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I’ve had a glass of wine or a single beer here or there while in college, but I have no interest in being that out of control, especially in this type of environment.
“I mean it,” Fitz says. “This tour is for both of us. I still feel like I dragged you along. I can’t stand the thought of you being miserable the entire time.” He sits up in a crunch and cuddles his cheek to mine before doing the other side. It marks my skin with his pheromones, which is kind of an intimate thing between an alpha and an omega.
My heart races almost as fast as my brain.
Was that a purposeful move or instinctual?
Which one do I want it to be?
Like, if he did it instinctually, does that mean he’s as attracted to my scent as I’ve always been to his?
If he did it purposely, was it a friendly move just meant to comfort me?
It’s too damn early for racing thoughts and insecurities.
I move to climb over him, saying, “Sorry, I need the restroom.”
“Careful, sweetheart.” Fitz yanks back the curtain and helps me climb out with a hand on my ass. “We both know how clumsy you can be.”
I grunt my agreement as my head aches, and I escape to the bathroom.
* * *
I use the restroom, wash my hands, and wander out to ask about etiquette when it comes to showering.
“Good morning,” Warrick says when he spots me. He’s sitting in one of the swivel chairs, and he turns to face me, using his feet. “There’s breakfast on the counter.”
“Thank you, but I was going to check if it might be all right if I take a quick shower.” I fidget, pointing a thumb toward the bathroom when he doesn’t say anything. “When I was a teenager I traveled with my grandparents in their RV. They were super strict about water usage, but I promise I’ll be quick.”
“The bus staff makes sure we’re always stocked with water. You don’t need to worry about rushing. You can shower after you eat something.” Warrick nods toward the counter. “I asked Karla to make a plate special for you.” His eyes gleam in a weird way I’ve never noticed, and it seems a little predatory.
“Is it poisoned?” I blurt out.
Damn intrusive thoughts.
“It is not,” he says without batting an eye.
“But I’m not hungry.”
“Do you know the tour has special red bracelets for anyone under twenty-one? The meet and greets are also exclusive to those of drinking age.” He raises an eyebrow, nodding at the coffee table.
The label hired me.
They have to know how old I am. But what if that fact slipped through the cracks?
I gasp when I spot said bracelets. “You wouldn’t.”
“Are you sure you’d like to put that to the test?” he asks ominously.
My foot bounces against the floor as the stare down between us continues, but I also find it difficult not to squirm. There’s something about the unapologetic dominance Warrick exudes that I find fascinating.
And incredibly attractive.
I bite my cheek to keep from blurting that out. Sometimes my brain-to-mouth filter feels especially thin.
Warrick unfolds his massive frame from the chair and prowls closer. No one that giant should have that much grace. It’s unnatural. The thought instantly reminds me that Fitz is around here somewhere, and we totally had a moment before I bolted.
My eyes fly to the bunks.
