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

Chapter 9

I couldn't believe I was actually at Rao's with a fucking reservation. I knew the Summers name was a big deal, but it hadn't really occurred to me that his world would intersect with things that I was interested in, but here we were, standing outside of a crossroads. I'd pretended not to notice that Kyle was definitely walking close enough to stake a claim, but it was pretty much impossible as soon as we entered the small, old-fashioned dining room and Mr. Pellegrino rushed over and blindsided us with, "Kyle! I haven't seen you since your birthday, how was your first pro season? Oh my, are you bringing your mate to say hello to the old man who likes to talk too much?"

I stood still, unsure of how to react, wondering if Kyle would have the balls to tell someone close to his pack about his embarrassment of a mate. "Yeah, I figured you'd be able to help me out with impressing him. If there's one thing you can do, Frank, it's an impressive meal." Kyle didn't miss a beat in boldly claiming me, declaring in a voice loud enough for the bar's occupants to get a good look and realize there was Kyle Summers, the WFL's most eligible bachelor, with an unattractive, short, and very much human male.

"A first date? I'm honored," Mr. Pellegrino grinned and motioned to one of the booths. "I'll do a little more of the talking next time then - but it's only a one time deal. I look forward to a thorough introduction next time you visit."

As I slid into the booth, I heard Kyle mutter, "I'd like to know his name, too", just quiet enough that Mr. Pellegrino couldn't quite make it out.

"You know, I don't think you really need to earn my name," I rolled my eyes at Kyle.

"I just feel like I should have thought of that when I rejected you before I even caught your name. I feel like such a massive douchebag, and I can't believe I needed to fuck things up with my literal perfect-partner & other-half to realize how stupid I was being." Kyle stopped himself, and collected himself for a moment, and tried again. "Let's not start there. I just..." He trailed off exhaled heavily, and for a moment I could see through his eyes and find nothing but a scared puppy.

Feeling the need to reassure him somehow, I blurted out my feelings. "I wouldn't want me as a mate either."

Kyle's eyes flashed with something primal and murderous, and I felt his low growl rumble through me, sending prickles running up my spine and making the hair on my arms stand. "No! Fuck, that's exactly it, I want you as a mate. Even when I was laughing, it was because I didn't know how else to hide that your green apple flavored summer day scent was so mind blowing I couldn't think straight. Do you think I couldn't tell that you weren't a girl? I'm a fucking werewolf, I knew from nearly a block away you were a guy but I couldn't even think straight cause you smell so good! The way you bobbed your head as if you were dancing to your own walking rhythm was so distracting I couldn't come up with something to preserve my bravado that made any sense at all! I spun you around because I needed to see your face, and I laughed at you because my shitty line pretending to think you were a girl was so awe-inspiringly awful I thought you would see right through it unless I distracted you. And my distraction was to cause you as much pain as possible, because I'm a fucking asshole." Kyle stopped, and calmed down a little, the glowing crimson fading slightly from his eyes, replaced by something much more somber.

"When I was a pup, my third grade teacher's name was Mrs. Dunn. Mrs. Dunn was a real hateful bitch, but the worst thing she ever did to me was the poems. For our poetry project, I wrote a poem to my future mate. I don't remember jack about it, but I do remember what she told me - that I'd better stop looking forward to a male mate if I wanted to be a real alpha. I never quite got it out of my head - I've always been so fucking insecure. I haven't always acted like some manufactured testosterone product, but I just kept convincing myself from the darkest corners of my mind that I have to be like that."

Kyle's eyes seemed to get a little blurry, and his voice quavered with emotion, right on the edge of a crack. "Everyone always thinks it's so easy when you're a hotshot offensive line alpha - but they forget about all the expectations they have of someone like me. I feel incredibly small on the inside, because I've never seen myself the way other people see me. I want to be who they think I am, and I tried to kill parts of myself to keep an image intact. I'm not good at being "Offensive Lineman Kyle Summers". It's not who I am or how I feel but I keep scaring myself shitless by imagining the people close to me reacting the way the ugliest parts of society do. By the way, I really hope you don't think my pack raised me like this - I got slapped, screamed at, and borderline disowned because they aren't like that at all. I think they did it because they thought it would finally get me to contrast real world reactions with the reactions my insecurity makes me believe. I guess it worked, because now I'm sitting here on my first date about to burst into tears like the insecure idiot I actually am because I put a permanent scar on my other half. We could go on to have a euphoric relationship for the next five hundred years and you'll still never forget having me spin you around to laugh in your face."

Ugly tears poured over Kyle's cheeks and fell softly onto the table as he continued, "I know I can't just wave a magic wand and fix things, and I know I am in no way of deserving of this because I have done nothing to make it up to you, but I swear I'm done lying to myself and anyone else. If you're willing to loan me a fresh start that I have in no way earned, I will spend the rest of my life repaying you with interest."

I found myself staring at a sobbing three hundred and eighty-five pound offensive lineman, and for the first time in my life I realized how small six foot eleven can be. Sobs racked Kyle's body, gargantuan muscles hiccuping with spasms as he buried his face in his hands. Tears were soaking the sleeves of his Tuxedo, and slowly pooling into a small puddle on the table. I hadn't ever witnessed someone else feeling this much utter sorrow before, not for as long as I could remember. As I reached my hand out, I could only think about his words - how small we both felt, and how we dealt with it in equally unhealthy ways.

"Nice to meet you Kyle, my name's Joshua."