Page 60 of One for the Money
He shrugs, taking another small sip of the coffee that is supposedly awful. “What else am I supposed to do? Dexter is being all dark and broody, and I don’t feel like being around that right now. Not that you’re much better, honestly.”
I roll my eyes and slump next to him on the small sofa. Our arms brush against one another, leaving little sparks where our skin touches.
“So, we’re going to be in a pack together,” Dario says quietly.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. She’d have to accept us first, and it doesn’t seem likely.”
I still can’t decide if I want her to or not. Yes, she’s my scent match, but this is all so fucking fast it makes my head spin. Plus, Alex isn’t exactly the most open person. Not that I blame her for holding back, but it’s hard to develop feelings for someone who keeps half of themself hidden.
“Regardless,” Dario barrels on, “if we end up in a pack together, maybe we can pick up where we left off?”
My fingers clench tightly around my mug. I should’ve expected him to bring this up.
Two years ago, Dario was hurt during his act. Nothing major, but he was out of commission for about a week as his sprain healed. During that time, Dexter did a solo act, and Dario bugged the fuck out of me in my trailer, much like he’s doing now.
After three days of listening to his nonstop prattle about God knows what, I shut him up with my mouth in a move that surprised even me. It’s not like I’m a particularly sexual person. I hardly ever bring people back to my trailer. The few times I have, it was almost mechanical. I don’t seek out physical affection.
But kissing Dario was like standing in front of a hose at full blast, and it swept us both away. The chemistry was incredible, but the risk of things going wrong was too high to let it continue for more than a few days.
If we allowed feelings to develop, it could fuck up the delicate balance within the circus.
When his sprain was healed, our relationship was over, and we never discussed it again.
Until now.
“I’m just saying,” Dario barrels on when I don’t respond, “if an Omega is tying us together forever, it’s not like it’ll affect the circus like you were concerned about before.”
I can’t look at him. I’ve not had many relationships over the years, and what I did have could hardly be classified as a relationship—more like dalliances. I haven’t had the desire to put in any effort for more.
But the air in my trailer is thick with potential between the two of us.
“Yeah,” I finally say, looking up at the ceiling. “I think maybe we could.”
“Move a little to the left,”Travis, one of our lighting crew, shouts. “You’re slightly off your mark.”
Dress rehearsal for tonight’s show feels pointless. It’s the same show, different city, but since it’s our first show here after two days off, it’s worth it to go through the motions.
Luckily, Quinton had his health scare on an off night. But still no sign of Alex.
I thought certainly I’d see her this evening, after the shock wore off and she got some sleep. But nope, it’s been almost two days and she’s still nowhere to be found.
“Stage left,” Chet shouts, pointing in the other direction. “Where’s your head at, bossman?”
The two Alphas have been with me for years, starting as standard stagehands, just doing the setup and break down of things, and then eventually moving up to more prestigious positions in the crew.
“Just got a lot going on,” I answer, and move to the correct mark. We walk through the lighting cues for my portion of the show, and they get me mic’d up before telling me to send Q and Matteo in for their run-through.
I find the two sitting on the ground outside of Alex’s trailer.
“You’re up,” I tell them. “Chet and Travis are ready to check your marks.”
Quinton waves me off lazily before stubbing his joint out in the grass. “We don’t need a rehearsal.”
“Everyone has to do it,” I remind him.
He shrugs and turns to look at me. His eyes are barely bloodshot, and there isn’t much skunk stench clinging to him. Matteo notices my perusal.
“Yeah, that’s his first one of the day.”
