Chapter 005
1087 Words
Chapter 005
James’ POV
I ought to have been asleep. I muttered that to myself as I surfed the telly’s dead air, volume muted, the screen’s glow dancing across the empty room. My eyes burned with fatigue, yet the mere suggestion of closing them pulled me straight back into that dream. His face lingered before my eyes, still tormenting me, the way his voice had echoed so close, so real.
I clicked the telly off. The silence struck me full in the chest.
A buzz on the table told me my phone was ringing. I let it lie.
Another buzz. After that, the phone rang full-blown.
I moaned and lifted the phone. Of course. Oliver.
What is it that you need? The tone that slipped out of me was sharper than I intended.
James, could you please come and get me? My car refuses to start. I’ve gotta get to the restaurant.”
A restaurant. His date. My stomach knotted.
“Hold on. So you want me to get up and rescue you because your battery died? So what about your date, the Alpha knight in shining armour? Why can’t he come and get you?
He’s not my Alpha, James. He’s merely my date. If I don’t leave now, I’ll miss it.”
Because I’m your Alpha. Yet you’ll never admit it.
“You’re genuinely serious?” I grumbled, massaging the bridge of my nose.
“Please? Is this one time?”
Damn him. He always managed to ease his voice, to convince me to capitulate.
“Fine. Ten minutes. I’ll change. But I'm dropping you off and that’s all.”
And for once, don’t arrive in just a pair of shorts and a vest. Dress properly.
“Yeah, yeah. Yet you’re still paying. The bill’s on you.
He gave a wan chuckle. “Fine. Hurry up.
I made no attempt to rush. In front of the mirror, I fastened and re-fastened the same shirt twice, not because I cared what I looked like but because I knew it would make him wait. When I pulled up to his flat, he was already pacing beneath the porch light.
He slid in, shut the door hard, and frowned. You’re late.”
You told me to dress up. Blame yourself. I smirked and turned over the engine.
“For the love of God, just drive.”
I’m certainly not forgetting that you owe me big time. I’m thinking steak, and perhaps oysters.
“James…” He groaned. You’re getting the impression this is some kind of rescue mission.
Aren’t we?
He averted his gaze to the window and mumbled something I couldn’t make out.
The roads lay hushed, orange lamps throwing shadows across the bonnet. I ought to have kept going straight, yet I flipped on the indicator and veered onto the earlier exit.
Oliver whipped his head around. What the hell are you doing? That’s not the way.
“I’m starving. You press-ganged me into being your chauffeur. The very least you can do is let me get myself a bite first.”
“James! You can’t simply—
“Relax. Ten minutes. You’re date can wait.”
He glared, but he still didn’t tell me to turn back. He merely folded his arms and pressed his lips tight.
I drew to a stop outside a chip shop, the neon sign humming softly. I stepped out, and once he’d lingered for a brief pause, he joined me.
You’re really irritating, you know that?” he grumbled as we entered.
Even so, you phoned me,” I retorted.
A haze of vinegar and fried batter enveloped us. I placed my order for cod and chips, lingering over it, tapping the card reader as though I had all the time in the world. Oliver shifted beside me, tugging at his watch over and over.
Once we were back in the car, I tore open the paper bag and crunched a chip. Fancy a chip?
“No.”
The best chips in London.”
James, just drive.
I crunched noisily, stretching the moment. You’re terribly edgy for someone headed to a fancy dinner.
He twisted toward me, the frustration in his tone unmistakable. “What’s the point of this?”
I ran my tongue across my salty fingertips. What are you on about?
“This! Protracting the process. You’re just going to be late.”
You asked me for a lift. I’m giving you one. Not my fault you don’t like the route I’m taking.”
No, that isn’t what I’m talking about.
So what are you saying? I fired back, my gaze locked on the road.
He gave no response. His silence was telling enough.
The light turned red. My thoughts careened over one another, a jumbled, knotted mess.
He’s clueless. Or he does, and he’s pretending. He chose me. Of everyone, it was me he called. Doesn’t that mean anything?
The light changed to green, and I floored the pedal unnecessarily.
If you arrive looking like this, you’re sure to drive your date away.
So whose fault is that, anyway?
“It’s my fault,” I conceded.
Oliver gave me a startled blink. At least you’re owning it.”
A hesitant smile curled my mouth. I rarely do.
Don’t get smug.
I let out a soft laugh, and the tension briefly fractured.
At last, the restaurant materialized before me, a wall of glass windows and warm lighting. I stopped the car without unlocking the doors at first.
“Alright,” I said, watching the building before me. Here’s where you’re getting out. Off you go to your big night.
Oliver’s hand stayed clasped around the seatbelt, yet he stayed unmoved. His tone turned softer. I can tell you loathe this, can’t I?
What, exactly, do you hate?
You know what.
I held his stare. For one heartbeat, I almost told him. They seared at the back of my throat, clawing to be let loose.
Rather, I pasted on a lopsided smile. “Go on. Don’t make him wait.
He hesitated. “James—”
“Go.”
The door closed with a bang that reverberated far beyond what it should have. He never once turned back as he stepped inside.
I stayed there, my knuckles clenching the steering wheel, a paper bag of chips growing cool beside me.
“It’s up to you, Oliver,” I told the empty car. It’s up to you.
Yet the tightness in my chest let me know that it was mine as well.
- Writer
