Becoming Luna: My Triplet Alphas

Chapter 2: The Librarian from Hell

When I glanced at the time as I exited my shower, my heart nearly leaped out of my chest. 9:17. s**t! Normally, I prided myself on my ability to manage time—to be punctual, if not early. But today, time had slipped through my fingers like water, leaving me scrambling.

Quickly, I grabbed a towel and locked my damp blonde curls into it, silently praying it wouldn’t make them frizz too much. I toweled off the rest of my body with frantic movements, my heart pounding in sync with the urgency of the moment. Wrapping the towel around me, I hurried out of the bathroom, water droplets still trailing down my skin.

Just as I was about to step into my bedroom, the intercom buzzed sharply, slicing through the air. The sound startled me so much that I let out an audible groan.

“God dang it!” I muttered under my breath, spinning around and darting toward the door phone. “Of course, he’s not just on time; he’s early too.” Pressing the intercom button, I tried to sound composed despite my racing heartbeat. “Yes?”

“Stella,” came his voice, slightly distorted by the static of the speaker. The low rumble of his tone was unmistakable. “It’s Jaxon.”

I winced internally. “Come on up,” I replied, attempting to sound cheerful. “I’m almost ready.” Hastily, I pressed the buzzer to unlock the door downstairs before unlocking my apartment door to let him in.

By the time I dashed back into my bedroom, I was still only clad in my soft cotton towel. My hair was partially damp, clinging to my shoulders as I grabbed a comb and began the futile process of detangling it.

“Stella?” I heard his voice echo faintly from the living room. The sound of the door closing behind him made my stomach flip. I hoped to God I hadn’t left too much of a mess lying around.

“In here!” I called out, fumbling with the comb as it snagged on a particularly stubborn knot. “Just give me a few seconds!” My voice carried a mixture of apology and exasperation.

The comb finally slipped through my hair, and I used my fingers to fluff it out, feeling somewhat triumphant. Thankfully, I had washed my hair first, so it was only damp by now rather than dripping wet.

“No need to hurry,” he called back, his tone light and teasing. “Technically, you still have eight minutes.”

The playfulness in his voice brought a small smile to my face and calmed the frantic beat of my heart.

“I swear, I’m usually on time,” I said as I strode to my closet. I’d hung my dress on the cabinet door earlier, ready to go. “Actually, I’m almost always early.”

As I passed my bed, a sharp pain shot through my foot. “Son of a—” I hissed, clutching my pinky toe, which had just collided with the corner of the bed frame. The pain was sharp and immediate, like an explosion radiating through my foot.

“You okay in there?” His voice carried a note of concern.

“I’m fine,” I called back, biting my lip to keep from cursing again. Hobbling slightly, I reached for the dress and the delicate white lace lingerie I’d set aside. Even though Jaxon wouldn’t see it, knowing I was wearing something beautiful made me feel a little more confident.

“Where are we going?” I asked through the door, hoping to distract myself from the lingering sting in my toe.

“A place called Stuart’s. Have you heard of it?”

I had, and the thought made me smile. Stuart’s was easily the best brunch spot in town—upscale enough to feel special but not so fancy that it would feel stuffy. It was, in short, the perfect choice for a first date.

“I love that place,” I said, my voice bright. I hoped he could hear the smile in my words as I slipped into the green dress, wrapping its soft fabric around me and tying the strings neatly on my left hip. The dress was simple yet flattering, cinching at the waist and skimming my figure in just the right way.

After a quick glance in the mirror, I darted to my vanity. Thank goodness I was the kind of girl who kept her brows tidy and her lashes lifted and tinted. All I needed was a quick swipe of lip gloss to pull everything together.

“That’s great,” Jaxon said from the other side of the door. “I’ve never been.”

“You won’t regret it,” I replied, carefully choosing a pair of earrings—small silver hoops with dangling pearls that caught the light when I moved. Next, I slipped on a matching bracelet, a delicate chain with a few strategically placed pearls.

I adjusted the placeholders for my necklaces before fastening them. The three strands settled perfectly around my neck: the shortest a simple twisted chain, the middle matching the pearls in my earrings and bracelet, and the longest a dainty plaque engraved with an S.

“How am I doing on time?” I asked, casting a quick glance at the clock on my nightstand.

“Four minutes,” he answered. His tone was light, almost amused, and it made me laugh softly.

I took one last look at my reflection in the mirror. My sky-blue eyes stared back at me, bright and alert, and my outfit looked surprisingly well put together for such a rushed morning.

Before stepping out of the bedroom, I grabbed my nude heels. The low height made them practical, but they still added a touch of elegance to my look. After slipping them on, I smoothed the hem of my dress and opened the door to the living room.

And there he was.

Jaxon stood in the middle of the room, his gaze fixed on me. In the daylight streaming through the windows, he looked even more striking. His short beard was perfectly groomed, framing his strong jawline. His caramel-brown eyes were warm, their depths filled with an intensity that made my breath hitch.

He wore a crisp blue polo shirt with an understated yet expensive-looking logo embroidered on the chest. The fabric hugged his broad shoulders and chest before falling smoothly over his torso. It was tucked neatly into tailored black trousers, which somehow managed to look both refined and comfortable. The way they fit him made it clear—this man was pure muscle.

“Hi,” I managed to say, my voice almost a whisper. I felt the word escape me more than I spoke it.

“You look incredible,” he said, his voice low and sincere. His eyes traveled over me, not with the leering gaze I was used to fending off, but with genuine admiration, as though I was the only thing in the room worth looking at.

I noticed the bouquet in his hands and couldn’t help but smile. “You brought flowers,” I said, my tone soft with surprise.

“Yes.” He blinked, as though snapping out of a trance. “I didn’t know what you preferred, so—”

“They’re beautiful,” I interrupted gently. “Thank you.”

The bouquet was stunning—a wild assortment of colorful blooms in shades of purple, yellow, red, and blue. It was vibrant and unstructured, a perfect representation of natural beauty.

“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling warmly.

As I walked past him to the kitchen, I let my nose dip into the bouquet. The flowers smelled as lovely as they looked, their fragrance light and sweet. I carefully set them on the counter before opening a cupboard to retrieve a vase. The shelf was a jumble of odds and ends—a toaster I rarely used, a large serving bowl, a roll of duct tape—but I managed to find the vase tucked in the back.

“I hope this doesn’t count as my getting ready time, because then I’m officially late,” I said with a grin, pulling down the vase from the shelf. The corners of my lips lifted further as I caught his amused expression.

“Nonsense,” Jaxon replied, his smile easy and disarming. “You were right on time.”

I turned toward the sink, filling the vase with lukewarm water. The faint hum of the tap added to the soft atmosphere of the room. I peeled back the brown paper from the bouquet, revealing the vibrant blooms inside. Their colors seemed even more striking up close—purples, yellows, blues, and reds mingling in a wild and beautiful arrangement.

“You really didn’t have to bring me flowers,” I said softly, glancing at him over my shoulder as I arranged the bouquet in the vase.

“Of course I did,” he said with a playful tilt of his head. “My mother raised me right.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I carried the vase into the living room and placed it on the coffee table. “To be a gentleman?” I teased, stepping back to admire how the flowers added a touch of warmth to the space.

“Exactly,” he replied with a grin. “If she knew I came here without flowers, I’d be disowned.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” I laughed, shaking my head.

“Definitely not,” he said, his voice laced with humor. His gaze shifted, taking in the details of my apartment. “It’s a nice place,” he said after a moment, his tone genuine.

“Thank you,” I replied, following his eyes as they roamed. “It’s not much, but I like it.”

My apartment wasn’t large, but it had everything I needed. The small entryway held a simple coat rack and a compact shoe rack, both of which often overflowed with my things. The space opened into a modest kitchen with clean lines and a cozy charm. A small dining table with four chairs sat tucked into one corner, and the living area featured a two-person couch positioned opposite the TV, with a round coffee table anchoring the space. My favorite reading chair stood nearby, its cushions soft and well-worn. The room was filled with little touches of me, from the warm-toned throw blankets to the plants perched on the windowsills.

“You have a lot of books,” Jaxon remarked, nodding toward the bookshelves lining the wall opposite the TV.

I smiled, folding my arms loosely across my chest. “Yeah,” I said, glancing at the shelves fondly. “That’s not even all of them.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. “It’s not?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity. He stepped closer to the shelves, his broad shoulders blocking part of the view as he inspected their contents.

I walked over to stand beside him, the light floral scent of the bouquet following me. “I have more under my bed and a few boxes stored at my parents’ house,” I admitted, my fingers brushing against the edges of the spines.

“You’ve got a system, don’t you?” he asked, glancing down at me with an amused smile. Even in my heels, I had to tilt my head slightly to meet his gaze.

“I do,” I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “This shelf is for series,” I explained, pointing to the leftmost bookcase. “They’re arranged by author. Then there’s the fantasy section.” I gestured to the next shelf. “That one’s more for aesthetics than an actual system—I like organizing by color, but it still has to be functional.”

A faint blush crept into my cheeks as I continued. “This one’s for romance,” I said, indicating another shelf. “They don’t really have subgenres, but they’re good enough to earn a spot here. And the last one…” I hesitated, feeling my cheeks warm even more. “That one’s for reverse harem, dark romance, alternate reality kinds of stories.”

“Shouldn’t that go in the fantasy section?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

I shook my head with a small laugh. “Not exactly. Fantasy is more like Harry Potter or Narnia—worlds with magic or creatures. This,” I said, gesturing to the shelf, “is more like mafia bosses, kings and queens, that sort of thing.”

He nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Makes sense.”

“Does it?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because sometimes it doesn’t even make sense to me.”

“Yes,” he said, grinning. “If it works for you and you know where everything is, then it makes perfect sense.”

I laughed, turning my gaze back to the shelves. “My sister calls me the Librarian from Hell,” I admitted with a sheepish smile.

He chuckled, a deep and genuine sound. “That’s quite the nickname.”

“Totally justified, though,” I said with a mock-serious nod. “I don’t like it when people mess up my system.”

He glanced at his watch—a sleek and understated timepiece that somehow suited him perfectly. “We should probably get going if we want to make the reservation,” he said, his tone light.

“Yes, of course.” I grabbed my brown leather purse from the couch, tossing in my wallet, phone, lip gloss, and a small packet of tissues—because you just never know. I picked up my keys and turned toward him with a smile. “Good to go.”

Before I could reach for the door, Jaxon stepped forward, his large hand brushing past mine as he opened it for me. The heat rose to my cheeks as I glanced up at him, murmuring a quiet thank you before stepping through. He followed, closing the door behind him, and the automatic lock clicked softly into place.

“I’ve been to Stuart’s for brunch before,” I said as we made our way down the stairs. My focus was on each step, determined not to trip in my heels. “The food’s amazing. I love that it’s buffet-style—you can grab as much bacon as you want without having to explain yourself to a waiter.”

“I like bacon,” he said, his voice carrying that soothing, low rumble. I could hear the smile in his words.

At the bottom of the stairs, I reached for the handle of the outside door, but once again, Jaxon was there first. He pushed it open, his hand lightly resting on my back as he guided me forward.

Parked at the curb was a sleek black SUV that looked freshly polished, its dark glass reflecting the sunlight. It beeped as Jaxon unlocked it with a press of a button, the sound sharp in the quiet morning air.

The streets were alive with the hum of life. Dogs tugged their owners along, strollers rolled over the pavement, and laughter spilled from a group of friends sitting on a stoop, sipping coffee.

Jaxon opened the passenger door and extended a hand to help me climb in. His touch was warm and steady, and I couldn’t help but smile as I settled into the plush seat. He closed the door gently before walking around to the driver’s side.

As he slid into the seat beside me, I realized something with a soft chuckle. In Jaxon’s company, I might not have to open another door all day.