Page 29 of The Knotheads Next Door
Before I can make an excuse, he's already rinsing his plate and grabbing his keys. I swallow my unease and follow him, careful to maintain a bubble of personal space.
Outside, the morning air is crisp and cool, a welcome relief after my overheated night. Theo walks beside me down the porch steps, his usual easy demeanor making it hard to keep my distance without seeming rude.
"Everything okay?" he asks as we reach his car. "You seem a little... off today."
"Fine," I say quickly. "Just tired. Gerald had me up a few times."
Theo studies me, his expression concerned.
"You know, if something's bothering you, you can talk to me. Or any of us. Despite Jasper's grumpy exterior and Wells's robot impression, they're both decent listeners."
I force a smile. "Thanks, but really, I'm good. Just adjusting to everything."
He hesitates, then steps closer. "Rowan, about your scent—"
I take an instinctive step back. "What about it?"
"It's... changing," he says carefully. "I notice these things, I-” he breaks off his sentence. His hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, as his face flushes with color.
“I’ve always had a sensitive nose.I can usually pick up on scent markers, physiological changes, more than most people.It's okay if you're experiencing shifts in your presentation status. It's natural."
Panic bubbles up in my chest. "I'm not," I insist. "It's just stress, and maybe different soap, and—"
"Rowan," he interrupts gently, reaching for my arm.
I flinch away before he can touch me, terrified of how my body might react. But the movement brings me against the side of his car, and suddenly he's closer than I intended, his alpha scent wrapping around me like a warm blanket. My body betrays me with an immediate response—a rush of warmth, a loosening in my muscles, an impulse to lean into him that's so strong I have to dig my nails into my palms to resist.
"I should go," I say, my voice sounding strange even to my own ears. "I'll be late."
A flash of something—hurt? confusion?—crosses his face, but he steps back, giving me space. "Sure. Have a good day."
I practically run to my car, my heart hammering. That was close. Too close. I need to be more careful.
At the flower shop, Crystal takes one look at me and raises an eyebrow.
"You look like you're running from something."
"Just super eager to learn about wedding consultations," I lie, hanging up my jacket and reaching for my apron.
She doesn't push for answers, just nods toward the back room. "Coffee first. You look like you need it."
By lunchtime, I've managed to focus enough on work to temporarily forget my biological betrayal. Crystal is a patient teacher, and arranging flowers is surprisingly soothing—something about the methodical process of selecting blooms, trimming stems, balancing colors and textures.
"We're kidnapping Rowan for lunch!" Lala announces, bursting into the shop with Avianna and Billie in tow. She's carrying a picnic basket that smells heavenly. "Don't worry, we'll bring her back mostly intact."
Crystal waves us off without argument. "Take her. She's been staring at the same rose for five minutes."
"I was contemplating its aesthetic contribution to the arrangement," I protest weakly.
"You were zoning out," Crystal corrects. "Go. Eat. Come back when your brain comes back online."
The four of us settle on a picnic table in the town square, under a massive oak tree just beginning to leaf out. Lala unpacks the basket—sandwiches, salad, and what appear to be mini pies, all homemade.
Avianna wrinkles her nose at two of the packaged sandwiches. “If y’all love me, you put the tuna sandwiches back in the basket. The smell makes me wanna hurl.”
“You feeling nauseous babe?” Billie digs in her bag for a minute, then smiles triumphantly when she finds what she’s looking for.
“Here are some ginger chews, they always help me when I'm sick.”
