Page 3 of Rebound My Alpha
My pulse hammers a frantic beat against my throat, and my traitorous body does a low, heavy swoop in my gut. I ignore it. My hands are not shaking. They aren't.
“What?” Shay leans over. “What are you looking at? You went weird.”
“Nothing.” My voice comes out flat. Good.
Soren goes completely still on the other end of the couch.
“Benji.” Shay grabs the edge of my phone and tilts the screen toward him. A beat of silence. Then his whole face goes sharp. “Is that—”
My thumb moves before my brain can stop it. One flick to the right. Done.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Shay barks.
“It’s spite,” I snap. “It’s a spite swipe.”
“Benji—”
The screen lights up.It’s a Match!Animated fireworks. A tiny, stupid confetti explosion.
Instant. He matched me instantly. Which means his profile was already set to match mine. Which means he’s been—
I don’t finish the thought.
“I’m going to kill him,” Shay says, and he means it the way Shay means everything—practically, like he’s already planning the logistics.
Soren hasn’t said a word. He’s just looking at me with those quiet eyes that see way too much. I can feel him clocking every single thing I’m pretending isn't happening.
“It’s nothing,” I say. I toss my phone on the coffee table. “It doesn’t mean anything. I’m going to unmatch him in the morning.”
“You should unmatch him now,” Shay says.
“In the morning.”
Shay opens his mouth, then closes it. He looks at Soren, who gives the tiniest shake of his head. The room settles into a heavy silence.
I grab the remote and turn on the TV. Something loud and stupid, I don’t care what. I go back to my sketchpad. The pencil moves across the paper, but I’m not drawing the Deadfall logo anymore. I’m drawing nothing. Just lines. Just my hand needing something to do besides pick up that phone.
The phone vibrates against the wood. A DM notification. Knox’s username glows in the dark.
I don’t look at it.
I press my pencil harder into the paper, staring blindly at the TV, and feel the buzz all the way down to my teeth.
Knox
The guy in my chair won't shut the fuck up about his ex. Which is fine—I don't need him to be quiet, I just need him to hold his goddamn shoulder still every time he gets to the part where she keyed his car.
"And then she had the NERVE to—"
"Hey." I press the machine a little firmer. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind him there's a needle in his skin. "Need this shoulder still for about ten more minutes."
He goes rigid. Not ideal, but at least the canvas isn't bouncing around anymore. I finish the last line of the tribal piece he picked off the wall—his choice, not mine. I stopped trying to talk walk-ins out of tribal years ago. I lean back to check the work. Clean lines, good shading. It's always clean. That's not ego, it's just the thing I'm best at—putting something permanent on skin and making it look like it was always supposed to be there. Mars trained that into me with the patience of a man who'd rather die than give a compliment, and it stuck.
"All done." I wipe the area down, wrap it, and run through the aftercare on autopilot. Fragrance-free soap, don't scratch, keepit out of the sun. He's already composing the next chapter of the ex-girlfriend saga, so I hand him the printed sheet and wish him luck.
The shop's winding down. Last client out the door. Mars is at the counter going through the supply order with the kind of quiet focus that means something's pissing him off. Probably needle prices again. I strip my gloves, toss them, and start breaking down my station. Spray, wipe, bag the tubes, run the ultrasonic. It's Friday night, I have no plans, and I'm thinking about getting laid the same way I think about what to eat for dinner. It’s just the next logical step.
I wipe down the chair, and my brain throws up a memory I didn't ask for. An omega. Months ago. Dark hair, freckles across his nose, a mouth that could strip the finish off a bar. The sex was... yeah. I left before he woke up. I had my reasons, they’re still good reasons, and it’s done. I wipe the vinyl again and move on. That's all the thought gets.
