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Twenty-Four: Dangerous

Twenty-Four: Dangerous

Beau led Wren to the side of the club where all the seating was, flopping down on a leather padded bench and downing his drink in three large gulps. Wren watched nervously from the side, taking a seat next to him and hoping that Beau's alcohol tolerance was high. He sniffed dubiously at his own drink which was an odd neon blue color with sugar coating the rim. It smelled like berries, but Wren knew the deceptively sweet smell was probably concealing an alcohol content high enough to get him buzzed after one glass.

He took a sip, was pleasantly surprised at how smooth it went down, and took another, only looking up again when Beau heaved an aggrieved sigh.

"What a fucking asshole!" he exclaimed to no one in particular, venting his anger and stomping a foot hard into the ground. Wren frowned.

"Why is he your mortal enemy?" he asked. If anything, the man had seemed more like a suitor than a bully. Clearly there was something else going on, but Wren felt that despite whatever hatred Beau held for him, the man didn't return that hate.

"It's a long story," Beau said through gritted teeth, "but to keep it simple: I tried to flirt with him once and he turned me down – which, fine, whatever, no big deal, right? It stings in the moment, but I move on, no hard feelings. You're not always going to get a home run. Sometimes you swing and you miss – that's life."

Beau took a deep breath, closing his eyes and drawing a hand down in front of his face, like he was searching for some sort of calm.

"But this bastard was apparently so offended by my attempts to woo him that now he shows up all the time – usually right as I'm trying to score with some other alpha – and fucks it up. He scares them all away, which, by the way, sorry about his intimidation thing just now. He must have thought you were my most recent conquest. But he knows I only date alphas, so thankfully he backed off once he found out you were an omega. Still – what fucking right does he have to think he can screw me over like that? He rejected me! Like, what the hell?"

Wren contemplated this silently. He wasn't really the best person to decipher romantic motivations, but he was pretty sure the alpha had some sort of romantic interest in Beau. Unless he really was just really good at holding a grudge and took Beau's flirting with him as some sort of slight.

But if he was interested in Beau, why reject him in the first place? And even if he regretted rejecting him, why not just apologize and ask him out instead?

Wren took another sip of his drink. So much drama. Wren didn't know how Beau found the energy for it. Although, Beau's attitude towards flirting and dating was surprisingly moving to Wren, and not just because of the baseball terminology he'd used to frame it.

He was so worried about this whole Entanglement with Vincent, worried that Vincent didn't have any actual interest in him, that once the Entanglement was over, they would go back to being complete strangers and never see each other again.

But what was the use in worrying about it? If this fake Entanglement turned into something more, great. If it failed, it failed. Sometimes, you swing and you miss.

That's life.

Suddenly feeling a bit lighter, Wren sat back against the bench, taking a larger sip. Suddenly the music of the club wasn't quite so grating to the senses, the pheromone soup around him no longer so overwhelming. Although, he wasn't sure if that was due to his revelation, or the alcohol kicking in.

Beau set aside his empty glass on a nearby table, swiping Wren's out of his hand as well before grabbing Wren by the arm to heave him off the bench. Wren looked at his abandoned drink in dismay, but didn't have any time to protest as Beau dragged him to the dance floor. Now that he was leaving it unattended, he wouldn't be able to finish it for fear of someone putting something in it. Oh well.