“Oh, thank god,” I say out loud, relieved, but then my cheeks flush as the alpha laughs. “My friend’s mate is in the band. Uriah. Well, I guess you can say he’s my friend, too, but still.”
“Oh, shit, okay. I don’t think we’ve met before. My name’s Nova.”
He reaches his hand out to me and I return it. “Opal.”
“Like the gemstone? I like it,” he replies just before he looks at his watch. “Well, Opal. We have a few minutes until the show starts. Would you like to have a drink with me?”
His flirty smile never subsides, and I find myself charmed by it. “I’d like that. Lead the way, Nova.”
The alcohol sitsin my stomach like lead. My symptoms are playing a special game of hide-and-seek, and it’s causing severe stress that isn’t helping my current state at all.
Heat flashes and minor cramps continue to visit me through the night, but I try not to let it stop me from having a good time with my friends. This is Uriah’s last time performingwith his band, so all I want to do is be there for him and have the time of my life.
The heavy beat of the instruments helps distract me a tiny bit. Stacia, Rory, Kit, and I all dance at the front of the stage, moving to the music and listening to the beautiful vocals from their lead singer, Bellamy. My mind almost couldn’t comprehend that the angelic voice that came during the first song was actually him. I thought through all the scenarios: he must be lip-syncing, or the microphone has some weird, natural-sounding auto-tune plugged in. But then he had an a cappella moment during the second song, and it threw all my theories into the water. He’s genuinely that good of a vocalist.
Stacia watches her alpha on stage, happiness swirling in her giddy expression. Kit stays close to me. A part of his skin always seems to be touching mine, and my omega loves it as much as I do. And I can finally admit that. After our time together a few weeks ago, I’ve thought about him more often in the secluded sector of my bedroom. The beast inside my chest has been pushing for another round, making me feel feral and itchy with nothing but my vibrator, but I’ve been refusing the call. Quite detrimentally, I’d say, if the cramp in my stomach is anything to go by.
I flush underneath the dimmed lights, keeping my eyes away from Kit because one look will have me begging for more. In my desire to avoid my ever-growing feelings, I catch eyes with the guitarist and he winks at me, his fingers working the white fender latched around his shoulder.
My impromptu drink with Nova Cooper was anything but boring. He’s hilarious, attractive, and borderline enchanting with the way he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room. I can sincerely say I enjoyed my time with him and fancied his spiced scent even though it’s not the same appletied to my soul. And, maybe I’m wrong, but I think he might have enjoyed my company just as much.
An idea starts to form in my head.
Ciro reaches around Stacia, hugging her from behind and kissing her cheek. “I’m getting another drink, do you want anything?” Stacia shakes her head and Ciro leaves. I wait a few moments before telling Kit I’m going to the bar.
“I’ll go with you,” he says.
“No,” I respond, perhaps a bit too quickly, by the way Kit’s narrowed gaze falls upon me. “You’re enjoying the music. Let me get this round.”
He observes me. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
When I get to the bar, I’m thankful to see Ciro still waiting for his drink. I scoot in beside him, mindful not to touch him since he is Stacia’s mate, and wave down the bartender.
“Can I get a watermelon spritz and a Blue Moon, please?” I ask, including Thatcher’s order from earlier.
“You can’t look as young as you do and not expect to get carded, darling,” he says with a touch of arrogance.
“Oh, fuck you,” I say, not in the mood to deal with an arrogant bartender as I throw down my ID on the table.
Ciro immediately cracks up, his face morphing into one of amused disbelief. “Damn, Opal.”
When the bartender sees the date, he narrows his eyes in suspicion. “What’s your address?”
My mouth drops. “Are you serious?”
Ciro cuts in. “Sir, you just took my order a second ago with an expired ID. Do you really want to deny the lady her drink?”
The alpha behind the counter observes my friend, who refuses to back down. He then gives me my license back and turns to me. “Watermelon spritz and Blue Moon?”
I tut at him. “Make that two watermelon spritzes so I don’t have to come back and deal with you again.”
The bartender finally walks away, and I let out a huge sigh of relief from the absence of his annoyed scent.
“Gosh, he’s a dick,” Ciro says. “He could have just asked you for your ID like a normal person.”
“Exactly.” My stomach contracts then, and I try to keep a grimace off my face. I turn to my friend, acting nonchalant. “Hey, that guy in Uriah’s band… the guitar player.”
