I’m better than this. Or, I’m supposed to be.
I clean my glasses, splash cool water on my face, and tighten my ponytail, gearing up to go out there, ignore him, and get on with the rest of my day.
***
He’s sitting on the rug against the wall with his head in his hands.
I stumble at the sight of him like this, surrounded by books on the rug.
He lifts his head and says, “Not cool.”
I laugh bitterly. “Watching me try to go on a date? How do you think I felt watching you flirt with everything with a vagina a hundred times?”
His expression hardens. “First, I don’t flirt with everything with a vagina.”
“No. I have a vagina and you definitely never flirted with me before. I stand corrected.”
He’s frowning as he goes on. “All I’ve done is live my life. If you chose to scrutinize and judge me for every second of it, that’s on you. Second, I didn’t know who my mate would be when I wasjust goin’ about my business. I sure as shit ain’t the first alpha to have a sexual history before mating. And no, I didn’t flirt with you, Bailey. You’re Grey’s little sister. How do you think that would go over? But now we both know we’re supposed to be together, should be in my bed right now with our limbs wrapped around one another, my mark on your skin, our scents on one another.”
He’s shaking his head, looking at me with disappointment, with hurt. “Knowing I’m your mate, you make a date with that beta? Put your hands on him in front of me when you made it so I can’t touch you? If I’d ripped him to shreds like I wanted to, I would’ve been the bad guy. But whose fault would it have been, Bailey?”
“Yours,” I state. “You’re responsible for your actions. But how did it feel, Jason?” I demand, bitchily, forcing a smile that feels foreign on my face.
He shakes his head with a disappointed expression.
I add, “I’m not responsible for your emotions.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “But I was responsible for yours before I knew you were mine?”
My heart is beating too fast.
“You know…” He starts and I don’t want to hear this, but I guess I don’t have much choice. “I’ve been stressed for months about how I’d cope with having a deep emotional connection with someone else when I know nothing about how to do it right. Yeah, I got my rocks off, but I never got serious with any female on purpose, never led anybody on. I saved getting deep for whoever I was gonnabewith. And I watched you on that concrete basement floor with a thin blanket and shitty pillow not only pissed I couldn’t keep you warm, couldn’t protect you. I was up all night looking at you, feeling things I’ve never felt before,remembering things about you and me over the years, and wondering how the fuck I’d do right by you when I’ve got zero experience with relationships. But after that little stunt you just tried to pull, I’m sensing I’m already better at this relationship shit than my fuckin’ fated mate, so I guess you just never know how these things’ll go.”
My heart is pounding really hard right now. Too hard. I need air. I need a cigarette. I need space, away from Jason.
Scents hit my nose. Ivy and Amie.
Jase obviously smells them too by how he cusses under his breath and rubs his eyes, looking exasperated. And exhausted.
They’re standing at the door together, surveying the scene of Jase sitting on the floor in a pose of defeat with books all over the place and with me standing in front of him with my arms folded over my chest.
I widen my eyes and they show they’ve caught the vibe because Amie mouths, “Later,” grabbing Ivy’s hand. Ivy blows me a kiss and they go.
“You know what?” I say, “You don’t get to turn all this around on me and make me feel guilty.” I turn my back on him. “You’ve made it very clear you didn’t want my attention the last few weeks, at times being downright nasty to me when I really didn’t deserve that. And now because I smell a certain way I’m supposed to just open my legs for you?”
When he doesn’t answer, I look over my shoulder. He’s grinding his teeth.
My eyes hit the wall clock. It’s nearly four o’clock. I usually close at five on Saturdays, but I can’t do any more people-ing today. I want to go home and take a hot bubble bath. Lose myself ina book while I shame-eat the rest of the box of cookies and the three remaining giant muffins.
I guess I’ll check in with my group chat and the petition tomorrow to see what progress has been made.
I shut down my computer, returnThinnerto its shelf, wash the three dirty coffee mugs by the coffee station, gather the two baked goods boxes into my “I’ve got no shelf control” book bag, and move around the space, turning lights out.
He’s picked the books up from the floor and put them back on the shelves. They’re out of order, but I’ll fix that tomorrow.
He’s by the door, holding it open when I grab my purse and loop it over my shoulder.
I steel myself against the hurt in his eyes and the emotions trying to penetrate, and walk a few paces past him before waiting for him to clear the closing door so I can lock up.