Page 8 of Pack Apollo

Just as fast as he and the orange floof have appeared, they disappear just as quickly, leaving Brent and I speechless for different reasons.

We turn to each other and let out quiet chuckles and speak at the same time.

"Is that not his dog?" I ask

"Thursday night?" he asks.

I laugh again. "He was my Uber this weekend. Taking meback and forth to work. I guess we've adopted each other at this point and he'll be my ride next weekend, too."

"It's not his dog," he confirms. "Palmer is pretty much the baby of our pack and is still undecided on anything he wants to do in life. He seems to want to try everything before settling. You'll probably see him around campus since he's taking classes on top of being a driver, dog walker, and several other odd jobs. You should ask him about those next weekend. Where is work for you?"

"Oh," I start, only slightly embarrassed. "Over at The Rowdy Rooster. I'm a bartender over there on the weekends."

He gives me a knowing nod. "So, you're a dancer, too, then?"

"Yeah," I reply. "It pays really, really well, and the people are always nice. Three nights a week and I make more than a lot do working forty-to-sixty-hour jobs."

"Good for you," he praises. "As long as you enjoy it, then that's all that matters."

"No judgement then?" I ask, masking my bitterness. Wouldn't be the first time someone did. Just ask my roommate. I thought she was going to have an aneurysm and hasn't spoken a single word to me since.

"Nope, none from me," he says with another bright smile.

The credits start to roll on the screen in front of us, and his phone vibrates in his pocket. The name Cordell pops up on the screen, not like I was trying to look but just happened to glance down out of habit. Brent holds up a finger to me before standing to walk away while answering it. When he walks closer to the building, the lights make him more visible than he was sitting beside me, giving me the perfect opportunity to admire him. In a pair of tight blue jeans, a button-down shirt that strains just as hard around the arms as his one the other day did, and one of those damn vests that he's always wearing, it'skind of unbelievable that he's wasting time sitting here with me and not off with someone more his caliber. I don't think I'm ugly, but I am in no way on his level. And before knowing Palmer is a part of his pack I would've said that there's no way I could've dealt with an entire pack of Brents next weekend. Extremely attractive, intelligent, and successful. And, I am over here dancing on bars. I'll just keep my fingers crossed that the rest of their pack is as down to Earth and as easy to get along with as they are. Chiefly because I can't believe I even agreed to go to begin with.

I admire the way his heavy muscles flex as he pockets his phone and makes his way back over to me. He sits just as the next movie starts, the iris of his blue eyes flashing bright as the screen lights up.

"Sorry," he apologizes. "One of our other pack mates. We normally spend Sundays as a pack since we're all typically off work, but Roz was out of town on business. We decided to all do our own thing, and he was just checking in to make sure he didn't need to cook dinner."

"That's okay," I tell him, surprisingly moved that he is so open with sharing his life with me. It makes me want to share something with him in return. "Me and my mom used to do a huge breakfast and something fun on Sundays. She always had that day off, too. But, that was before the accident."

"What kind of accident was it?" he asks. "Car?"

I shake my head, "Work. She used to work at a furniture factory. One day a machine went haywire and pinned her against the wall. It shattered her right hip and leg."

"Wow, that's awful," he sympathizes.

Looking down at the blanket, I pick off an invisible thread as I tell him a truth I've never told anyone. "That was the easy part. Therapy and recovery was immensely difficult for her. She didn't take it well. One day she started drinking and she neverquit."

"How old were you?" he asks.

"Thirteen," I tell him.

"What about your pack?" he questions.

Can't say I blame him. That's always the first question that anyone has ever asked. "My alpha dad and his pack got my beta mom pregnant and abandoned her."

"Wow, that's tough," he replies with a sad shake of his head.

I lift a shoulder and glance back up at him. "When it's life and you don't know any different, it's just how it is. Sometimes when life gets hard, you've just got to be harder."

"That's very wise," he states proudly.

For a moment our eyes lock and his flick down to my lips, but then someone around us lets out a short scream at the gore on the movie and the moment is broken. We both look away, leaving me wondering if he's feeling the same feeling of regret for it being stolen.

We watch the rest of the movie in relative silence, sharing snacks and once or twice brushing hands as we do. Every single time, a swarm of butterflies takes off in my belly and his sweet, fruity-cereal scent gets stronger. I'm not sure if it's my omega sense picking up the change or if it's just his alpha scent trying to persuade me. If it's the latter, I'm woman enough to admit that it's working. I don't think I'll be able to go the rest of the week without smelling it.

By the time the credits are rolling on the second movie, it's late and he stands to help me up before folding my blanket. In a quick gentlemanly move, he takes my hand and kisses the back of it.

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