Page 1 of Knotty Escape
Chapter 1
Lila
“Look, Lila, I'm just not interested in going,” Larry says coldly, letting out an irritated huff. The exasperation practically drips off him, despite never glancing away from his computer screen. I blink, letting his words slowly sink in. Did he just huff at me? Is this man actually annoyed with me for asking him to take me to my birthday party?
He’sannoyed? The audacity of men never fails to amaze me. My berries and cream scent sours, and the only reaction I get is another huff.
“Don’t be all pissy about it. I just don't want to go anywhere tonight,” he grumbles when I don’t respond, still staring at the screen like his stupid game is all that matters, while tapping away on his keyboard and his mouse. “Do you mind?” he asks, snippy with me because I’m distracting him. His almond scent burns with his irritation, and I glare.
When did he turn into such a jerk?
He doesn’t care about the brand-new red dress clinging to my curves that I picked out for tonight. Couldn’t care less how I’ve done my blonde hair or makeup.
I shouldn’t be this surprised. It’s my fault for expecting more from this alpha.
Is my eye twitching? I clench my fists, my red painted nails dig into my palm with a bite of pain. How long has my boyfriend been like this? So unaffected. So…hollow? Does he even like me? Do I like him? Shit, I don’t think I do. Not anymore.
I can’t help but think back to the start of our relationship. To the weeks when he showered me with gifts and sweet gestures. Sure, he never remembered my favorite colors or that I hate lilies, but he tried back then.Right?
Or did he?
Maybe my best friend, Wendy, was right all along. Maybe he was love bombing me.
Lately, I can’t even get him to hang out with me in our damn apartment. His gaming room, which was once our guest room, isn’t that big. I’ve tried coming in here with a kitchen chair, just to sit with him while he plays, but he always kicks me out. Something about ‘my presence distracting him from his campaign.’
Today, he's been playing that game for almost five hours straight on my fucking birthday.
On my fucking birthday!
I scoff, but either he doesn’t hear me, or he doesn’t give a shit that I’m upset because he ignores me entirely. Not even his scent reacts to my distress. That alone should be the biggest red flag.
His instincts should be pushing him to care for me, at the least! But no. He’s completely unaffected.
Last year, we didn’t celebrate my birthday. Instead, we stayed home watching movies. Well, I watched movies on the couch, and Larry played video games in this room. Door closed, headphones on.
I didn’t get a cake. Not even a card. I squint, zoning out as I think about the last few months of our relationship. When was the last time he touched me? Not just rutted me through a heat,but really touched me? Fuck, has he ever touched my body like he enjoyed it? I can’t remember.
He’s never gone down on me. A fact that Wendy remains disgruntled about on my behalf. It doesn’t bother me. If it’s not Larry’s thing, he shouldn’t be forced to do it, even if he loves it when I suck his dick.
“What kind of man doesn’t even finger-fuck his girlfriend on her birthday, Lila?! Sure, he doesn’t want to go down on you, which, frankly, is concerning for an alpha’s instincts. But not even a decent finger bang?!”
Tonight will be another orgasm-free birthday, that's for sure. The thought pisses me off. Not because I think I’m owed an orgasm, but because Larry can’t even show me he cares for me on the one day a year that's supposed to be about me.
I’m an omega, for fuck’s sake. We have needs. Instincts.
“Not even to celebrate your girlfriend on her birthday? The party is for me, Larry. Everyone will notice if my boyfriend skips it,” I say, trying to keep the annoyance from my voice, but at this point, I don’t want him to go anymore.
It’s odd. This feeling. Six months ago, a moment like this would have had me in tears, but right now? Fuck this guy! He doesn’t touch me or hold me. He doesn’t even act like he wants me to be around him. And now I can’t even remember if he ever did.
I’m not going to keep blaming myself for the failures in our relationship. He puts in no effort. He doesn’t even care that I’m dressed up and covered in scent enhancers. Hasn’t so much as sniffed in my direction. I smell divine, damn it!
I’m nearing my heat, making my scent thicker, heavier. More needy. More alluring to alphas. Unless you’re my boyfriend, apparently.
He doesn’t even act as if he can tolerate my presence half the time, let alone enjoy it. Unless I’m bent over taking his mediocreknot, and even then…it’s as if fucking me is a chore. Like he just wants to come and doesn’t care with whom. Doesn’t enjoy my body. Couldn’t care less if I come or not.
Does my boyfriend even want me, or do I just take up space that he needs filled, a space anyone could occupy?
We don’t make love. Hell, we’re not even fucking. He just humps me till he comes and fucks off.
