Page 104 of Alphas Like Us

Both ofours.

I repeatthat.

Both ofours.

“You’re smiling,” he points out beforeeating.

Yeah, it’s hard to grimace. “What can I say? I like yourpersonaliesmore than yourtechnicalities.”

His rings clank on wood as he taps his chair. He swallows his food. “Technically,” he starts, and I’m already groaning, “personalies don’t exist. It’s not aword.”

I fill my mouth with pizza to free my hand—and I flip himoff.

He rolls his eyes into a smile. As he eats the crust of his, I zero in on his cheek. Where Thatcher hit him. The bruise is almost gone, but Jane has helped Farrow conceal the blemish with makeup whenever we goout.

Farrow didn’t want a tabloid to spin a story aboutmepunchinghim.

I’m still majorly pissed at Thatcher. More than even Farrow at this point. I don’t understand why Thatcher keeps shitting on my boyfriend, and if he does it again, I’ll snap onhim.

I told Jane what her bodyguard said, and immediately she told me, “I won’t speak to him. I can’t.” Out of loyalty to us, she’s been on a gigantic silent treatment with Thatcher until furthernotice.

I know it’s hard for Janie. She likes to engage in conversation, even if it’s a one-sided chat and the person rarely answersback.

In the pizzeria, my gaze falls from his cheek to his carved biceps. More distracted by his tattoos than his muscles. An inked ribbon circles a compass with the words,go your ownway.

The media keeps speculating what my next career willbe.

A recent headline:Maximoff Hale, Heir to Three Corporations. Which one will he choose?You believe that I’ll be hired to one of the family companies: Fizzle, Hale Co., or HalwayComics.

I can even help out at Superheroes & Scones. But I don’t know where my heart isyet.

“What are you thinking?” Farrow crumples anapkin.

I retrace my brain’s endless paths. “I’m thinking about life. How I left my family legacy, and tomorrow, you’re returning to yours.” My head turns as someoneapproaches.

A waiter brings over hot tea that I ordered. I thank him, the water steaming and cup too hot totouch.

As he leaves, I tell Farrow, “And how I have a gigantic load of free time and maybe I should build a house with my bare hands or go into the wild and figure out the philosophical meaning of my fragile existence. And then I think about how I’d rather go into the wild with you.” I add, “And how my ass is better than yourass.”

Physical, mental, and sexual—those are the routes of mymind.

He looks me up and down, his earring swaying. “I have the better ass, but I can let you believe that youdo.”

I picture his ass now. And I instantly imagine my cock sliding inside of him and the way his muscles contract in scalding arousal—fuck me.I blink a few times to avoidfantasizing.

His knowingsmile spreads wider andwider.

I scowl. “Your smile is ripping your faceapart.”

“Anatomically impossible, but nice try.” He laughs as I grimace, and then my phone vibrates.Texts from my family.Asking about the date. It’s been constant allnight.

I take out my phone just to ensure it’s nothingserious.

But I’mdistracted.

By you-know-who.

Not Voldemort. Someone hotter. Not that I think the villain in theHarry Potterbooks is even remotely hot—Christ, stopthinking.