I’m not sure which name belongs to whom since he just said them all rapidly and didn’t point to anyone in particular.
We sit at the table, the blond one and the one with the beard flanking me, while the quiet one with longer, light brown hair sits across from me. He also looks like he doesn’t want to be here, and I wish I knew why.
It’s the same awkward small talk from the first date, but this time the server brings all of them beers and me a virgin daiquiri. I hate it; the date, not the drink. The sweet taste of strawberry cooling my throat is the only thing I like about this date.
“So, Kurt tells us that you like to make soap?” the bearded one says.
“Yes, I have an online store where I sell them. I like having something to do,” I tell him.
“We have a spare room in the house that would be perfect for any projects you’d like to do,” he states as if it's a done deal. It’s extremely presumptive, but semi-sweet, so I let it slide.
“Where do y’all live?” I ask them.
“We live right on Lake Jackson,” the quiet one sitting across from me answers. I whistle in my head, knowing how expensive properties on the lakes can be. But also how ridiculous it is to buy property on a lake in Florida when it might just get gobbled up by a sinkhole.
“That must be nice,” I comment, keeping my tone polite.
“It is, but we’ve been looking for that missing piece,” bearded Alpha says.
“And for you, that would be an Omega?” I ask, and bearded guy nods his head, narrowing his eyes at me.
I’m not sure why he looks at me so attentively when I speak, but it makes me a little uncomfortable. He’s checked me out more times than someone should when first meeting. The only thing worse than his uncouth behavior are the words that spill out of the blond one’s mouth.
“Right, we’re ready for kids and settling down,” he says.
“Well, I turn twenty-one next week. I’m not ready for kids yet.” To be honest, I’m not even sure if I’m mentally ready to bond yet. At least not with any of the assholes I keep going on dates with. I think about if Axel were an Alpha, would I let him bite me?I think I would…
“Things change when you’re bonded,” the blond one counters.
I just ignore his comment and thank the server when he brings our chips and salsa.
The bearded one snaps his fingers. “I thought your voice sounded familiar,” he exclaims, his eyes going wide.
“Sorry?” I ask.
“Can’t you hear it, Paul?” the bearded one asks, so I at least know the dickhead blond one’s name is Paul.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Dave?” Paul asks him.
“Can you saythank you for the tip user26738?” Dave asks, and my heart sinks. I’m placing my napkin on the table and standing up to leave the restaurant before he can even finish voicing his request. I have my phone out, making my way out of the building, and ready to call Kurt to pick me up.But what if they tell Kurt everything?
Oh my God. This is so bad. There’s no leaving this date unscathed. Unless maybe I can convince these assholes to keep their mouths shut? I’m leaning against the side of the restaurant facing the parking lot, attempting not to have a panic attack.Fuck, why does every emotion I feel have to be elevated right now?I want to crawl out of my skin instead of feeling like this. It’s like the world is crushing me slowly, and I’d rather be sucked in than have to bear the weight of my circumstances.
A hand wraps around my wrist way too tightly, jarring me from my thoughts. It’s not gentle at all, and I know he’s going to leave a bruise. I’m used to roughness, but this borders toward hurt. This man wants to hurt me and show his dominance for no other reason than that he can.
“Get your ass back inside,” Paul demands. His grip tightens, making me wince as I try to tug myself away, which only makes the pain radiate up my arm.
“I think this date is over,” I say, even though I hear the wobble in my voice. I hate feeling so weak.
“And I say it’s not. You have no problem letting strangers pay to look at your tits or that bare little pussy of yours online. I think you can handle us paying for your meal,” Paul sneers.
I’ve never felt lower than I do when this man speaks to me. It’s like I’m not a person, but a thing created to please Alphasand men alike. What I do for money has nothing to do with my value as a person, nor does my designation. Tears well in my eyes, but I try to stay strong. Deep down I know I’m strong, maybe not physically so, but I’m not letting this Alpha take me anywhere without a fight. I’ll kick, scratch, bite, whatever I have to do to get away.
“Get your hands off of me,” I yell at him. He doesn’t relent, tugging my wrist to get me to go back into the restaurant.
Dave has joined us outside, and I have some hope he will talk some sense into his pack mate. Sure, he realized who I was, but he was the most polite throughout the date, even if he gave me the creeps.
“Oh, come on,Marielli,”he sneers my pseudonym.
