“Anyway, it’s nice to be back here,” she said, changing the subject and gesturing to the empty bar. “I used to sneak out at night when I was a teen and destroy all the drunk alphas on the arcade games.”
I grinned. It wasn’t hard to imagine a younger Westin brazenly taunting alphas, although protectiveness filled me thinking about her being in unsafe situations.
“Here ya go,” Cillian said, slamming down two plates on the bar in front of us, along with two pints of beer.
I jumped, having been so immersed in everything Westin said I’d almost forgotten where we were.
“Thanks,” she said brightly, giving my hand a squeeze before she slipped her fingers from mine.
I fought the urge to grab back her hand.
We dug into our food and I was surprised at how good it was. I tried my best not to hyperfixate on the image of Westin eating a hot dog, but my dick twitched against the seam of my pants.
“It’s not Italian, but it’s good, right?” Westin asked, taking a large sip of her Guinness.
“It’s great,” I said, finishing the rest of my food. “Does that… happen a lot? Being turned away from restaurants or other places?”
Westin’s smile faltered, and I cursed myself for bringing up another sensitive subject.
“I don’t go out often, so it’s hard to say. But I feel like I still get a lot of looks whenever I’m on my own. We’ll even get customers at the bakery who don’t want to be served by omegas.”
I stiffened. Was she unsafe at work?
“Josie’s alphas are always there,” she added, as if she could sense the direction of my thoughts. “Ben works in the bakery and the other two are in the offices upstairs. So they’re available if there are any issues. I just don’t get why people are so hateful.”
Her words were soft, the sadness evident in her big brown eyes. I could see these two sides of Westin—the wild and playful side and this softer, vulnerable side. I sensed she hid this part of herself away, and I was honored she would show it to me.
I ran my fingers down the side of her face. The neon lights cast a red glow over her skin, and her eyes seemed to glitter in the light. She leaned closer to me. My breath hitched for amoment before I closed the rest of the distance, pressing my lips against hers.
The kiss was soft, barely a brush of our lips, but somehow it felt like the entire universe shifted, with Westin at the center.
The sound of a throat clearing broke the moment.
“Do you have to do that at my bar?” Cillian asked.
Westin turned towards him and rolled her eyes. “Get over it, grumpy old man. But don’t worry, we’ll head back to the arcade.”
“You might still have the high score on Pac-Man,” Cillian grumbled.
“No fucking way!” Westin shouted. “Let’s see,” she said, dragging me through the dark curtain to the empty arcade.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done something like this… just for fun. Westin stopped in front of the Pac-Man machine.
“Shit, we need tokens,” she said, her face falling.
“I’ll go get some,” I said, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her cheek before tracking down the token machine. I ended up buying $100 worth so she wouldn’t have to worry about running out.
Westin’s eyes widened as she took in my bulging pockets.
“Might have gone overboard,” I mumbled, slipping a handful of tokens into her hand. “I guess we’ll just have to come back if we don’t spend them all.”
Westin blushed, her fingers closing around the tokens. “I guess we will.”
Then she fired up the game. Within seconds, it was clear why she held the top spot on the scoreboard. I’d never thought about Pac-Man as a game that required skill, but Westin was proving me wrong. Finally, the ghosts cornered her, and she died with an outraged squeak.
I chuckled, wrapping my arms around her. “That was impressive.”
Westin let out a little huff. “Nowhere close to my top score,” she said, pointing at the scoreboard. The number one spot was claimed by Sh0rtcakeDem0n.
