Page 16 of Alphas Like Us
I don’t knowwhy.
No one really does. Charlie wouldn’t say, and we’re still not friends. I have a couple texts from him that aren’t insults, and we haven’t thrown a punch since the FanCon. So there’s that progress. Really, though, I’m glad I know why he hates being around me. Even if it’s painful knowing that who I am hurtsCharlie.
I glance back at the entrance where Omega stands in a row. Through those double doors, Jane is consoling Luna in the lobby. My sister went eerily quiet after an old man won her, which led me on a tirade towards the eventorganizer.
I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t change it or make it better forher.
And I’m trying to be okay withthat.
It’s so damnhard.
I rub the back of my strained neck, musclestaut.
Farrow swivels a knob on his radio before he returns his hand to my neck. “Here. Let me.” But he doesn’t massage mymuscle.
Because Brunoapproaches.
Our arms fall off each other. Almost out of habit. We even add a couple inches of distance between us, side-by-side.
But the Alpha bodyguard can’t be here to reprimand us for touching. We’re allowed to touch publiclynow.
“Farrow,” Bruno says curtly, not acknowledging me as he comes to a stop. He extends a hand to Farrow, but not in a shake. His palm is out flat like he wantssomething.
“What’s going on?” I askBruno.
He looks at Farrow as he answers, “Farrow is off-duty tonight. I need his radio andgun.”
Farrow doesn’t flinch, and he’s already unclipping his radio from his belt. Before I advocate on his behalf, he tells me, “I chose this. It’sokay.”
My frown darkens. “You chose to go off-duty? In whatuniverse?”
He winds his earpiece cord around the radio. “The universe where my boyfriend wasgrabbed.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I lie. “I didn’t get grabbed.” Contesting Farrow is like word vomit at thispoint.
He gives me a pointed look while he takes his holstered gun out of his waistband. Discreet. None of the seated guests have a view of hishands.
Farrow tells me, “That’s cute that you keep pretending I can’t see.” His gaze descends my six-foot-two build in slow, agonizingdesire.
Christ.
Without tearing his gaze off me, he passes the gun and radio to Bruno. As the Alpha bodyguard steps back, giving me a wide space, Farrow whispers with a teasing smile, “Excited?”
“Opposite.” I swallowhard.
“You sound a littlechoked.”
I’m dying to be alone with him now, and I dig for the last of my bearings and say, “Fuckyou.”
“I think you meanfuck me,” he says matter-of-factly.
A growl scratches my lungs, and I eye his lips—the music falls silent. My head turns to the podium on stage beside the string quartet that has stoppedperforming.
An auctioneer in an Armani tux adjusts the microphone. “Hello.” His even-tempered voice booms. “And we’re back. I hope you all enjoyed that intermission and the excellent performance from Harmonious Strings.” Soft clapping. “Next up forWin aNight with aCelebrity…”
All humor dies in my chest as I hear the name of this eventagain.
It’s not sexual, the board has told me. As though my brain is hooked on sex—because my mom is a sex addict, maybe. I don’t know. I’m not fucking sure. But I can’t be the only one who thinks a night with someone means ahookup.
