Gosh, he can say that again. The only interactions I’ve had with him have been quiet and a little bit off-putting. That night in the kitchen will forever be burned into my mind. I don’t think he necessarily hates me or anything, but he’s a lot different from what I expected. Rory and Stacia, and even Jett, described him as the grumpiest person they’ve ever known, and while that’s true, I also found him to be quite shy and subdued. Something about that demeanor intrigues me.
Just as I’m thinking about it, Kit says, “I know it’s been a busy week, but have you guys gotten acquainted yet?”
I think about how to answer but ultimately just grimace and return his question with a question. “How do you handle having two serious alphas when you’re so…”
“Annoying?” he jokes with a teasing smile.
I find myself giving a sincere laugh. “I was going to say playful.”
Kit smiles in a way that makes his eyes squint, and I thinkit’s the cutest face I’ve ever seen, but then his smile falls the tiniest bit before he says, “They’re not both my alphas. Just Sam is.”
My eyebrow raises. “Oh… I just assumed you guys were a pack.”
“Well, we are. My pack bond clicked in with Thatcher, but we’re not scent matches. It’s a whole thing but sometimes that’s just the way it goes, I guess.” He tries to say it casually, but I can tell that the revelation still bothers him.
“And you don’t… feel romantically connected to Thatcher?” I say without thinking, choking on my words. “Wait, that’s too private. Forget I asked that.”
He smiles again, though it’s weak. “I do, actually. That’s kind of the issue. I’ve liked him since the moment I met him. But it’s just not happening on his side. Or, at least, I don’t think it is. He’s kind of hard to communicate with.”
I’d say that’s an understatement. The memory of the same guy walking around me in the kitchen, completely silent and avoiding eye contact, comes to mind.
“Can I ask another personal follow-up question?” I finally say, my eyes glued to the side of his face as he continues to focus on the road.
“You can ask me anything, Pebble,” he says, and the random nickname throws me off guard. The smile it evokes is even more surprising.
“Is that why you haven’t bonded with Sam?” I ask.
The mood in the car turns serious once more as he considers that, thinking over whether or not to open up to me about it. I feel bad for prying because he obviously isn’t ready to talk about it, but as I open my mouth to take it back, he responds.
“I want to bond with him more than anything, but I’m afraid,” he admits.
“Afraid?”
“Of going through a heat,” he states. “If it were with both of them, I think I could handle it. But the idea of going through a heat with only one alpha is… daunting. I don’t know if he’ll be able to handle me or if I’ll be a nuisance when he needs to eat, or sleep, or take a shower. It just feels safe to prolong it for now until we can all get our shit together.”
He taps on the wheel, trying to focus on anything else but the silence between us as his words sink in. This wonderful man is worried about his heat, worried about being too much, worried about going through it practically alone.
And it hits me then, how he might… understand me.
“Thatcher won’t help with the heat if it happens?”
“Well, he said he would. Despite our little hiccup, he said he’d be there for me in that way, but I don’t want to pressure him into that kind of commitment. It just doesn’t feel right.”
The more he speaks, the more gobsmacked I am by the similarities. They are two very different situations, but somehow elicit the same emotions. I don’t have the luxury of prolonging a heat by not bonding. If I want to pursue something with anyone, they have to be aware of my condition and what it entails, and that feels like pressure I don’t want to put on anyone. Much less my scent matches who seem to have their own issues going on.
Still, my omega nudges me, pushing me towards opening my mouth. Maybe I could say something to Kit. He is being so open and honest with me, and he’s never done anything but open his arms to me, so maybe he will understand. Not about the scent match situation that he’s in the dark about—yikes—but maybe he will understand my condition in a way that doesn’t feel heavy.
Maybe he is someone I could confide in.
It takes everything, every morsel of energy in mybody to muster up every atom of courage, but when I finally start to physically open my mouth, the car stops and Kit puts it into park.
“Enough with my pack drama,” he says, turning to look at me for the first time this entire drive. His face lights up when our eyes meet, like he is pushing away all the uncertainty he just spoke about in order to have a good time. “I brought you here to have a good time and to drool over Chris Pine, so let’s do that. And don’t worry about a thing, all the popcorn and candy are on me. No matter how weird you think your candy choices are, I’m all-in with it.”
I exhale slightly, relieved that I’ve been saved by the bell. Then his statement about beingall-insinks to my core, and I suddenly wish to hear those words in a very different context.
The movie wasfantastic.And not just because of Chris Pine.
Sitting next to Kit, basking in the glow of his sunshine even in the dark theater, was beautifully brutal. I can still feel the heat from his body radiating on my left side, my fingers stretching to alleviate the desire in me to take his hand that lay on the armrest between us. It was taunting me, almost like he wanted me to take it, but I stood strong even though it felt like weakness. And when he let his eyes roam to my lips at random times, I told my imagination to quit playing tricks on me because I could only deal with one temptation at a time.
