Page 133 of Alphas Like Us
I reassemble my flashlight in two seconds. I shine the bright beam onto the gustingcurtains.
If I stand up and go shift the curtains, it means I’ll need to peek out the window. And to peek out the window means there’s a good possibility paparazzi will snap a photo of me. Then I’ll draw hecklers to the area, and it’s been nice not hearing a bucket load of bullshit about me and Farrowtonight.
I listen for the noise again, but it’s quiet. So I check a missedtext.
Shouldn’t you be asleep by now? What’s keeping you up?–Farrow
Hisabsence.
Being alone with my ownhead.
My collarbone that refuses to heal at the speed oflightning.
All of theabove.
Just can’t sleep.I send that text. And then I think about the lube ad, and Iwonder…
I send him another message:I’m going to watchporn.
If he thinks it’s a bad idea, he’ll tell me. Maybe porn will exhaust me, and I can’t deny that ever since I started dating Farrow and he admitted to watching it, my curiosity haspiqued.
Maybe I’ll see porn in a new way now that I’m in a committed relationship. I don’t know. My brows furrow in heavycontemplation.
I text back:nevermind.
He’s callingme.
I knock my head back on the headboard.Fuck.Either I worried him or he’s pent-up now, and both options, I’m just feeling fan-fucking-tasticabout.
I put the call on speakerphone. “I’m not trying to interrupt you atwork—”
“You didn’t. Relax, wolf scout. I’m just charting in the on-call room.” Papers shuffle on his end. “You watching porn ornot?”
“I don’t know yet.” I open an internet browser on my phone. “What’s a goodsite?”
He pauses. “Maximoff.” Somehow, his husky voice contains his forever-widening smile. “I’d loveto watch it with you since it’s not something you do often, and I’m not saying this because I believe you shouldn’t do it alone. You can do it alone if you want, but it’d be more fun with me.” He adds, “Everything usually is. Even sleepapparently.”
I blink slowly. “Thank you for those unnecessaryadditions.”
“You’re welcome.” His voice fades with the shuffle ofpapers.
I think about experiencing this with him, and it’s more appealing. Maybe it’s what I really wanted all along. And I click into a “news headlines” tab on mybrowser.
Thwack.I swing myhead.
“What was that?” Farrowasks.
“A noise,” I say dryly. With the constant stream of hecklers, it’s been more difficult to secure the outside of the townhouse lately. Someone could be chucking something at my window from the street. But rocks and pebbles sound more likepingingagainstglass.
Whatever hits the window is heavier, but not enough to shatterthrough.
“Shit,” Farrow curses, and I hear papersscatter.
“They make you chart on paper?” I ask. “I thought they would’ve moved onto some space-aged technology. Like astral projections.” Looking at my phone, my brows knot at an article series, not onCelebrity Crushbut on its more reputable parent site and online magazine calledFamousNow.
I pause before clicking into the articles. Farrow lets out a vexed breath, his stress or maybe just frustration ekes over the line. He’s great at living inside hectic situations, but whenever he calls me at the hospital, I feel this wound-up tension inside Farrow that he normally never carriesaround.
He won’t say much about his shifts there, but sometimes I think it’s worse when I press about it. So I haven’t really dug inyet.
