Page 3 of Chasing The Alpha's Son
“Okay,” she says, just above a whisper.
“You sure?”
“Yes, okay. You’re right.” She perks up a little, maybe the caffeine is starting to take effect. “You deserve better, I always said that. So screw Jasper! And Merry fudging Christmas!”
“Merry freaking Christmas!”
We bump our festive cups together.
Once I’ve dropped Katie and her terrible twosome off at the subway, I head back in the direction of Grand Central. There’s a nasty chill in the air, so I shove my hands farther into my coat pockets, but I’m happy to be walking.
It’s good practice. The way I’m steeling myself against the cold is exactly what I need to do with Jasper. The Moon Gods know he’s about as icy as the rink at Rockefeller and as gray and emotionless as the clouds overhead. I need to brace myself against any lingering mushy feelings, any shred of desire. I definitely need to stop picturing our kiss on the beach every time I close my eyes.
By the time I reach the station I’m almost in a good mood. I pop in the AirPods my parents bought me as a way to say, “Sorry you were almost killed by a pack of rogues, we’re glad you’re okay,” and put on some music. I don’t even think about checking my messages.
I know he hasn’t texted or called. And I’m okay with that.
I’m okay with that.
How hard can it really be not to look at my phone?
About fifteen minutes into the train journey, I start to feel like an addict going through withdrawal. My foot is tapping relentlessly; my fingers are fidgeting, inching closer and closer to my pocket; I’m grinding my teeth so loud the guy in the wrinkled suit opposite me keeps glancing up from his newspaper.
And then my phone buzzes and I nearly explode. Why would the Moon Gods do this to me when I’m trying so hard to be good?
Fine, I’ll look.
With trepidation and a heartbeat faster than a bullet, I pull out my phone. Maybe the new plan worked. Maybe somewhere Jasper could sense that I was over him and felt spurred into action.
Or maybe it’s just Katie saying she’s made it home already. I send her a quick smiley face in response and sink deeper into my seat.
Dad is waiting for me at the station when the train pulls in.
“Hey champ,” he says. Why is he always so damn jolly? “Did you have a nice time?”
“It was fine,” I deadpan and get into the car without looking at him.
When we arrive home I slam the front door behind me and head straight for my room.
“Is that you, kiddo?” Mom calls from the living room, but I don’t answer. I stomp up the stairs like each step is Jasper’s stupid face and I want to break his perfect nose. “Don’t you want any dinner?”
I spend the night tossing and turning. Somehow making the decision not to care has only made things worse. I keep glancing at my phone on my bedside table, somehow expecting it to light up even though it’s three in the morning and why would Jasper be awake at three in the morning, let alone texting me?
When the sun finally rises, I sit up and rub my bleary eyes. My phone sits lifeless and dark next to me.
Screw this!
I throw on the warmest clothes I can find and grab my sketchbook. It’s been a while since I’ve gone down to my spot by the river, and I could really use some clarity right about now.
Mom is already up making coffee in the kitchen as I pass through.
“Hey, where are you off to?” she asks, clearly surprised to see me out of bed before noon on a weekend.
“To the woods to draw.”
“Not without your coat and hat, kiddo, it’s below freezing out there.”
I sigh dramatically but she’s right. Even though wolves tend to run hot, I’d still come home a human popsicle in this weather. Like a begrudging toddler I grab my coat from the rack by the front door and pull my beanie down over my ears.
