Page 44 of Knot All is Crystal
“Yeah, I try not to drive if I don’t have to.” What he leaves unspoken is it’s a pain in the ass at best and impossible at worst to drive with a migraine.
I place the makeshift vase on the small dining table just off my kitchen. “Are you hungry? I thought we could order delivery.”
I would love to go on a walk and have dinner with him in public, but if any of Kieran’s minions saw us and reported back to him, Emmanuel would be in danger, and I can’t let him get hurt because of me.
He smiles and leans against the kitchen island. He’s freshly shaven today, with his hair styled in dark waves, a little product holding them in place artfully. He looks loads better than when I first saw him.
“Sounds like a plan. There’s that Greek place over on 10th Street. Do you ever eat there?”
“Oh, all the time. I love the falafel and moussaka.”
A broad smile stretches across his face, and my breath catches in my throat.
He’s so fucking beautiful. A man should not be allowed to be that beautiful.
Emmanuel pulls out his phone and searches for the number. “Me too! Let’s get an order of each and some baklava?”
I can feel the flush coloring my neck as I duck my head. “I actually made dessert. Crème brûlée.”
Emmanuel’s large hand reaches out and touches my shoulder. My stomach does this swoopy thing that makes my knees weak. “I can’t wait to try it.”
Once the order is placed, and he refuses my attempt to pay half of it at least six times, we move to my living room and perch awkwardly next to one another on the couch.
“So, what do you do for a living?” I ask because I am the best at small talk.
He reclines back a little and crosses one leg over the other. “I’m a web designer. I work freelance so that I can dictate my own schedule. It helps, what with the whole…” He makes a gesture around his head. “It got too hard to work for someone else when I called out so much.”
“I get that. And you like it?”
“Yeah, it’s a job. It’s not my dream or anything, but working a job that isn’t my passion is fine by me.”
I pull a throw pillow into my lap, toying with the tasseled edges. “I agree. I think there is a lot of pressure to follow your dreams, and sometimes it gets forgotten that working a job that pays the bills so you can live your life how you want is the dream of many.”
“Is the Design Clinic your passion?” He tilts his head to the side, shaggy, dark hair swooping into his eyes with the movement. Crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell the story of someone who has smiled a lot over his lifetime.
I scoot a little closer as he speaks, unable to deny the magnetic draw I feel towards him. When he notices, he opens his body to let me get closer. “It is, and it isn’t. I want to help people, and I love research. One day, if I can get my doctorate, I hope to be able to run my own trials and studies. But for now, my main focus is ensuring my sister and niece have a good life.”
He brushes a stray piece of hair out of my eyes. “You have a sister? I feel like you know a lot about me because of the nature of your job. I don’t know anything about you, Crystal.”
I exhale slowly, trying to decide what is safe to tell him.
“Yeah, I do. My parents died when I was young, so my sister practically raised me. It was really important to her that I go to the Omega Academy, but honestly, I’ve never really felt like much of an Omega or enjoyed being one.” He leans a little closer to me, our arms touching. “I never thought I’d have a pack at all. Didn’t really want one. No offense.”
“None taken,” he says with an understanding smile. “I don’t have a pack. But you knew that, right?”
Chuckling, I nod sheepishly. “I did. It’s in your file. It’s one of the reasons why I feel comfortable getting to know you. I can’t imagine scent matching with someone outside of a bar or something, then moving in with five dudes the next day and being expected to get to know all of them.” I shudder dramatically. “It’s my nightmare, I swear.”
“Why would you move in immediately? Are you expecting me to move in?”
“God, no. I feel like Omegas are always so quick to jump into the arms of Alphas. Couldn’t be me.” I pull my feet up on the couch, crossing my legs. I’m glad I didn’t end up putting shoes on. “Not that you’re not great. But we don’t know each other well enough yet, you know?”
“I get it. This is weird, right?” He chuckles and leans a little closer to me. “I’m almost forty years old and feel like a teenager on my first date.”
My eyes widen when he mentions his age. I had forgotten entirely. “Uh, you know I’m twenty-eight, right? Wait. Of course, you don’t. How would you?” When I look up at him, his eyes are wide, and he looks like he’s counting on his fingers.
“Eleven years. I’m eleven years older than you.” My gaze flicks to his hands, and he taps my nose with his finger. “I’m bad at math, don’t judge me!” I can’t help but laugh at him, even though it dries up quickly.
“Does that bother you?” My voice is surprisingly small. I don’t think I realized how much I want this to work. Even though it’s a bad idea, and there is no world in which I’m allowed to keep an Alpha like Emmanuel, the idea of this being over before it begins because of my age makes my chest hurt.
