Adrian was having a shitty fucking time. They’d gone back to their usual routine at the cafe, which meant Adrian had his weekends back—but it also meant he had to find things to do with that time on the weekend. Even thought all he could think about was Bently, and the night before, and their breathless conversation on the phone. 

He couldn’t believe he had done that.

So, when his friends hit him up to see if he wanted to go to the club, he’d said sure. He thought it would get his mind off of things—like how the voice changer warped breathless moans, and how he had spent hours standing under cold water after to prevent his rut from sneaking up on him early. Instead, he was sitting at the booth they’d procured, nursing a sub-par cheap beer, hating his life while Winter, Lilly, and Dahlia tore up the dance floor. 

He felt odd messaging Bently after the night they shared. He knew he shouldn’t, but he was scared he had taken things too far. Bently hadn’t even been present for his pheromones to mess with Adrian’s head, so he couldn’t even use that excuse. Just hearing those breathless moans had been enough. And what did that make Adrian? When he knew he was meant for another?

But Bently hadn’t seemed put off by that information, either. He’d taken it in stride—in fact, he almost seemed relieved, sometimes. Adrian didn’t know what to think about that. He knew that Bently wasn’t looking for anything real—that he was just lonely, like Adrian was, and wanted simple companionship. 

But Adrian was starting to want something different. Something he wasn’t sure Bently was willing to give him. 

And what did that make Adrian? A liar? A creep? He didn’t even know Bently’s real name. 

Adrian caught a flash of long, white braids and dark skin as Dahlia slipped back into the booth, fanning her face a little. She’d been making the switch to protective hairstyles from her usual battle with the straightening iron, and it was working for her. “Are you going to tell us what’s going on, or do you just want to pout?”

Adrian shifted on his seat, picking at a loose thread on the chair. “Am I being that obvious?” 

“It’s painful, I’m not gonna lie.” Dahlia pulled her braids over to one side and folded her arms on the table. “You don’t have to talk to me about it, but it might help.” 

Adrian breathed out a breath heavy with the alcohol he had been drinking. He spun his glass on the table, clicking his tongue quietly in the wake of the pounding dance music. He didn’t want to have to shout across the way to Dahlia about his late-night tryst with an internet rando, so he stood up, walked over to her side of the booth, and plopped down. Dahlia rushed to scoot over and make room. 

“I’m catching feelings.” The words fell like bombs from his mouth. He didn’t want to admit he liked Bently, but he knew he did. It was almost painful, tying him up in knots, knowing his heart was acting wildly out of character. 

Dahlia raised an eyebrow. “Feelings? For who?” 

Adrian opened his mouth to answer, but his body pulled like a compass to another presence in the room. A group of three who had just walked in, all dressed to the nines. One of them looked wildly out of place—but that may have been because Adrian had never known Callum to go to somewhere so noisy, and with so many flashing lights. 

Callum was dressed in a sleek, expensive olive-toned shirt and tight, ripped jeans paired with Oxfords. His wristwatch caught the light, leading Adrian right to Callum. Like always. Adrian gulped, and—unfortunately for him—Dahlia followed his line of sight. 

“For Callum Bruin? Adrian!” 

“What?” Adrian snapped his attention to his friend, denying it instantly. “No, not—that’s different.” He huffed, leaning back in his seat and waving a frantic hand. “Believe me, it would be way easier if it were Callum. At least I know his name.” 

There was a quick pause between the two of them.  Not because Adrian was surprised by his own admission, but because Dahlia probably had no idea what to say to him. Adrian sighed and ran his hands down his face. 

Dahlia’s eyes suddenly sparked with recognition. “Wait, is this about that guy you told us about? The one from the dating app?” 

Adrian dropped his hands. “Yes. Unfortunately, yes.” 

“Adrian.” 

“I know!” Adrian huffed angrily, but it was directed at himself. “The whole point was not to get attached! And yet, here I am, attached. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“Nothing is wrong with you.” Dahlia rushed to comfort Adrian as he dropped his head onto the sticky club table. 

When he pulled away, his hair stuck to the marble, and he grimaced as he folded his arms and rested his chin on them instead. “I just don’t know what to do. We got—carried away.” He winced, hearing himself how that sounded. “But I don’t think we’re looking for the same thing anymore.” 

Dahlia hummed, leaning back in the booth and crossing her arms over her chest. “Have you talked to him about it?” 

Adrian shook his head. “No. I’ve been too chicken shit.” 

“Okay, well, there’s your problem, dummy! How are you supposed to know if you’re on the same page if you don’t ask?” She swirled the olive in her previously abandoned drink and propped her elbow on the table to rest her head on her hand. 

Adrian chewed on his lip. “I don’t want to scare him off.” 

“You haven’t scared him off so far,” Dahlia reminded. “Whose to say he doesn’t feel the same way you do?” 

“He wants to stay anonymous.” Adrian lifted his head and straightened up. “But I… I told him my name. He didn’t tell me his.” 

“Don’t push him. Let him come out of his shell at his own pace.” 

Once again, Adrian felt his eyes wander to where the Alphas of Bruin Enterprises were securing their drinks for the evening. Courntey was in a sleek, tight cocktail dress with a sweetheart neckline as red as the lipstick she was wearing. She laughed too hard and rested her hand on Callum’s arm, who did not shrug her off but just sipped his drink and listened to whatever Beck was saying. 

The club was too populated with sweaty patrons for their scents to stand out. Everyone was letting out something, even Adrian, and it all mingled into a dusty haze that covered the whole room. It gave Adrian a headache. 

He wanted to go home. 

Again, Dahlia followed Adrian’s line of sight. “Why do you hate that guy so much?” 

Adrian raised his eyebrows and turned his attention away. “What makes you ask that?” 

She shrugged, pulling her drink to her lips. “You just always get so tense whenever Callum enters a room. Even back in high school. I always thought it was an Alpha thing—like, I don’t know, two Alphas in the same room battling for dominance. But you’ve always had more of a Beta’s view of things, despite your second gender. So… I was just curious.” 

Adrian sighed and peered down into his own cocktail. He couldn’t possibly begin to explain his history with Callum, which dated back to before Dahlia joined the ranks of their group in high school. How Adrian felt put off by and drawn to the Bruin heir all at the same time. How he signed a deal with the devil—Callum’s father himself—at the ripe young age of 15, in exchange for an investment in his parents’ cafe. 

It was too complicated. He couldn’t explain because he didn’t get it himself. Callum was fine. He was human—at least, as far as Adrian was aware. He was a little trite, a real closed book—but that wasn’t what bothered Adrian so much. In fact, there was a time before they manifested when Adrian thought they might be friends. 

But then Callum went abroad for a year, after his 14th birthday, and he was… different when he got back. He’d manifested as an Alpha, for one, but he also stopped associating with Adrian, despite them being no more than acquaintances before that. He closed his circle more and more as they grew up, and eventually, they parted as strangers. 

And yet, Adrian was drawn to him anyway. 

He let out a sigh as long as their history together, and shook his head. “I don’t hate Callum.” He turned his attention to Dahlia. “It’s just that there’s a lot of… history there. We’ve been going to school together since, like, the third grade—but we’re from different worlds. It’s too weird. We may both be Alphas, and we both went to the same private schools, but that’s all we have in common.” 

Dahlia tilted her head in surprise, one eyebrow raised. “Sounds like there’s a part of the equation you’re leaving out.” 

Adrian couldn’t tell her everything, so he fished his wallet out of his pocket and slapped some bills on the table to cover his tab. “I’m feeling off. Can you tell the others I’m turning in early?” 

Dahlia’s expression melted into a frown. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Adrian smiled gently at her, pulling the thick porcelain of his mask back together. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just not feeling like myself. I’ll message the group chat when I get home.” 

“Okay…” Dahlia’s voice trailed off, but she didn’t stop him. 

Adrian used the opportunity to get away. The room parted like the Red Sea, leading him to the exit. Maybe once he got some fresh air, some of the fog plaguing his brain would lift, and he’d stop obsessing over Bently and Callum Bruin and all the other parts of his life that didn’t make sense. 

He flung open the back door of the club, which led into an alleyway that could get him back to the main road. It was normally used as a smoking area, but Adrian knew it could also lead him to freedom. Plus, the back door was locked from the outside, so it would be too much of a hassle to get back in if he left that way.

He stepped into the cold, late-night, letting the night bathe his cheeks. He closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath of clear air, letting the oxygen wash away his funk. And then, a moment later, the back door opened again, and someone collided right into his back. 

Adrian stumbled forward, but he hadn’t drunk enough to fall or lose his balance. The door slammed shut, and the person behind him let out a curse. Adrian swiveled, his lips pursed, ready to lay out a lecture to some drunk who wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

But the person in front of him was not drunk, despite the wide eyes and heaving chest. Adrian could tell well enough that there wasn’t alcohol involved in what was happening. 

Callum looked up at Adrian with his mouth slightly open, his breath coming out in frantic and uneven gasps. For a moment, Adrian could see pure panic in Callum’s ocean blue, like a body frantically treading water. He was clenching and unclenching his fists, fingers shaking. 

Every alarm bell in Adrian’s body started to ring all at once. And Callum stood there, trapped like a deer in headlights, unable to do anything at all. One way or another, Callum Bruin always managed to fall right into Adrian’s path. 

And Adrian genuinely wasn’t sure if he was cursed or blessed.