Or maybe that’s highlighter. Makeup would explain how he looks like he doesn’t have any pores.
I consider pinching myself to see if this is actually a dream, because he’s…unreal.
It freaks me out.
Oscar flashes his perfectly aligned pearly teeth at me as I force myself to meet his eyes.
“It’s okay to be nervous, Archie.” He reaches across the table and sets his hand atop mine. “I’m nervous too.”
The gesture is meant to be comforting, but it makes my omega want to shrink back because the weight of his larger hand and the way he’s gripping my fingers don’t feel reassuring as much as it feels…dominating. Plus, I hate when people call me Archie.
Despite what he said, I don’t think he’s nervous at all. Which is weird. Blind dates are awkward and stilted and strange. But he rocked up into the restaurant, and greeted me with a charming, easy smile, like he has nothing to be worried about. Like he already knows things will go well.
Which I guess makes sense. I can’t imagine most omegas wouldn’t swoon the second they met Oscar.
I’m the one that doesn’t fit in this romantic movie meet cute.
“So, Archie, tell me about yourself,” Oscar says, sitting back in his chair and taking a sip of his champagne. Because yes, the man ordered us champagne.
Which is sweet. Romantic, I guess.
But also, I wasn’t planning on drinking tonight because I haven’t had the chance to eat anything since before work this morning. Also, I realized as I was getting ready that I’d forgotten to take my suppressant, so I took that right before I came. Alcohol and heat suppressants on an empty stomach is not a good combo.
Oscar insisted, saying he could afford it “no problem.” And that I was “worth it.”
Again, it should be flattering, but all I could think was that he’s trying to get me drunk so I’ll go back to his place. That the cost of a nice bottle of champagne is the price of me taking his knot.
A knot which I came here hoping would be my first, if we hit it off, so I don’t know why I’m being weird about it.
Dammit, I wish I didn’t have my fucking paranoid dad’s voice in my mind telling me I shouldn’t be here. That I’m not safe with any alphas.
I take a swig of my champagne before I answer him, praying that it’ll help chill me out a bit. My pulse spikes when his keen green eyes drop to watch my throat work as I swallow the liquid.
It should be sexy. It objectivelyissexy, the slight flare of heated interest as he looks at me.
God, I need to relax.
I down half the glass.
Oscar grins at me, like he’s pleased by that.
“Well, um, I make candles. As my job, not a hobby. Though I guess it started as a hobby? Anyway, I, uh, I work with scents, so actually, not just candles.” I laugh awkwardly.
The alpha smiles back at me indulgently. “That’s so cute. Do you sell them at craft fairs and stuff like that?”
It’s hard not to bristle at him calling my passion and livelihood “cute,” but I’m sure he meant nothing by it. “Uh, I used to when I first got started, but last year, I opened a storefront. Perfect Scent Match. You may have seen it, it’s not too far from here, over in Eastside near the?—”
“I don’t spend much time in Eastside,” Oscar interrupts, sounding amused at the suggestion that he would.
“Oh, well, okay…”
He gives me a not so subtle once over. “But I could be persuaded to go more often.”
A flush rises on my cheeks. “Oh okay. I’ve been told I can be persuasive.”
Mostly by Queen when I’m asking her for help on a quest.
“I bet you have.” Oscar’s voice dips low.
