Page 142 of Alpha Mates

“Continuing, grass or sand?”

I wrinkle my nose. “What kind of question is that?” Aiden shrugs. “I guess both are annoying, but I would say grass is better.”

“Vegetarians,” he mutters, and I snort before I burst out laughing.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask as he takes a bite from one of the cones.

“Evhrythinf.”

“Alright, Aiden,” I say, still laughing. I decide on a question I think we’re close enough now for him to answer. “Why don’t you paint anymore?”

“Because you burnt down my art room,” he retorts immediately. The softness behind his gaze is gone now, replaced by a hurt that staggers me.

“You cut off my hair,” I remind him.

“Yeah, and your hair grew back,” he says. “It’s kind of hard to start painting again when you have nowhere to start.”

Aiden looks away then, taking his attention and light with him, leaving me in the shadow of it. I frown, wanting to argue because he hurt me too when he’d cut my hair, but Ihadgrown my hair back. It hadn’t even taken that long, but his art …

I remember it being beautiful, too. I remember hesitating.

A stony silence sinks into the space between us as the bond cools, and I curse myself. I shouldn’t have brought it up so lightly, but I had, so there’s only fixing it now. Scouring for some way to revive this, I look at Aiden and there’s only one thing that comes to mind.

“I like your eyes.”

Aiden stills with his fork halfway to his mouth. His eyes flick up—those deep, dark eyes that he tries to hide.

“What?” he asks, tentative.

He looks skittish—scared. And for a second, I’m terrified I’m about to make this worse, but I’m already in it, and it’s the truth.

“I like your eyes,” I repeat. “I’ve never seen anything like them. They’re like a brownish-black colour. It isn’t really one or the other, but there’s a golden streak over them and they’re nice … to look at.”

“Oh,” Aiden mumbles, diverting his gaze to the food. “Thanks, I guess.”

“That’s why I always take them off when I can. Your shades I mean,” I add, fumbling with my napkin under the table. “Not because they’re in the way, but because I’d rather look at you.”

He lifts his eyes again, briefly. There’s so much in them, so much I can’t read, but I feel it in our bond. Doubt, fear, hope, and so much longing.

“I wish I could see them more,” I whisper, forcing honesty. “I like seeing you.”

Aiden fidgets in his place, and it’s faint, but I spot the colour rushing up his neck. “I’ll—” he pauses, knocking his fork against the rim of his plate. “I’ll stop wearing shades at home, if you want.”

“I’d like that,” I say with a genuine smile.

We let the moment breathe. I wish we could go back to asking each other stupid questions, but that moment is gone. Plates are cleared, stacked, taken away.

“Want to explore?” I ask, when we’re left with an empty table and nothing else. “There’s a lot to do here.”

There’s an aquarium I’m dying to see, and I know Aiden will love, but I want it to be a surprise. Thankfully, he nods, the corner of his lips tilting up as he rests his napkin on the table. I do the same, standing, and to my pleasure, Aiden reaches for my hand. I take it without hesitation and lead the way.

Aiden sees blue water and colourful scales, and gasps like a little kid. My laughs are buried in his neck as he slides an arm over my shoulder. I slip mine around his waist and we wander, entangled.

“I still had a few questions,” I say as we walk slowly. “So if this is still a date …”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Shoot.”

A pressure on my chest unwinds. “Favourite movie?”