I blink, thrown off by the sudden shift in his tone. “No. It’s just…reality.”
“No, it’s not.” His voice tightens, like the words are struggling to stay controlled. He steps even closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming in a way that makes my breath catch in my throat. “You’re seriously standing here thinking you’re less because you’re an omega? What, did someone tell you that crap? Omega’s are precious.”
My heart races, and for a second, I don’t know what to say. Butterflies explode in my stomach as he holds my gaze. This conversation isn’t going the way I thought it would. Mason’s expression’s unreadable, but there’s an intensity in his eyes that sends a shiver through me.
“It’s just how things are,” I mumble, trying to downplay what I just admitted. “It’s fine, Alpha, you don’t have to pretend to care.”
His hand suddenly finds my shoulder, his grip firm but not harsh. He looks at me, really looks at me, like he’s trying to see past every wall I’ve ever built. “I’m not pretending. And you’re notlessthan anyone. Not Dean, not anyone.”
His words hit me harder than they should, cracking something open in my chest. My parents’ disappointment, their constant reminders that I was a letdown because I wasn’t the alpha they’d expected—that weight I’ve carried for so long—it’s suddenly hanging in the air between us. And he’s looking at me like he can’t believe I actually believe it.
I force a smile, the one I always wear when I’m trying to hide the cracks. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m good at playing my part.” I start to turn away, eager to escape this moment, but his hand catches my arm, gentle but firm.
“Chad,” he says, and it’s softer this time, the usual sharpness in his tone replaced by something else. “I’m serious. You’re not just some placeholder.”
I freeze. The words hang between us, making my chest feel tight and hollow all at once. For a split second, it’s like he sees through every wall I’ve built. My breath catches before I can stop it, and I shake him off with a forced laugh. “Whatever you say, Alpha.”
His expression changes, softens in a way that hits too close, right in the tender spots I don’t let anyone see. It makes my throat tighten because I know that look. Pity. And I don’t want it. I don’t want anything from him.
He steps closer anyway, his thumb brushing lightly against the side of my neck, a touch so brief and unintentional it sends a bolt of warmth coursing through me. “I’m serious. Chad, there’s nothing wrong with you.”
The sincerity in his voice burns, and I jerk away like his touch is fire. My skin tingles where his thumb had been, and it takes everything in me not to shudder. He flinches as if he can feel it too, pulling back a step, his gaze darting anywhere but to mine.
It’s all I need to find my inner bitch, the armor I never leave home without.
“Find someone that needs your lies,Alpha.” My voice drips with venom, but my smile is razor-sharp. “I know I’m perfect.”
I don’t wait for a reaction, don’t look at the way his jaw tightens or the flicker of something I can’t name in his eyes. I just walk away, letting the sting in my chest fuel every step.
He follows me, silent and steady, like a panther stalking its prey. I pretend not to notice, keeping my head high even thoughhis presence prickles at the back of my neck. When the barista looks up expectantly, I manage to place my order without my voice betraying me.
“Is that all?” she asks, her gaze darting nervously behind me to the looming shadow that is Mason.
“I’ll take a coffee, black.”
The deep rumble of his voice sends a ripple through me, but I force myself to twist and face him with an unimpressed glare. He stands there, smug and unbothered, like a dog with a bone.
“I don’t do charity,” I snap, letting my gaze rake deliberately down over his black tank top, lingering on the way it hugs his chest and shoulders. My eyes dip lower to the frayed edges of his ripped jeans that somehow manage to look incredible on him. When I glance back up, they catch on the necklaces around his neck, the silver glinting against his sun-kissed skin. Damn him. I swallow, trying to keep my bite intact, though it’s fading fast.
He raises a brow, his lips curling into a knowing smirk, like he’s caught on to every single thought I’ve tried to hide. “Don’t worry, Pretty Boy, this one’s on me.”
With deliberate ease, he pulls a crumpled twenty from his pocket, leaning past me to hand it to the barista.
The shift in proximity floods my senses. Campfire smoke and sweet marshmallows. My mouth waters, and I fight the urge to lean in just to get another whiff.
“Or don’t perfect, pretty boys accept kindness?” His green eyes pin me in place, steady and teasing, as the faint taunt in his words hangs between us.
Kindness. That’s the one thing that always messes me up. My defenses waiver, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, trying—and failing—to hold back the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. Damn him again.
I have a type, and Mason ticks every single box. Rough around the edges, sharp-eyed, and confident without trying toohard. And if I’m honest, I’m feeling reckless. That tennis lesson left me raw in ways I’m not ready to face, and I need something—or someone—to distract me.
If this rugged alpha wants to be that distraction, who am I to fight it?
I shrug, playing it off like his offer doesn’t matter. Like him calling mepretty boyover and over is just a jab I can brush off, when I know damn well I’ll turn it over in my head later. Let it burrow under my skin and sit there. It’s just the way I’m wired—add a sprinkle of purposeful kindness, and I’m done for. Sad, but true.
“I guess you can sit with me,” I say, throwing out the words like I’m some cool kid handing out favors.
He chuckles, the sound low and warm, and it washes over me like a balm. I’m already halfway regretting letting him in, but it’s too late now.
