Page 45 of Hot for Teacher
“Fuck, Chase,” Noah groaned, dodging a large, tasseled pillow. “Couldn’t you have just pretended?”
Chase was too busy climbing over the arm of the couch to crouch underneath it, allowing Spencer’s pillow missiles to fly overhead. Why did they have so many throw pillows anyway? They must have come with the couch his parents had bought.
Chase’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket to find a text from Killian.
Killian: Grading’s finally done. I’m scheduled for a massage this afternoon. It’s a standing monthly appointment. Apparently I carry quite a lot of tension in my shoulders.
Chase: I bet you do.
Killian: Come over afterward.
Chase: I have a dinner thing. It could take a while.
It took Killian longer to reply this time, and Chase bit at his lip. Fridays were supposed to be their night, but this dinner hadn’t exactly been a request he could refuse.
Killian: Sleep over, then.
Chase: Can I let you know after dinner?
Killian: Promptly.
Chase: Yes, Alpha.
Chase sighed, tucking this phone back in his pocket. He peeked around the front of the sofa to find Noah had Spencer in a headlock.
Chase grinned at the sight. It was almost enough to soothe the weird unease he couldn’t seem to shake. He should have just said yes to Killian and let the alpha fuck it out of his system, but he wasn’t sure what state he was going to be in by the time dinner was over.
Or why he felt so weird about Noah and Eli going public.
Maybe Chase had just spent too many days holed up in the house, eating leftover pizza and playing video games with Spencer.
Yeah, that was probably it. He’d get out of the house, get some fresh air, and he’d feel better. Because Chase was fine. And Noah and Eli going public was fine. And dinner with Chase’s parents was going to be … just fine.
Chase’s mothergreeted him outside the restaurant with a kiss to his cheek that was miles away from actually touching his skin. His father made do with a distracted nod in Chase’s general direction, more focused on the valet and his potential to scratch their car.
The two of them looked good. They always did. Money had a way of softening any harsh edges of aging, and Chase’s parents weren’t afraid to use that to their advantage. His mother’s hair was immaculately dyed and coiffed. His father was tanned and healthy-looking, trim as ever due to his regular appointments with a personal trainer.
“How are you, darling?” his mother asked Chase absently.
Before Chase could answer, she was already turning to his father. “Robert, forget the car. It’s a rental—who cares what happens to it? I’m famished.”
His father let out a grunt and wrapped an arm around his wife, ushering her inside. Chase followed behind them, wondering if they’d notice if he just ducked away and skipped the whole thing.
The restaurant was familiar, a place his parents had taken him to before. It was just their type—expensive but not too opulent, with well-cooked food that never bordered on too adventurous. So dinner was predictably delicious.
And predictably quiet.
After a few perfunctory questions—“Your grades are acceptable? No trouble with the house?”—his parents mostly talked between themselves, rehashing the business dinner from the night before. Chase’s father was apparently looking to expand into more Phoenix real estate, possibly something commercial.
There were no more questions directed to Chase. No queries about his roommates, his close friends of three years now. No follow-up about his life without lacrosse, a sport he’d played since he was a child. And not a single inquiry into his dating life, although Chase wouldn’t have been truthful if asked.
Chase had never figured out exactly what was wrong with him.
It had been this way since he was so young—it couldn’t possibly have been anything he’ddone, right? Sometimes he theorized that it was his beta designation that was the problem. His parents were a classic alpha-omega pair. Maybe they’d wanted a sweet omega to coddle, or a burly alpha to take over the family business. Maybe a beta was too much of a blank slate, and they didn’t have enough in themselves to fill him up with normal familial affection.
It didn’t much matter either way—it wasn’t like there was anything Chase could do about it—but it was a theory, anyway.
Chase ate his pasta politely and made interested noises when his parents remembered to direct a comment in his direction. Maybe hewasthe problem, with the way he just accepted the status quo. If he were Spencer, he’d be acting loud and obnoxious, just for the attention. If he were Noah, he’d probably be calling them out firmly for acting ice-cold with a son who’d never done anything to deserve it. Either way, he wouldn’t be sitting here, acting out the same old dynamics in the way they always did, again and again and again.
