“Um…”
DidIdo something to upset him?
From the sound of Marcus' laughter before I'd come in, it seemed like he and Joon were finally getting along. At least partially… Enough that they weren't completely at each other's throats.
So what happened?
Was it me?
No, that couldn't be it. Joon and I had been great since we cleared things up after the bar. Our relationship was probably the easiest out of anyone in the house, except maybe Indi, but—who the hell didn’t get along with Indi?
"What's eating him?" I asked, in a would-be casual tone as I reached to remove the strawberries off the top of my creme brulee, earning a hard smack of my fingers from Marcus.
"I have no idea when you last washed your hands. Use your fork, or I’ll have to serve you,” he scolded with a hard look that made my stomach heat. “Joon’s always like that. Hot one minute and cold the next. I used to think it was an omega thing, but…"
Marcus’ reassurance was just what I needed. My anxiety about Joon's mood disappearing as quickly as it'd appeared. It was really, really hard to focus on his rapidly shifting emotions when a giant, hot alpha was offering toserveme.
Okay, maybe I was a teeny, tiny bit of a shitty friend—packmate—sort-of-girlfriend-thing. But, hey! A girl deserved to be selfish once in a blue moon, and if I had to punch my card for anyone, Marcus seemed like a good choice.
"But then I showed up." I finished for him, meeting his eyes.
The alpha smiled, at least, he made an attempt, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he took my spoon, offering me a bite of creme brulee from the end. “Yeah, then you showed up.”
I blushed and mentally promised that I’d check on Joon and get his side of the story after dessert, leaning forward to take the offered bite.
The floorboards creaked, and I turned, offering the omega a grin—or, I would've, if it was Joon coming back through the doorway.
"That looks delicious, dollface," Indigo said cheerfully, pecking at my temple on the way past. "Who pissed off Joon? I thought we were having a nice, quiet evening for once."
Burned sugar and sea salt met my nose alongside Marcus' creamy crème brûléee and my knees wobbled, a wave of arousal that had everything to do with Indigo's tightly fitted black joggers and T-shirt as much as their scent.
"Joon pissed himself off," Marcus scoffed, scooping up another bite to offer to me.
Indigo groaned, pinching the bridge of their nose on the way to the coffee maker. "What did you say to him?"
"Actually," I mumbled, a little uncomfortably as I toed the tile with my foot under the table. "I think it was me. But I'm not sure why."
Indi opened their mouth to speak, but Marcus cut them off, his detached tone at odds with the irritated set of his shoulders.
"Because he always does this. He gets upset over little things, and instead of communicating, he takes it out on everyone?—"
"That's not fair," Indi snapped, the edge in their voice making me blink in surprise.
I didn't even know that they could be mad, much less talk to someone like that. More troubling, though, was the way my body responded to it, heat continuing to lick at my insides the longer I sat with my eyes bouncing between them.
If they wanted to force me to be in the middle, the least they could do is take their cocks out. Paris was supposed to be lovely this time of year.
Whoa! Eva, come on, babe? What is going on with you!
Focus!
This is about Joon! And we care about Joon way, way more than getting off.
"But not untrue," Marcus volleyed back, pointing the spoon at Indigo with emphasis. "He's fucking childish."
"He's sensitive," Indi stressed, fiddling with the buttons on the coffee maker with an annoyed sigh. "And sometimes he has a hard time talking about his feelings. Is that a crime? Because then we're all fucking guilty,especiallyyou. When's the last time you opened up to anyone? And no, shouting about your feelings into the abyss of the walk-in doesn't count."
The air shifted, and the wholly inappropriate sexy thoughts that I was trying to shelve were forgotten as I promptly started trying to mind my business.
