Page 43 of Broken Ice
Tinny spoke slowly. “Your scent is universally good-looking, dude. It’sreallynice. Not to be creepy or anything. Just saying.”
Beau truly didn’t know how to respond.
“Hey,” a voice beside the table said. Emilio stood there stiffly, staring at Beau, who scooted up so Emilio could fit in.
“Emilio. They’re bullying me.”
Pez let out an exasperated burst of air. “Bullyingyou?”
Beau ignored them. “They’re saying I have a universally good-looking scent.”
Emilio glanced around the table. “What the fuck?”
Beau made aSee?gesture towards him. “See? Emilio doesn’t agree.”
“I don’t even know what thatmeans. How can a scent be good-looking?” Emilio asked.
Beau was very quickly becoming tired of the subject.
If his scent was that good, he would have known by now. Sure, he tended to ignore anything that had to do with being an Omega most of the time, and had spent his formative years trying to fit in with groups of Alphas, but he wasn’tthatoblivious.
If he smelt nice, someone would have said something by now.
If he smelt nice, his last boyfriend wouldn’t have been so mean about how strong his scent was, accusing Beau of doing it on purpose.
If he smelt nice, Johnson wouldn’t have put him on suppressants for stinking up the locker room.
“Whatever,” Beau said, gulping his beer down. “Where’s Pav? Is he dancing? Because I have to see that happen. I need another drink, actually.” He spotted the waiter carrying a tray to the other table. Beau bumped Emilio to get out, feeling a little suffocated all of a sudden.
Emilio let him out.
Beau needed some air. “Imma go outside for a sec. Do they have a smoking area here?” He wandered away.
Turned out the place had a covered outside area, the air chilly but not too bad considering it was December. Christmas lightswere hung on the palm trees lining the street and Beau stared at them, taking a few lungfuls.
What the hell was wrong with him?
“You okay?”
Beau jumped, clutching his chest, but it was just Emilio. “Shit—yeah. I’m fine.”
“You wanna be alone?”
Beau went to say ‘Yes’, but the word got caught in his throat.
He shook his head.
Beau prided himself in always being unapologetically himself. He was loud, and he was friendly, and he was open, and he was passionate, and he put it all out there.
He was starting to realise that there was a big part of him, however, that he’d been trying to deform in order to fit the hockey mould. Hesaidhe was proud of his scent, of how strong it was, but then why had he taken those suppressants?
Why was it inconceivable that someone was flirting with him because of how he smelt?
“Did someone say something? You said they were bullying you,” Emilio asked, stepping closer. They were tucked away in one of the corners, away from the groups of smoking people.
“I was kidding. They were just…” Beau ran his hand down his face, suddenly deeply, deeply exhausted. “I’m just tired.”
“Hey.”
