PROLOGUE
Playing: “Modern Love” by David Bowie
April Last Year
It’s really hard to keep my resting bitch face present as I scroll across the quad, but I persist. I’m not going to let some man get me down just because he has the rotten taste of a wet croissant.
My latest situationship turned down my invitation for a midday picnic because apparently ‘charcuterie boards are lame’ and ‘David Bowie is overrated.’ First off,Judas. And second, I can’t believe I ever let him touch my dick when he was harboring those opinions. I feel cheap.
Then again, I have been more desperate to connect recently. I don’t know when I lowered my standards, but the last few people I talked to werenotit. Was I really so touch-starved that I let any alpha near me without having a proper taste in music?
Being a male omega is fucking tough. Too many alphas outthere pretend to be straight and it’s exhausting. Being a secret is only sexy when it’s on both of our terms and that rarely happens. It’s made finding a trustworthy partner extremely hard.
There’s not a lot of female alphas to date, either. They’re just as rare as we are, and that has left me with dwindling options.
A heavy sigh escapes me. I want a partner in life. Someone to spend quality time with and confide in. Someone who wants to let me all the way in.
I shake the thoughts away and try to lose myself in David Bowie. I came here for a one-man picnic, and damn it, I’m going to kill it. “Modern Love” plays through my headphones as I find a cozy spot in the middle of the quad. The sun shines down, and I bask in the warmth as I lay down my blanket and sit. I scoot slightly to get comfortable and start removing the ingredients from my cooler.
I realize the wooden board I normally use is absent from my backpack, which means it’s sitting on top of the mini-fridge in my dorm room, apparently forgotten in my haste to leave this morning. I make do by unfolding a few napkins and placing them on one of my textbooks.
Despite this minor inconvenience, I’m still going to trust the vision.
I sing along to the lyrics as I put together the best charcuterie board known to… well, I was going to say mankind, but I’ll settle for this side of Massachusetts.
When I’m done, I close my eyes and take a deep inhale as the aroma of my masterpiece hits me full force. The smoked Gouda, blackberry jam, green apples…
Green apples?
I pause, looking over my makeshift picnic display, whichlooks a lot less magical than originally anticipated. I may have hyped it up just a smidgen.
Returning to the issue at hand… There aren’t any green apples in front of me. So why can I smell them so clearly? It’s almost like they’re getting closer, the sweet and sour smell so entangled that it blends into the perfect fruity scent.
I open up my travel cooler to see if I packed any by mistake, but my arm accidentally yanks the aux out of my phone. David Bowie blares out across the quad, and I wince, looking around for any onlookers just as the scent from before washes over me in a pinnacle.
“Modern love. (Modern Love)”
Sweat breaks out over my skin. The person who just passed me freezes in his tracks. I watch the back of his blond head as he processes the same thing I am, his hand flexing at his side.
He’s probably less confused than I was a second ago, it’s not like he has a watermelon just hanging out in his back pocket.
Histight, khaki pocket.
“… it walks beside me.”
He turns, and I’m met with the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen, as lush as the grass beneath us. My mouth gapes open in his direction, his gaze firmly on my frozen form. I can’t move a single muscle. I’m scared that if I do, this man will turn to dust and blow away with the wind, proving once and for all that I have lost my mind.
He takes a few steps towards me, coming right to the edge of the rug I’m perched on. I gulp and finally stand up.
The spring air whirls around us, but somehow it only makes me hotter. His scent caresses my skin and wraps around me like a weighted blanket. I can’t help the sigh that leaves me, the sound landing between us like a swan song.
Our eyes meet once more. He’s just as affected if the loss of his breath is anything to go by, and his eyes smolder as his gazetravels over me. His proximity makes my head spin, so I’m glad I’m not the only one losing my cool right now.
“Hi,” I finally say, but it comes out rough.When did my throat get so dry?
“Hi.” He smiles at me and rubs his neck. “I’m trying really hard to act cool right now.”
A snort leaves me. “Don’t. I’m a literal dork.”
