bittersweet green apples, rejection, and the mediocre life of a human

Chapter 8

As soon as his presence returned to the lobby, my thoughts quickly turned away from all the students who'd caught the rawest angle of me I'd ever shown, public or private. I was so nervous about the snapchat videos that would no doubt have tens of thousands of hits by the time we finished dinner, and on the entertainment and sports news in time for prime time tonight. I jousted with those thoughts in my head, reminding myself of what happened last time I had wrapped myself so tightly in how I thought people would react that I'd nearly strangled my connection to my pack and teammates. Finally, I ripped my head away from both my insecurity and speculation and allowed myself the kind of thoughts I really wanted - that it didn't much matter what anyone thought, if I had the person who completed me so well, he'd unearthed a side of me I'd tried to drop down a well - without a single word on his part.

I'd even succeeded in pinning the scarlet Wolfsblossom I'd brought to my lapel, without pricking myself on the pin or my nerves. I could do this. Especially when he stepped through the turnstile toward me and I caught a whiff of that glorious green apple flavored summer day that he came smothered in. Even without the scent, I could begin to feel his soul when we were this close, and it charged our bond with a faint spark of pure bliss and made the air in the room fizzle with positivity. His eyes remained empyreal, a ginger-hazel ring shooting off into a collection of blues to rival any case of sapphires I've ever seen. I forced myself not to blush when my thoughts turned to how well his small frame would fit against me, encased by me, protected by me.

I knew I had to save those thoughts for later, because now was the time for me to earn them. Leading him toward the parking garage I'd chosen, I might have walked just a smidge closer than a friend would, but he seemed to enjoy the slightly protective gesture, especially on the busy Manhattan sidewalk where no one seemed to care about running into someone of his size, but parted around me like the red sea. After handing the valet a twenty and my tag, I turned back to my little mate and implored my true feelings. "I want to start over and do this right, but I'm not naive enough to think you can just magic a reset button out of thin air, so I don't want you to even tell me your name until we sit down to dinner and I tell you about my feelings and earn a second chance. I don't deserve it right now, and I don't think you should give it to me."

His mouth fell open, and words of amazement started to form, but then departed as his mouth dropped further when the angled planes of cherry colored metal of my car came around the corner. "You can't actually be serious," he started to mutter, but trailed off after remembering his tact. I snickered, but I was sort of embarrassed behind it - I'd tried to convince myself I wanted a car as fast as I was, but really my insecurity demanded that I drive something that would make me seem as manly as I wanted to feel. I didn't actually know jack about cars, nor care to. He kept seeing straight through the ornate illusion I'd constructed and seemed to understand me better than anyone I'd ever purposefully allowed to see past.

Remembering my own tact, I slid the passenger side door upward the way the overblown vehicle demanded, and offered him a hand to help him in, but he seemed content to clamber in without me, albeit offering a quick word of thanks. I got in and tried to collect my thoughts and feelings as they sluiced down the intricate workings of my mind. At the same time, I was bravely blowing holes in the barriers I'd been working on for longer than I could fully recall. The silence in the car wasn't uncomfortable so much as full of promise, hope, and a tinge of wonder, like he couldn't really understand how I'd come back this different. Heading far uptown, I felt like I finally understood myself enough to try to explain it to someone else, which wasn't something I could have said a week ago.

I'd hoped he would know something about dinner, but I could feel the wave of excited joy when he'd realized just where we were headed, confirming my suspicions. Rao's didn't look like much, it wasn't famous for glamor like any restaurant he'd probably been expecting based on my car; Rao's was famous only for the food. The Summers pack has a weekly table there on Saturdays - no one in our pack would want to throw ice on my sudden change of heart, and no one had planned on using it anyway. I'm sure that two pack couples probably would have double-dated our booth to good use, but the pack had been ecstatic when I'd inevitably been spotted leaving in a tux with the scent of a fresh Wolfsblossom trailing behind me like a confession.

"You know, there's no guarantee Mr. Pellegrino gives us the house table, but I've always sort of wanted to try," my mate states, clearly surprised at what he thought was quite a gamble of a first date. The thoughtful line of my lips widened into the beginnings of a smile, and I felt a small twinge of pride as my wolf preened with the ability to provide my mate with something he wanted.

"The pack has a weekly booth on Saturdays." My voice practically beamed with pride talking about some of the perks our pack possessed, and more importantly, I would be able to provide for my mate. Surprise flashed across his face but it's only an instant before it was replaced with a mildly miffed expression that nearly said out loud, 'I should have expected that.' After I settled my conspicuous sportscar between a 1998 Minivan and a SmartCar, just a half a block down from Rao's, hilariously out of place on the nondescript Harlem street, I quickly told my mate to let me get his door before I hurried around to the passenger side to follow through.

Maybe it was because the curb made it awkward to get out onto the street in combination with my car's low frame, making it difficult to exit up onto the sidewalk directly, but when I offered a hand to help him up, he took it.