Page 107 of Alphas Like Us
I’m not angry. Just numb, and I fall in line with Farrow. Able to open the door to the single bathroom first, and I slip inside. One out-of-order toilet stall, one urinal, and sharpie and pen is scribbled along the chipped maroonwalls.
Farrow locks the door behind us. We’re quiet. It’s calmerhere.
I touch the stinging burn, and I glance at the mirror. Skin is bright, bright red along my cheekbone, beneath my eye, and beside mytemple.
He snatches paper towels out of thedispenser.
“Welcome to my world,” I saydryly.
He glances back at me while he turns on the sink faucet. “I’ve been in your world, wolf scout.” He runs the paper towels beneath cold water, then wrings themout.
“But now you’re in it,in it,” I tellhim.
His brows rise, turned to me. “You know I love your fucked-up world. Because you’re ‘in it, in it’.” He uses air-quotes and then presses the cold towel to my cheek andtemple.
Our eyes caress for a second, and I breathe deeper.Better.
He shakes his head a couple times, his jaw tightening. “I should’ve been faster.” Meaning, he wishes he jumped out in front ofme.
“I’m glad you weren’t.” Because in that alternate universe, he’d be the one with the stingingpain.
He holds my gaze and then frowns at the burn, lifting the soaked paper towel that soothes my skin. “If your new bodyguard is as bad as that one, it’s going to fucking kill me every time I leaveyou.”
“They won’t be that bad.” My hand glides up his back muscles, and I replay what happened. “About what that guysaid—”
“I’m okay, wolf scout.” Farrow holds the wet paper towel to my face again. His perpetual confidence fortifies him and me together. Over and over and over. “You?”
“Yeah.” My hand reaches his neck, about to bring his mouth to mine—a knock pounds on the bathroom door. Our headsturn.
“I need to piss, dude! Hurryup!”
On top of that hollering, Farrow’s phone rings in his pocket. Without taking it out, he drops the call with oneclick.
And then he kisses me quickly. Like apeck.Not what I want, but he tells me, “Bepatient.”
“I don’t know that word,” I saysarcastically.
“Because I’m smarter than you.” Farrow soaks up my irritation like asponge.
I blink slowly. “Thank you for the bucket of lies. I needed those—” I cut myself off because his phone buzzes not once or twice. Repeatedly.Incessantly.
Notifications start pingingtoo.
We bothfrown.
Farrow digs back in his pocket and pulls out his phone. I stand beside him, and he flips the cellover.
Texts pop up, one after theother.
OMG FARROWWW– 993-555-4343
Fuck me good, baby– 876-555-2908
You and Maximoff are the cutest. Just wanted to tell you that. Xoxo– 404-555-3888
Hey asshole, Maximoff is a good guy. He deserves better.– 202-555-1010
Fuck you. He would have never cancelled the auction. You’re a horrible influence. I hope you die. –342-555-9876
