentles again, becomes uncertain, like he's shocked by his own response. But that moment of raw want lingers between us, making my knees weak.
When I press even closer, chest against his, I feel his heart hammering. His scent thickens with arousal he can't hide.
I forget about Terrance. Forget about the crowd. Forget this was supposed to be a performance.
All I know is Seth, and the way kissing him feels like coming home to somewhere I didn't know I'd been missing.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Seth's pupils are blown wide, nearly swallowing the brown of his irises. His cheeks are flushed deep red. His lips slightly swollen. He looks completely dazed.
"I..." He starts, voice rough and unsteady. Clears his throat. Tries again, and his voice actually cracks. "Hi?"
His hands are still on my waist—gentle, careful, shaking slightly.
Reality crashes back into me like ice water.
