Page 74 of Scheme
I don’t know why I expected better results from a sixteen-year-old. Chelsea was incredibly smart, but in a very academic way, and at the expense of almost everything else. Real life often got away from her.
Chelsea: Are you bringing that hot alpha from the festival to Nana’s party? Asher and I made a bet.
I snorted, some of the tension in my muscles easing. The little shits.
When Mum had announced her pregnancy with Jules and their intention to have another group of three kids close together, I could distinctly recall not being thrilled about the notion. Back then, as far as I was concerned, me, Layla and Calum were the perfect trio and the best of friends, how could they possibly want more?
But after everything that happened with Layla and the alpha that Calum had become, I was definitely glad for my three youngest now. They’d restored my faith in sibling relationships, and I’d have been a lot less happy with my lot in life without them.
Me: I’m not sure yet.
My face heated with long overdue embarrassment when I thought of Kit and I sitting in this kitchen, planning for me to stride into that party and announce that he was accompanying me into my nest for my heat.
There was stilllogicin that idea, of course. But my heart wasn’t in it. Even if Kit wasn’t suffering the effects of my heady slick, the concept of lying aboutthatwithhimspecifically wouldn’t be sitting well with me.
Aside from that, Nana’s party was the day after Kit’s awards night. While he didn’t strike me as the type to party hard, it was a big event for him, and who knew what kind of shape he’d be in the next day.
Like I’d summoned him with my thoughts, his name flashed on my phone screen.
Kit: I’m downstairs.
He was?
He wasn’t giving me much of a chance to rebuild my emotional walls after Brighton, that was for sure. Based on what he’d said on the beach, that was probably by design.
I jogged down to unlock the door, finding him in sweat-and-rain-soaked running clothes that did either terrible or wonderful things to my insides; the verdict was still out.
“Here,” he said, passing me a paper grocery back and leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek.
“What’s this?”
“Strawberries.”
Don’t cry, I told myself sternly, doing my best to give him a valiant smile while my insides cracked in two.
Kit would be such a good mate.
His brain may not know the theoretical aspects of how an alpha-omega relationship worked, but his instincts were steering him along just fine.
Kit had been hovering on the threshold like he wasn’t going to come in, but the moment I went to take the bag, his entire demeanour changed.
“What happened to your thumb?” he asked, crowding me in the entryway as he took a step forward, capturing my wrist.
“Just a scratch,” I replied hurriedly, attempting to take the bag off him again, though he pulled it back out of reach with an eyebrow raised.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“Sorry?” I thought about it for a moment. “No, I’m not really, I’m actually fine with being a terrible liar.”
“Margot,” Kit warned, giving me his most serious face. “Tell me what happened.”
“So bossy.” I tutted, not nearly as put off by that trait as I normally was. Kit’s brand of bossiness was annoyingly appealing. “You may as well come up—you look about one second away from throwing me over your shoulder.”
“I am,” he agreed, stepping into the entryway and pulling the door shut behind him.
Without the steady stream of fresh air, I let out a pained groan almost immediately. “This was a bad idea. Your sweat smellssogood, did you know that?”
Kit’s lips quirked as he rested a hand on my shoulder, gently turning me to face the stairs before giving me an encouraging pat on the ass. “I did know. Up you go.”
