3
John
Was this shit reallyhappening?
I had no idea. It did not feel real. One day a hot available alpha wants into the exact room of the adoption centre that I’m sitting in, and the next day he’s asking me out on a date. And Iacceptedit.
We strode out of the adoption centre now, our hands intertwined. His hands were strong but gentle, no rough calloused hands like I’d been led to believe was a trait of alphas everywhere. He squeezed me gently almost as if on cue. I didn’t ever want toletgo.
“So,” I began, trying to think of a conversation topic. “Where doyouwork?”
Vincent nodded to his left. “Over there at the bank. I’m an accountant for the pack.” He chuckled. “I basically just spend all day counting and telling people not to waste their money on stuff theydon’tneed.”
“Wow,” I said, genuinely impressed. “That’sreallycool.”
He cocked a brow. “Reallythinkso?”
“I do. I’m crap at math. I could never handle a job where that’s what I have to do every day,” Iadmitted.
Vincent’s brows furrowed, like he was really thinking it over. “I guess you’re right. I’ve never thought of it like that before. I should be more thoughtful of that kind of stuff in thefuture.”
I blushed. “Oh, it’s okay, you don’t have to do that becauseofme.”
He held out his other hand in a gentle stopping gesture. “I want to. See? You’ve already taught me something.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “We’re good for eachother.”
My cheeks might as well have exploded. I blushed hard, completely flabbergasted that he would say that. I stammered. I didn’t know whattosay.
Vincent just laughed, a low pleasant rumbling sound. It made my chesttighten.
“And you, John?” he asked. “What do you do for aliving?”
I groaned. “I wished youdidn’task.”
Vincent glanced at me curiously. “Why’sthat?”
“It’s just… embarrassing,” I muttered, staring at the sidewalk go by as we walked. “I’m awriter.”
Vincent stopped. “What? That’s not embarrassing at all. That’s way cooler than whatIdo.”
I shrugged. “I dunno. It’s just my job, I guess. I’m usedtoit.”
He squeezed my hand again, which made my heart flutter. His eyes had grown large with curiosity and interest. “What sort of things do you write about? Can I buy a bookoffyou?”
I laughed nervously. “Um - I mean, I don’t have any on me, but you might find them at the store? In the romancesection?”
“For real? Are they under your name? John Turner?” Vincent was getting increasingly loud and excited, much to my embarrassment. I couldn’t stop blushing even if I wanted to - which I did. Like,alot.
Something in the corner of my eye flickered. A few people were walking past us in the opposite direction. I noticed them casting sidelong glances at Vincent with strange expressions - almost like they were afraidofhim.
Why would they be afraid of Vincent? Were we looking at the samealpha?
Sure, he was broad-shouldered, tall and well muscled. And sure, his face had sharp, hard features that made him look serious more often than he seemed to be… But there was nothing scaryabouthim.
Vincent had calmed down now and was following my line of sight. As soon as he glanced up at the people staring at him, they quickly averted their gaze and hurried away, making sure to give us a wide berth. I was completely baffled at thatexperience.
“What the hell was that?” I muttered. “Weirdos.”
A dark expression crossed Vincent’s face. “They’re not weird. I’m usedtoit.”
