"You pulledout. Who does that? You're a monster."
"You have a library shift in ninety minutes."
"I would rather die on this counter than shelve a single book without your knot inside me."
He laughs harder, burying his face in my shoulder. My legs are trembling, I'm covered in his come, the kitchen smells like burnt eggs, and I'm laughing too. It's perfect. Better than perfect.
He reaches over and clicks the stove off. I stay slumped over the counter because my legs are officially on strike.
"Shower," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the nape of my neck. "I'll make more eggs."
"You ruined the first eggs."
"You ruined the first eggs. I was doing great until you walked in here wearing that."
"You told me to take the shirt."
"I didn't tell you to wear it with nothing underneath and walk into my kitchen looking like—" He cuts himself off, shaking his head. The look on his face is pure, exasperated devotion.
The shower is quiet. He washes my hair, his large hands working the shampoo through my curls with careful, thorough efficiency. I stand under the hot spray and force myself to just let him take care of me. It's harder than it sounds. My instinct is to help, to be useful, but I keep my hands at my sides.
He runs a thumb over my bite mark under the water. The bond hums under my skin, and I shiver.
"We should tell Ava this week," he says.
"I know."
He waits. He's good at that—giving me room to breathe.
"I know we need to," I add quietly. "I just...can I have today? Can this just be ours before it becomes everyone else's?"
He pulls me against his chest, pressing his mouth to my wet hair. He doesn't say a word, which is exactly what I need.
I get dressed in yesterday's wrinkled clothes. Callum wraps a dark blue knit scarf around my neck, carefully adjusting the fabric until it covers the bite completely. His eyes trackthe hidden mark with a dark, possessive flare that makes my stomach flip.
I pick up his gray shirt from the bedroom floor and start to fold it. You don't just take people's clothes.
"Take it," Callum says from the doorway.
I hesitate.Don't impose. Don't be a burden.The thought rings loud in my head, but it only lasts two seconds before I shove the shirt into my bag. It smells like him, and I want it in my bed tonight.
Getting out the door takes longer than it should. The bond pulls at my chest like a physical tether. He kisses me—slow, unhurried, a promise that he'll see me soon.
"Text me when you get to the library," he orders softly.
"You're not my mom."
"Text me anyway."
I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling as the apartment door clicks shut behind me.
I step into the empty elevator and catch my reflection in the metallic doors. Just a guy in yesterday's jeans and a borrowed scarf. From the outside, I look exactly the same. But the Milo who walked into this building last night had never been chosen on purpose. The Milo walking out just had his alpha pull out at the last second so he wouldn't be late for a shift.
I don't know what you call that, but it might be the most romantic fucking thing that's ever happened to me.
The doors slide open to the bright campus sunlight. The world is loud and completely ordinary, totally unaware that my entire life just changed. I adjust the scarf, hike my bag up my shoulder, and step out into it.
Callum
