I pushed on my wheels and burst out of the person’s grip with startling ease, almost toppling out of the chair and onto my face. I turned and found myself looking at one of the regular referees from the rec center, the one who had been talking to Kade the other day. The one who tried to grab Kade before he could run off.
“What do you want?” I snapped.
The omega held up his hands. Not in the defiant, perplexed way Kade had done, but more as a calming gesture. “I know what I just did was impolite. I’m sorry. But I was yelling and yelling and you weren’t stopping.”
He was yelling and I didn’t hear him?
At least he had apologized. “It’s fine. But, what do you want? I’m leaving. I don’t really want to stay here any longer. They’ll all be talking about what I said.”
“They were,” the omega agreed. He smelled of cigarette smoke and chocolate and dessert wine. “The sugar daddy app.”
“Right.”
“Harrison… I’m Sterling.”
“Okay. And? Is your name supposed to have some significance for me?”
Sterling scuffed his shoe on the concrete and scowled. Not at me, but himself. “No. It’s not. I really messed up with how I did this. I didn’t want Aaron to tell you who I was. I thought it’d be more romantic if it was a surprise.”
“Aaron?” I frowned and then felt my eyes widen as the realization struck. There was only one reason Sterling would be talking to Aaron about me in that context. “No, this isn’t… No.”
Sterling sighed. His shoulders slumped. “He gave you the hint that you knew me. And he described me to you, right? But Kade and I look similar and you knew him more than you knew me. Talked to him on the court that day.”
“I have made a terrible mistake,” I whispered.
The leap of faith I took by identifying my date in a dark room at a busy venue had backfired on me. Sterling was supposed to be my date, not Kade. And now that I knew, every little odd moment, all the slightly off things he’d said during our time together finally made sense. Kade wouldn’t know who I was. Kade wouldn’t have talked with anyone about me, nor had I talked to anyone about him. His lack of understanding of what he signed up for -because he never signed up for anything at all.
And earlier when he said, “It’s a date” as if we hadn’t been on a date the entire time, it was because, as far as he knew, this wasn’t a date. I was some guy he had flirted with for a few minutes, who came up to him again at random acting all presumptuous.
The oddities with the descriptions… I made so many assumptions.
“Sterling,” I said. “I’m so sorry. I thought…”
Sterling nodded. “I understand. You were at the bar when Kade went there. You two met up. By the time I got there, I’d missed my chance.”
I reached out and took his hand in mine. “This wasn’t intentional, Sterling. Please know that. I would never have ditched you like that if I had known what was really supposed to happen tonight.”
Sterling nodded again. His eyes shimmered. Brown irises. A nice color, but just brown. Not amber.
Not Kade.
“If you want, we can still get a drink and talk,” Sterling offered, his voice soft. “I believe in do-overs.”
I had already played that card, reintroducing myself to Kade after our first weird exchange with the drinks and the jerk wings. If I did it again, it wouldn’t be as meaningful.
“Sterling, I would have loved to. But I’m… I’m tired now. And upset. I think I want to go home. And I hope you can find a better alpha than me.” My throat clogged with emotion. For me, or for him, I had no idea.
“Don’t be upset, okay?” Sterling said. He patted the back of my hand before letting go. “I really do get it. It was an honest misunderstanding. You want to take a step back and reevaluate how things turned out.”
“Thank you. You’re a very wonderful omega.”
He laughed. “I don’t know about that, but thank you. I’ll let you go. Drive safe tonight. Lots of drunks out there.”
I chuckled. “You, too.”
“As long as my taxi driver is sober, I’ll be in good hands.” Sterling fluttered his fingers in a little wave and walked back up the ramp, leaving me alone once more.
I lowered my head to try and hide from anyone else who might come along to talk to me. As if I could have. As if everyone would be able to miss me, the disgraced CEO who had to use a hookup app to get a date to his own event.
I made it through the parking lot and was about to lower the ramp for my van when my phone rang. I had it out of my pocket and in my hand before I could think to ignore it. The caller’s name sent chills through me.
Aaron.
You are the last person on earth I want to talk to right now.
I knew I had no choice, though. Sterling must have already told him what happened and now I had to explain the part I’d played in the events tonight.
“Hello?” I tried to keep my dread from my voice, hoping it read as simple tiredness.
“Hi, Harrison,” Aaron said brightly. I knew in that instant he had no idea about the screw-up. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I just wanted to ask how things were going tonight.”
“Well, a lot happened.” That was the truth, at least. “I’ll tell you about it soon. I was about to go home right now. I’m worn out.”
“Worn out, huh?” Aaron repeated. He sounded as if he was smirking. I wished whatever subtext he was imagining had actually happened, instead of the disaster I’d caused by wasting everyone’s time. “That sounds promising! But, I won’t keep you. Just get back to me when you can, okay? I’m eager to learn about everything.”
“I’ll talk to you soon,” I said, and hung up.
Well, that’s one disaster I managed to avoid tonight.
Sighing, I packed myself up in the van and went back home. For the first few miles, I held out hope that distance would give me a reprieve from my thoughts, but that turned out not to be the case. The further I went, the more I thought of Kade.
8
Kade
I took a taxi by myself back to my apartment building, my thoughts tangled up in an endless circle inside me. I kept thinking over and over again how I’d screwed up, how I should have been more clear with Harrison about not knowing who the hell he was when he first came up to me. I should have asked more questions about him. I should have known who he was. I should have, would have, could have, but I had stumbled repeatedly and missed out on all those chances. I’d built a bridge without any supports and then had the audacity to be startled when it collapsed out from under my feet. Now I floundered, swept around and around in a foaming vortex, pulled down into the dark depths of some great body of water.
The worst part of it all was I didn’t regret the time I’d spent with him. It had been so long, so brief, so wonderful and mysterious. The memories of how he made me feel was like having an oxygen tank with just enough air in it to take little sips of breath, enough to ease the aching and spur me into struggling action again. Each time I had that bit of relief, I only submerged myself deeper, and then struggled again, and I knew I was doing it, but the relief was so good I couldn’t stop. I had to keep thinking about him and his eyes, his warm touch, his strong hands.
“Hey,” the taxi driver said, sounding extremely annoyed. “You listening? I said we’re here.”
I stirred from my state of prolonged internal drowning and looked around. Sure enough, we were here. My apartment was staring me in the face, familiar lights pushing against the glass.
“Thanks,” I said, and handed over more than enough cash to cover the meter. “Keep the change.”
I slid outside and into the muggy heat, radiating all around, from the concrete walkway below and the shining buildings to either side. I actually felt more like I was swimming than walking.
Inside was a little better, although not much. The security guard was all but dozing, his chin dipped toward his chest and his eyes shut. “Close the door,” he m
uttered, scolding even while unconscious.
I took the elevator and went up to my apartment, letting myself in. The air-conditioning was on, cool air blowing on my cheeks and forehead, getting rid of the sticky heat of the outdoors that had traveled with me all this way.
I should go to bed.
I flopped on the couch instead, the bed a little too far away to walk in my drained state. I lay my head back and stared up at the ceiling, not seeing the weathered roof or the rotating ceiling fans. Instead, I was back on the balcony, Harrison’s wheelchair pressed against my side, his mellow voice like a kiss. A kiss. I should have kissed him. I should have done more, so I’d have even more to remember him by, since I was certain I’d never see him again. Why would he want to see me?
Why wouldn’t he want to see me? What did I do wrong? Had my joke really offended him that much? Or was it because I’d said it in front of all those other people?
“Oh, God,” I moaned. I put my arm over my eyes, trying to keep from seeing my own stupidity.
Ringing. Sharp, intrusive.
I sat up straight, dropping my arm down. My head pounded, my mouth sticky with thick saliva. I had fallen asleep out here on the couch at some point, the thick fog of an uneasy doze blurring my vision.
Groaning, I grabbed my phone and looked at the screen. Four a.m. Sterling’s contact picture stared me in the face, the one I’d taken shortly after we met. He was in his referee shirt, black and white stripes, standing in the equipment room behind one of those metal rolling doors -the kind also used to cover mall stores at closing time. He looked like a prisoner. We’d thought we were so clever until we realized we didn’t actually have the right key and he was locked in there.
But this picture was taken before that happened, the countenance of his miniscule features showing mischief and simple amusement. A snapshot of a good time right before the shit hit the fan, a similar experience to what I’d gone through tonight. Well, last night.
I didn’t want to talk to him. Not after pushing him away and ditching him at the gala -twice.
I answered anyway. What I wanted didn’t matter anymore. “Hey.”
“Kade,” he said, “I’m sorry. The way tonight turned out, you have to be so confused.”
“I am confused. But why are you sorry? I’m the one who should be sorry. I left you there. I just…”
“It’s okay. I had something to take care of anyway before I could go home. I was going to talk to you at the gym, but I couldn’t sleep.”
Guilt made me squirm. He couldn’t sleep, and I’d conked out so hard on the couch I didn’t even remember falling asleep.
“Do you remember what Harrison said to you, about a sugar daddy app?”
“Yes.” That was one of the dozen things I didn’t understand.
Sterling sighed. “It’s a hookup app. Rich alphas meet young omegas. It’s called East Coast Sugar Daddies.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s just in the first stages of development right now. I found out from a friend of a friend. It seemed like it was a good deal, so, I, um, I signed up. And my date was supposed to be Harrison. But he thought you were me, and I never even saw him until after the auction ended.”
And everything clicked into place.
“Harrison? He’s here?”
The disbelief on Sterling’s face, the confusion as I went to talk to Harrison like I knew him.
The way Sterling had talked about Harrison back at the gym…
“Shit,” I swore. Regret struck me in the stomach and I leaned forward over the pain. “Sterling, I didn’t mean to steal him. I know how much you liked him and I never, ever would have…”
He interrupted me. “It’s okay. It was a coincidence that I already knew him when Aaron matched us. And anyway, Harrison and I talked about it already.”
My hand spasmed into a fist against the couch cushion. “Are you two going to try another date?”
“I don’t think so. I’m going to see if I can get matched with anyone else.”
Which meant Harrison would be on his own again, without me or Sterling.
“Thanks for telling me,” I said, very softly. “Are we still friends?”
“Are you kidding?” Sterling’s voice warmed up, a balm to some of my more minor wounds. “This isn’t a sitcom. I’m not going to hate you for eight episodes over some dumb mistake. We’re friends.”
I laughed. “Thanks.”
Sterling yawned into the phone, so loud I had to hold the speaker away from my ear. “I think I can go to bed now. You should do the same, okay?”
“Yeah,” I agreed, softly. “I think I will.”
In my bed, properly this time.
We said good night and promised to hang out soon. Then, when the call ended, I got up off the couch and went straight to bed, where I lay awake as the minutes passed, thinking about Harrison. I had no idea how to feel anymore. I wasn’t who he thought I should be, yet he had seemed to like me anyway; that being assumed, did he like me for who I was, or because he was simply looking for a young omega to spend time with and anyone would do?
I fell asleep and had a ton of vivid dreams I couldn’t remember, not that I cared to think hard when I woke up and my head was pounding with an even worse headache than before. Sounds were too loud and the sunlight was too fierce, razor-edged impulses slicing my nerves to shreds. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I took note of my bloodshot eyes and the pasty, dehydrated quality of my skin. I looked like death warmed over. I should have stayed home from work, nursing this awful stress headache, but the idea of being alone with my thoughts wasn’t appealing. I forced myself to get dressed and eat something, although I could hardly taste anything through the coat of film left on my tongue, a film not even brushing my teeth could get rid of.
I packed a bottle of water and a handful of aspirin into my workout bag, and then headed to the gym where I had a meeting with one of my clients.
Malinda was a pretty omega, considerably overweight, although she had been slowly losing weight and acquiring muscle mass through the six months I’d been working with her. Seeing her every week affirmed my decision to even become a physical fitness instructor, because I was watching her turn from a self-conscious woman struggling with body issues to a more confident version of herself. So many people in the world were given misguided impressions about working out and how to be healthy. It was impossible and confusing, and she had felt overwhelmed, lost, like she would never figure it out. Together, we were developing a routine that was easy to manage with all her other daily activities, and reevaluating some of her choices in favor of better ones.
The end goal was not to be skinny. The end goal was to be healthy. Not everyone was going to turn out to be an athlete who could run marathons, but they could look better -realistically better- and feel better, while enjoying yoga, or jump rope, or dance, or any of the other thousands of options in the world that so many other instructors ignored.
Normally, I enjoyed time with Malinda. I enjoyed watching her grow and learn to laugh even while uncertain and out of breath.
Today, however, I wanted it to be over. And she noticed.
“You look like death warmed over,” Malinda said, eyeing me up and down. “Too much partying last night?”
“Yeah,” I grunted, and took a swig from my water bottle. “Remember. Stay hydrated. It’s very important.”
She laughed softly. “We can reschedule this if you need to.”
“What I need is to get moving.”
We started out with some light warm-ups before diving into yoga, one of her preferred exercises. My head throbbed with every movement, and I felt slightly nauseous, but as time went on, I did start to feel a little better. My body woke up, my systems getting on the move again. I worked through the difficulty and, at the end of it, when both Malinda and I were sweating and satisfied, I had to wonder why I couldn’t do this in other areas of my life. If I could teach through a headache, why did I jump ship at the fi
rst sign of a hardship? What was so wrong with me that I couldn’t stick with anything?
But, I knew, it wasn’t that I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. Better things always came along. Would I ever recognize when I was in the best place, or would I unknowingly leave that behind in search of more?
When was I going to stop?
So confusing. There weren’t any answers anywhere, not even to the question of why I was having this crisis.
I suddenly remembered something I had said to Harrison. “Even if you still want to do more, you should appreciate what you’ve already accomplished.” Maybe I needed to start doing that, take my own advice. I should look at what’s really important to me.
After Malinda, I had another client to work with, who didn’t seem to notice I was in worse shape than usual. The day carried on as normal, as if last night never happened, and so did the next one after that.
But, on the third day, everything changed. I was scheduled to be a referee at Harrison’s rec center. I knew Sterling wouldn’t be there because he was doing something else today, which meant if I didn’t go, some other referee was going to get stuck there by themselves. Being a referee at those tournaments wasn’t exactly hard, but it was always nice to have another person there to make calls, to argue with, to joke around with.
I couldn’t ditch them.
I showed up at the rec center gym not knowing what to think, half of me hoping Harrison wouldn’t be there and half of me hoping he would. I was in turmoil, not knowing which outcome I’d prefer more. He had every right to be there, but I had no clue if he would even want to take the chance of accidentally running into me again.
My breath lodged in my throat, a physical lump that made it impossible to swallow. My hand shook as I opened the gym door. Every part of my being went taut, muscles stretched like cords at their breaking point.
I entered.
The smell hit me first, floor polish and sweat and rubber. Basketballs bounced, their hollow reverberations evocative, causing memories of adolescence to flash through my mind. And then I didn’t think at all, because he was there, in the crowd, warming up with his team. He held a basketball in his hand, sliding into place for a shot. He aimed, his eyes narrowing, eyebrows drawing together in an intense scowl of concentration that left my stomach tingling even though he wasn’t looking at me. He pushed up, lifting his hand for a gorgeous follow-through that sent the ball swishing through the hoop without touching the rim. He moved off, caught the ball out of the air, and passed it to the next person, a young kid who followed in his footsteps by making another perfect basket. He couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven years old and he had mad skills.
Sweet Emotion: East Coast Sugar Daddies: Book 1 Page 7