Page 66 of How to Lose a Pack in 10 Dates

You BROKE him.

ZARA:God I hope it was off-key. Like... aggressively.

LEX:You’re a menace, Aims.

I’m so proud.

I stretch, then remember—

Oh. Right.

TheWi-Fi.

I snatch my phone back up with manic glee and type:

I also renamed the Wi-Fi to OmegaNet: Streaming Hormones 24/7.

He hasn’t emotionally recovered.

It was like watching a cartoon, the way his face had visibly reddened upon realizing. All that was missing was the steam coming out of his ears.

LEX:I’M GONNA GET THAT TATTOOED

ZARA:That’s art. Frame it. Cross-stitch it. Put it on a tote.

LEX:You’re a national treasure. Is he crying? Is he pacing???

Heavy footsteps move up the stairs—measured, deliberate, with that familiar pissed-off rhythm—and I pause to listen. I glance down at my closed bedroom door, watching the unmistakably broad, alpha-shaped shadow stretch across the hallway floor.

It has to be Wes. No one else stompsandsulks at the same time.

He hesitates outside my room, and for a moment, everything goes still. He stands there long enough for me to feel it—his scent, faint through the crack, citrus-sharp and restrained—before he keeps walking.

Coward.

I send them my update:

He hovered outside my door for six seconds, but did nothing more. Probably journaling about it now. Or doing voodoo.

ZARA:Tell Kevin the cactus to stay alert.

LEX:I’ll alert the Groupchat Council. Next prank: scented laundry detergent?

I smirk.

Already switched it to “Spring Meadows.”

He told Cam he smells like a baby wipe. Cam cried laughing.

LEX:AIMEE YOU ICON.

I laugh under my breath as I toss my phone aside. Operation: Drive Alpha-hole Ex-Boyfriend Insane is officially underway, and so far? 10/10. No notes.

But the gleeful sound dies the second I open my laptop.

There it is. The document I’ve been ignoring for the past two days.

HOW TO LOSE A PACK IN 10 DATES.

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