"That's one hundred percent a lie."
I frown.
She smirks further, the curl at the corners of her lips escalating into territory that makes my cardiovascular system reconsider its current operating parameters.
"You were hugging me like I was the best pillow ever. Face in my hair. Arms locked around my waist. Full-commitment, championship-level cuddling that would earn a gold medal in the spooning Olympics." She tilts her head. "So there's that."
I groan. The sound exiting my chest with the pained resonance of a man whose unconscious behavior has been reported back to him by the person it was inflicted upon and who possesses no defense because the accused was asleep during the commission of the crime.
"Erase that from your mind."
"Nah." She laughs, the sound bright and musical and carrying the specific, victorious frequency of a woman who holds leverage and has no intention of releasing it. "You looked so peaceful when you sleep, especially without those ugly glasses."
"You hate my glasses THAT MUCH?"
"Fuck yeah. They're ugly."
The verdict lands with the same finality it has carried in every previous iteration, the aesthetic assassination of my corrective lenses a recurring feature of our dynamic that I have come to accept as a permanent fixture rather than an evolving opinion.
I shake my head. The gesture carrying resignation that I allow to convert into a proposal before it reaches my vocal cords.
"Fine. We can go glasses shopping for you to pick your taste."
She grins. Wide. Unrestrained. The expression carrying the tactical excitement of a woman who has been granted authority over an Alpha's appearance and intends to exercise it with maximum creative freedom.
"I'll make you look so good, every Omega on the block will want your nerdy ass."
I roll my eyes.
"I only have one Omega on my radar." The words exit my mouth with a steadiness that my heartbeat does not share, each syllable deliberate, my green eyes holding hers with a focus that eliminates the possibility of misinterpretation. "And apparently she sleepwalks and can make a pretty mean bowl of protein cereal."
Her face ignites.
The blush does not build gradually this time. It arrives with the instantaneous, comprehensive coverage of a woman whose circulatory system has received a directive to redirect all available blood to the surface of her face and has complied with enthusiasm. Red from her jawline to her hairline, painting the freckled bridge of her nose and the apples of her cheeks and the tips of her ears in a shade that matches the cherry blossoms in her scent profile.
I down the remaining milk in my bowl in a single tilt. Set the ceramic on the island, stand, and carry it to the sink with the unhurried efficiency of a man who just delivered a statement that restructured the atmospheric composition of the kitchen and is now performing dishwashing with the calm of someone who considers the matter settled.
I dry my hands on the dish towel. Cross to the drawer beside the stove. Pull it open and retrieve the cash I placed there last night after the pasta, when the decision was already made but the timing was not yet right.
Six hundred dollars.
I walk back to the island and place the bills on the counter beside her cereal bowl.
She frowns.
"What's this for?"
"The money you gave me for the glasses. I don't need it."
Her frown deepens, the expression transitioning from confusion to objection with the speed of a woman whose pride has been activated by an offer of return.
"But you bought new glasses."
"I had an extra pair." The statement is true. The wire-rimmed frames currently sitting on my nightstand are from a backup set I have carried since the facility, where my therapist recommended maintaining redundant eyewear as a practicalmeasure against the anxiety that damaged glasses triggered. "Even if I didn't, I don't want to take from you."
She huffs. The sound pressurized with the specific frustration of a woman who is being denied the satisfaction of a completed transaction and suspects the denial has emotional rather than financial motivations.
"What? Starting to catch feelings?"
