My Female Alpha

TWO

emery

My body feels like a spring, ready to come loose at any moment. I park my car behind the Foundry and snag my purse from the passenger seat. As I head for the back entrance of the bar, I smooth my palms over my blouse and jeans. The air swirls around me in heavy, icy shockwaves. I should have worn a coat.

"I.D.," the bouncer demands. He's a staggeringly tall man with a bald head and dull eyes.

I retrieve the little card from my wallet and let him scrutinize it. He takes extra time to check my face.

"I'm old, trust me," I say with a smile.

He hands it back with a grunt. "Twenty-three is hardly old. Come talk to me about old when you're my age."

I laugh and step inside. Phone in hand, I re-read Calla's last text to me.

Calla Work: in a table by the bar facing cornhole

After seeing the cornhole boards, I navigate towards the long table seated with ten or so people. Calla waves when she notices me. I greet the mostly unfamiliar people with her, smiling and nodding. She pulls out the chair beside her.

"Dude, I'm so glad you could make it!" she exclaims. Her words are already a little slurred.

Grinning, I say, "Thanks for inviting me. Honestly. I need to get out more."

"Don't we all?" She grabs a pint glass and fills it with amber liquid from the pitcher. "Here! It's good ole Bud."

I don't like beer, but I gratefully accept the glass. She eyes my outfit as I take a gulp.

"You dress up nice, dishwasher." Calla winks.

"Smells nice too! She's lucky you decided to shower tonight," says a guy I don't know from across the table. He smiles teasingly. He's cute by traditional standards. Blue eyes and fluffy blonde hair. Big muscles.

"Oh, shut it, Brian!" Calla shoots back. She's rolling her eyes with a big grin. "No one cares that you have special smelling. No one else can smell my armpits anyway."

He sniggers, showing off perfectly straight, white teeth. "I can smell more than armpits, sweetheart. Now, why don't you introduce our newest addition?"

All the other conversations at the table were quiet. They all look at us. Calla drapes her arm around my shoulder and pulls me into her side.

"Everyone, meet Emery," she declares. "Emery, meet everyone. She's a baby dishwasher for the moment, but I bet ten bucks she'll be waiting tables by the end of next week!"

There's a roar of laughter and protests. I can't stop smiling like a fool. God, it feels so good to be surrounded by banter and fun again. I didn't realize how much I needed this.

Everyone says their name and conversations pick up again. The person on the other side of me, Deja, nudges my elbow with hers. I turn to her with another swallow of beer. My guts are buzzing and warm. I internally encourage the tipsy feeling.

"So," Deja says, playing with one of her thick braids, "where you from?" Her cornflower eyes study my face in a way that reminds me of myself.

"Savannah. Little ways from here." I chuckle lightly. "What about you? Are you from Lemley?"

She grips her martini glass and shakes her head. "That's a long drive down to Savannah. I have family there. But nah, I'm from Atlanta. I met a guy and he lived here, so I moved in. Needed to get away from home and all that."

"Gotcha. Do you like it here? It's a little different than Atlanta."

We talk about Lemley and Atlanta. Deja is nice, making real conversation with me. She's a hostess at the diner, but her shifts are all different than mine. By the end of the night, we exchanged phone numbers.

"Sometimes we have little parties at each others' places," she tells me. We're all signing our receipts or laying our cash for tips. "I'm gonna have one at my house next weekend. You should come."

"I'd love to. Thanks for hanging with me."

As we stand up, she hugs me. Her breasts press against mine. The vodka fumes rolling off her fills my nose. Something tingles in my stomach that isn't the alcohol.

"Enough of that," Calla playfully scorns. "Do I need to get you an Uber, Deja?"

The girl peels herself off me with a scowl. "Absolutely not. Parker is coming to get me."

"I thought you two were over?" asks Calla.

"We got back together. You know how it is." She hiccups. Her phone rings and she takes it, then waves us both goodbye as she stumbles to the door.

"Can you say t-o-x-i-c?" Calla rolls her eyes. "How are you feeling, dishie?"

Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I smile at her. "I just had two beers. I'll be fine. You want me to drop you off at home?"

Calla considers it. "Let me ask Brian. He lives next door."

It turns out Brian is even more hammered than Calla.

"I was gonna Uber," he says.

"I can take you both," I offer.

Brian nods. "Sounds good to me."

They pile into my Equinox and Calla immediately fiddles with the radio. She stops on a country station with a sigh of relief. They direct me to their neighborhood a few miles away. Brian blabs on in the backseat about the country band he's in and crooks drunkenly along with the radio songs. He's not bad.

Calla's house is first. It's small with an overgrown yard and mildewed fence. She stumbles out of the car and up her driveway. I wait until she's inside to drive off.

"Last one at the end of the street," Brian slurs. He leans onto my console, his stubbly cheek rubbing against my arm. We arrive just a few moments later. "You're welcome to come in for a drink."

"I think I'm good," I say with a chuckle.

He gets out but knocks on my window. I roll it down with a humored expression. Brian is very tall—well over six feet—so he nearly folds in half to fit his head inside the window. His eyes are unfocused as he looks at me.

"You're a little hottie, dishwasher," he tells me. "Not my mate, but I can still appreciate hotness. Are you sure you don't want to come inside?"

I want myself to want it. To want him. Any girl with good sense would think he's a show-stopper. But I don't feel a thing. No attraction, whatsoever.

"I appreciate the offer," I tell him sincerely, "but I'll pass."

He nods and pushes away from my car. "Get some rest. I'll see you Monday."

His stride is surprisingly sober as he moves up to his front door. Like with Calla, I wait until he's inside to shift into drive. But I wait a minute longer. Why can't I like men? Why did Deja's boobs make me feel all tingly? They're just boobs. I have boobs. Why should I want what I already have?

Sighing, I ease off the brake and steer myself out of the neighborhood.