I shrug. “Eh. We’ll see.”
“There’s a certain Omega that works next door to me that I try to win over every day.” There’s a sparkle in his eye as he says it.
“Really?” I play along. “What’s she like?”
He places his fork down and keeps his eyes on mine. “She’s beautiful, kind, smart, and has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve met. Sometimes, she wears a skirt that drives me fucking crazy to the point where I have to splash cold water on my face to calm myself down.”
I know exactly what skirt he’s talking about. It’s faded black denim with a frayed hem, distressed but still tasteful when paired with a black cardigan.
“She sounds nice.” I smirk.
“She’s my best friend, but kind of a tease, too. And I’m pretty sure she’s my scent match, and I can’t wait for the day that happens.”
Thatcatches me by surprise, so much that I’m rendered speechless.
I open and close my mouth, unsure what to say.
I had hoped, I had wondered ifmaybethat was the case.
But I had no idea he was waiting for it to happen, too.
This night couldn’t be any better.
I’m on the same page with Ivan, metaphorically and physically, if you count starting our new book together.
“I’ve had a long time to think about what I would do when it happens,” he adds lowly.
“Oh, yeah?” I squeak. I take an obnoxious gulp of my soda, the carbonation burning my throat.
Was the restaurant always this hot?
Were my palms always this clammy?
But still, there’s a quiet but steady voice of doubt in the back of my mind.
What if he doesn’t want to deal with you worrying all the time?
What if he sees you break down over something that no one else would?
Yet those worries are quiet, barely a whisper over the squealing of my inner Omega, who is doing a backflip and high kicks.
“Yup. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens,” he adds.
His caramel apple scent grows heady, almost stronger than the rest of the aromas in the restaurant.
I haven’t truly been alone with Ivan, ever.
I’ve never had him to myself, where I’m only breathing him in and not the extra scents of people around us.
That’s likely what has stopped the scent match from happening.
“I can’t wait,” I tell him. “Bring it on. Do your worst.”
His smile is devious. “I will.”
I breathe him in again, wondering if it’s too forward to just ask him to follow me back to my apartment.
I have the urge to nest, to throw my best blankets on my bed and burrow under them while Ivan joins me.
