Page 75 of Alphas Like Us

Farrow easily recalls each word, and his eyes stroke mine in hot, tender affection. “That’s good because it looks like we want the samething.”

I inhale like I haven’t taken a breath in eons. The one constant in my off-kilter world has beenus—Farrow and me. Hearing him say that he wants to stand upright next to me, for the long haul—it’s a goddamndream.

The corner of his mouth rises. “You’re smiling,” he breathes against my lips before kissing me. One of those brief, teasing kisses that stings. Aching formore.

“I’m really happy,” I whisper, but my brows cinch at a thought. “Strangely since we’re in a DEFCON 1situation.”

Farrow nods and drops my hand, just so he can return to the shelves. He grabs my phone next to the Pop-Tart box. “Do you remember what I askedyou?”

I try to rewind my brain, but all I remember ishopefully yourlast.

A knowing smile edges across his face. “I said that you’ve never experienced this shit either. You can’t know how it’ll affect you when you read about us.” He makes acome closergesture with two fingers and unlocks my phone with thepasscode.

I near him, my red sling rubbing coarsely against my chest. “I’ve also had paparazzi and journalists ask about my love life since I wasfourteen.” Our eyes meet. “I’ve dealt with speculations before. Maybe not about us, but I’m better equipped forthis.”

Farrow waits to open a web page. “Okay, but I’m not sitting on the sidelines. I’d rather learn to deal with it than avoidit.”

I nod. “I can get behindthat.”

He reaches for the Pop-Tart box. “That’s because you love getting behind me.” Farrow tears open the silver individual pastry wrapper with his teeth, his smile my fuckingundoing.

My blood heats, but I also eagle-eye the phone in his other hand. “Let me prep youfirst.”

His brows shoot up. “Prepme?”

I rest my hand on my neck, the strain in my muscle uncomfortable. “It’s what I used to do when I was younger. You tell yourself what people are probably saying before you see or hear it—that way it doesn’t cut asbadly.”

Farrow passes me the cinnamon Pop-Tart. “You would prepare. Pack your survival gear, remember your liferaft—”

“Alright,” I interject. I get that he’shimand I’mmeand we’ll handle every crisis a bit differently.But I had to offer anyway. “So you don’t want a raft then?” I take a large bite of the cold Pop-Tart.

I haven’t eaten in forever, and Farrow knew that. He must’ve also known that I wouldn’t be as nauseous. My uneasy stomach is instantly grateful for the food. Settlingdown.

“No raft,” he confirms, typing on my phone. “Let’s just dive in, wolfscout.”

I’m the better swimmer, so in this analogy or metaphor, I can save him if the current pulls him under. I wonder if he’s thinking aboutthat.

I lean back, shelves digging in my spine, but my side is up against Farrow’s, our shoulders nearly at equal height. He wraps his arm around my muscular waist and searches the internet with his otherhand.

Janie’s cat scratches and meows at the pantry door, slicing into the shortsilence.

“TryCelebrity Crushfirst,” I tellhim.

He types the tabloid site into the search engine, and as soon as we’re on the homepage, we both read the biggest headline:Popular Male Porn Star Buys Night with Maximoff Hale at CharityAuction.

It’s prettygeneric.

Something we bothexpected.

I swallow the last of the Pop-Tart while Farrow clicks into the article. He scrolls really goddamn fast. Skim-reading, and then he reaches the comments, slowingdown…

It’s all a fucking hoax. Their relationship is #FAKE

Ugh. Why would he let a porn star buy him if he’s dating someone?Gross.

They have no chemistry anyway. This just confirmsit.

He’s only dating Maximoff to getfamous.