Page 85 of Why Cruise

Just say it. Say panic attack. Just say you had a panic attack.

“I didn’t handle it really well.”

Fucking Ren had to put you back together like fucking always. And you hate yourself for how good it felt.

“The only thing that helped was her falling asleep on my shoulder.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Here.” Theo stepped closer and rested his forearm against mine. Instantly, my brain sputtered and ran out of gas. “Yummy omega auras,” he shrugged. “They’ve actually done clinical studies on their healing aspects.”

I felt all my muscles loosen, like I could take my first deep breath in hours.

“Thank you.” I whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

Theo’s eyes darted all over the horizon like he was taking in the moon and every single star in the sky.

“Can I ask you something?” Something had been nagging at the edges of my awareness, tasting almost like guilt. I had bullied Rose into that car with more than just my sparkling personality. I had to know it wasn’t that.

“Anything.”

“When I, er…” I stalled. I wanted to be careful with my words. Yeah, right. That was it. “Kissed you and had you put your hands behind your back. How did that make you feel?”

Theo was quiet for a long time. A very long time. An uncomfortably long time.

“So,” he started, like he was the one choosing his words carefully now. “This isn’t a diminishing statement, but I don’t have another word for it.” He paused, but just to take a breath. “It made me feel… small.”

I looked at him. His profile was in shadows. I couldn’t tell from only half his face what that meant.

“Small, but not as in less than. Or less important. Or not equal or worthy or anything like that. I don’t really have a word for it. But it’s like… betas are like big square stone rocks.”

“Rocks?”

“Like Stonehenge. Solid and dependable. They have soft edges or sharp corners, but they’re just square.” He slid a glance at me like he wanted to make sure I didn’t think this was nonsense. “Alphas are… huge and spiky. They’re blinking neon lights and primary colors and those acupressure foot rollers that have those spiky bits that hurt and feel good at the same time.”

I turned towards him now, utterly fascinated. I’d never heard the designations described like that, but it tracked. A thousand questions burned the tip of my tongue. I wanted to pick his brain apart.

He licked his lips, still not making eye contact with me. “Omegas are round and soft. Like marshmallows. But kind of fuzzy. And small. No one has ever made me,” he shrugged, “let me feel small like a marshmallow.”

I didn’t know what I expected. Dick jokes or an intellectual dissertation on the existential threat posed by power exchange inside an already inherently unbalanced dynamic? ‘Small’ was not it. The ‘let me feel’ part of it was going to keep me up at night.

“Oh, and, well, the obvious. My dick was so hard.”

“Noted.” I laughed.

I took another sweeping look across the deck. The canoodling couples were canoodling. There was another tangle of a few people, a pack, oblivious to their surroundings.

I stepped behind Theo and put a hand on either side of his. He snapped up to his full height. Which was perfect. He was a few inches shorter than me, my lips right at his ear.

“Small like this?”

“Yup.” He popped that “P” really hard.

I closed my eyes and breathed him in. I didn’t know how his scent could be coconut, but not cloying and tropical like a drink you put an umbrella in. With the tips of my fingers, I turned his face to me for a kiss. His lips were tentative at first, then hungry. He moved to face me, but I pinched his chin and put space between us.

“Both hands on the rail, Theo.”

His palms hit the rail with a loud clap. He was stiff with tension against me. His left pinkie stretched out and wrapped around my index finger. I pressed into his back, my right hand finding its way under his untucked shirt. His breath went ragged in that delicious way. I trailed fingertips across his stomach in a long sweeping motion, dragged them back, skimming his belt line.

---