"Nice choice, want to split one?"
"Fat chance," I said quickly. "I want the whole thing, maybe two. You have to get your own."
Amusement shone in his mossy eyes. "If you say so."
“Do you like the decorations in here?” I asked, thinking that it kind of reminded me of Marcus’ overly white kitchen.
He looked around with a thoughtful hum, bobbing his head. “It’s nice and airy, I guess. Why?”
“No reason,” I said quickly, making myself busy reviewing the letterboard stuck to the back wall that held their drink menu. I’d never been much of a coffee guy, so it was a pleasant surprise to find that they had an impressive selection of teas to choose from. Usually, at a trendy place like this, I was reduced to green tea, English breakfast, or Earl Grey, but Kiki’s didn’t fuck around. Their options seemed to go on forever. “Do you know what you want?”
We headed to the counter where a lanky barista stood over the kiosk, their chipped purple nail polish reminded me of Tara.
"What can I get you?" they asked with a cheerful smile.
I ordered a Lavender London fog and the peach Swiss roll, with a strawberry one to have for dessert. Hey! An omega needed to eat! Marcus got a classic vanilla Swiss roll and a cappuccino.
After he paid, it didn't take long for our order to come out, and we found a place to sit near the window in some of the slightly uncomfortable chairs. This was a place they didn't want people camping out with their laptops, that was for sure. But Ididn’t mind since it was just a pitstop between home and the real location of our date.
I unfolded the house-shaped box carefully until it revealed my desserts, the little peaches so cute beside the pink of the strawberry, that I almost forgot to be upset about my fight with Indi, snapping a couple of photos with the intention to share them in the pack group chat later.
There was a perfect balance of icing to cake ratio, and not a single crack in the surface of the roll. My fork sliced through the strawberry slice like butter, too tempting with the fresh berries peeking out through the cream, and my eyes closed involuntarily when I put it in my mouth. It was the perfect balance of sweet and fresh with the burst of strawberries along my tongue.
"Oh,fuck."
Marcus hummed in approval, having dug into his own. "The baker who owns this place is pretty highly reviewed. I've been wanting to drop by for a while, but never seem to make the time."
"The reviews were right," I said with an appreciative groan, trying the peach next. The cake was airy and moist, but the star of the show was the preserves tucked under the cream.
Absolutely. Fucking. Delicious.
We ate our cakes. Me cruching mine so quickly that I wondered whether my alpha would consider one of those slow-feeding bowls meant for dogs for me. And Marcus, far more dignified, saving half for later.
I sipped my latte, eyes wandering out to the street and catching on a familiar face as she passed, long blonde hair swinging in a ponytail behind her.
“Ivy!” I called through the window, tapping on the glass to get her attention. I hadn’t seen her for a few weeks—not since that first night in the club with Eva when I’d stormed out, but I’dreally liked her. It was just my shitty object permanence that’d stopped me reaching out.
She turned, her blue eyes—different from Eva’s, which were clear and bright like the sky on a sunny day, dark and moody like the ocean, meeting mine and widening with surprise. At first, I hadn’t noticed the alpha with her, his ultra-short blond shaved hair melting into a fade towards the tattoos peeking from his collar, but he was looking too, and something about it… Didn’t feel right.
Ivy shook her head quickly, the flicker of fear on her face disappearing so quickly that I questioned if it had been there at all as she refocused the alpha’s attention on her, tugging him down the street.
“Do you know her?” Marcus asked with a frown. “That guy seems… sketchy.”
“Um,” I said, a little unsure. I was pretty positive that it was Ivy, but really, I’d met the girl once, and I was pretty drunk… “I thought so.”
My mate’s eyes narrowed with a disapproving hum. “Let’s go check out the store before it closes. If you know her, maybe send her a text later?”
“Yeah, I can do that,” I said, and Marcus packed up his leftover cake in the little frilly box, taking it and his coffee in one hand to offer the other to me, to lead me next door.
Vintage Vibez always had this distinct old paper smell I couldn't get enough of. If I could figure out how to bottle it for my room, I would. Behind the counter were rows of signed vinyls. There were shelves on either side of the room that held mostly VHS tapes and CDs. In the middle were tables lined with mismatched boxes that held records on one side, and comics on the other.
We set our drinks on the counter just inside the door, and I went straight to the boxes of comics to start sifting throughthem. The other part of this store that was fun was the hunt. Because it was vintage and the stock never stays the same, every trip felt different. You had to hunt for your good finds, and the chase was exhilarating.
I forgot about seeing Ivy almost instantly.
The scent I loved so much wafted up as I flipped through each of the comics, sipping on my tea. After a few flips, it occurred to me that the titles were a bit hard to read. Did I need glasses? No, it wasn't my vision, it was the light, it seemed like it was… dark?
When I turned, Marcus was looming over me.
