“With pizza. Really good pizza.” He holds up his book, using it to motion toward the elevator. “I better get to class, unless…”
My heart pounds, images of being bent over my desk flashing through my mind. My throat goes dry. “Yes?”
“After what happened with that alpha, I can stay with you, if you don’t want to be alone?”
While his thoughtfulness is sweet, his presence is only going to distract me from hitting the books.
“Don’t skip your class. I can handle alphas like Tyler.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “He’s all bark and no bite. I can take care of myself, but thank you.”
“Okay.” Riven shifts from one foot to the other. “I guess I’ll go, then.”
I return to my book, still aware of his gigantic presence behind me.
“Kady?” I pretend to be so engrossed in my book that I can’t hear him. “Just because you can take care of yourself doesn’t mean you always have to.”
When I turn back, he’s already gone, leaving me feeling strangely empty in one of the places I used to feel happiest. And with a sudden craving for pizza.
The wind nips my cheeks as I leave the warmth of the library. I walk fast due to the chilly weather, though knowing the house will be empty, I’m in no rush to get home. Delilah’s out with her book club, and Sabs is training hard for her next volleyball match, meaning Larry will be my only company tonight. My fur baby has been extra cranky lately. I don’t know what’s got into him. This morning, he refused to eat his favorite cat food and completely shunned his belly tickles.
I shield my eyes to avoid being blinded by the bright headlights of an approaching bus. As I approach the stop, the bus pulls to the curb, and its door huffs open, illuminating the heated interior. For the first time in my life, public transportation actually seems inviting.
“Are you boarding?” The bus driver’s impatient question makes me jump.
I hadn’t realized that I was standing idly, staring inside.
My feet seem to move of their own accord, climbing up. Before I know it, I’ve taken a seat and am leaving the SVU campus. I’d initially intended on declining Riven’s offer for dinner, but my body clearly has other ideas.
“That’s her, isn’t it?” a beta giggles on my right. “I heard that she cheated on the Blandon Pack.”
“No way!” Her friend gasps. “I heard that she’s not even a real omega, and they left her when they found out.”
“Someone else told me that she eloped with another pack,” someone else speculates.
I bite my tongue to stop myself from snapping and flashing them my very vacant ring finger. I pop on my headphones todrown out more of their crazy gossip, watching the pines speed past as we trundle down the road.
When we come to a stop in the center of Forestville, I let everyone leave the bus before I rise from my seat. Armed with my phone and directions to Marco’s, the brisk night air spurs me on as I weave through the narrow streets. Shopkeepers are closing down for the day, exchanging pleasantries with their neighbors as they pull in signs for the night.
I take a sharp right then see Marco’s up ahead. The pizzeria’s windows are filled with steam from the warmth inside, and a rich tomato smell fills the entire street, reminding me of a holiday spent in Venice while on my travels, perusing the canals and soaking up the atmosphere, slice in hand.
I walk past the restaurant a few times, peering through the panes. It’s small, and most of the tables are already filled with people toasting glasses of wine and snapping breadsticks. However, I don’t see any of the Valen Pack.
It’s 7.45pm, so I am a little early.
Should I have brought something with me? Some kind of gift to apologize? But what gift would appropriately say sorry you spent a night in jail because of me? A verbal apology will have to do.
I take a deep breath, mentally psyching myself up, then march inside with my chin held high. A bell jingles, signaling my arrival, resulting in a friendly-looking man with an impressive handlebar mustache hurrying over to greet me.
“A table for one, mia signora?”
“I… I’m waiting for someone.”
His mustache twitches. “Ah, a date.”
“No!” I blurt, shaking my head. “Well, not exactly.”
“Take a seat at the bar.” He gestures to a stool. “You can have a drink while you wait. My son makes the best Negroni’s. That’ll take the edge off. First dates are nerve-wracking, no?”
Before I can explain that this definitely isn’t a date, I’m ushered over. His son pushes a huge Negroni across the bar while I unwrap my scarf.
