The girls next to us are whispering. “He’s a hot Beta, maybe that’s why she’s into him,” one of them says, sending a ping of frustration throughout me.
I don’t know if it’s because I need to prove it to these little brats or if I need to let Ethan know his designation doesn’t mean shit to me. But I tug on his shirt, making him bend down as I lean forward on the stoppers of my skates and give him a kiss.
“You being hot is very low on the list of why I’m here with you,” I whisper against his lips before going back down on four wheels and glancing up at him.
He licks his lips, and I track the motion.
“It won’t just be adolescent judgmental girls who think things like that,” he says, glancing at the girls who got too uncomfortable and decided to move.
“I don’t give a fuck about what other people think. You know one of my dads is a Beta, right?”
He shakes his head, and I grin, thinking about my dad. “My dad Henderson is one of the best people I know. He evens out my parents’ pack, and he is seriously the funniest. I know Betas in a pack is considered unconventional, but those closed-minded assholes can go fuck themselves.”
Ethan looks at me like I hung the moon.
“And there we have it, girls win!” the announcer says over the speaker.
Ethan seems lost for words as I grab his hand, the lights dimming as disco lights fill the space. “Come skate with me while I figure out what we’re going to do with the rest of our evening,” I tell him.
His hand feels right in mine. We continue to get a few odd looks as we skate, but I couldn’t give a single shit.
I feel like I’m floating on air as we skate, joke, and the world seems effortlessly simple.
“Sloane, this is a bad fucking idea,” Ethan says.
“Don’t worry, my dad isn’t home. Plus, we parked down the street. They won’t even know I’m home.”
He’s still reluctant but follows me in the dark as I lead us to the side entrance of the garage, and we climb up the stairs to my apartment.
Ethan looks around, taking in my space, and clicks his tongue.
“It’s very clean,” he says, and I shrug.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask as I open up my cabinet.
Ethan comes to stand behind me and glances at my options, which are organized by type of liquor and alphabetically.
“Might as well go with tequila because if your dad knows I’m here, he might fucking kill me.”
I laugh and grab two glasses, pouring us both a hefty glass.
“My death’s funny to you, Applegate?” he says, sitting on the couch as I hand him the drink.
“It’s just so funny. Everyone fears the man who would read meFranklin the Turtlebooks in different voices.”
“Well, we can’t all be precious little Omegas, now can we?”
“Hmm. Precious, you say?” I joke, tucking my legs under me as I rest my head against the back of the couch.
“I don’t need to have a knot or go fucking feral over your scent to realize you’re special,” he says.
I tip back some more tequila, hissing at the taste, before putting a coaster down and then my glass on the coffee table.
“Tell me more,” I say, leaning more into his space and putting a coaster down for him as well, which he quickly utilizes for his own drink.
“You’re kind, compassionate, patient, and you’re the first person in a really long time who’s believed in me,” he says.
My heart breaks immediately, and I do my best to hide how much it hurts. But I’m terrible at hiding my emotions as Ethan cups my face.
