Raised Mateless (On Hold)

Chapter 16

 

His heart-breaking smile was back in action, stretching across his lips in response. “You bet I do.”

 

“Ryan,” I whined. I gently slapped his arm, he only laughed, and then I slid my hand from his shoulder to his palm, linking his fingers through mine. His answering hand squeeze was all the reply I needed before I was pulling him out the door.

 

We walked in silence for the most part, listening to the sounds of chirping birds, the odd speeding car, and our own footsteps against the pavement. This was the benefit of having a mate, being able to say nothing – do nothing – and still be completely content with everything.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Ryan murmured, regarding me from the corner of his eye.

 

I sighed, tightening my grip on his hand, “Us.”

 

Ryan turned his head slightly towards me, a smirk prominent on his lips. “Since when are you the romantic type?”

 

“Since always!” I argued, feeling my lips form a childish pout. I may have not dressed up like a princess for two years like Vanessa when she was a toddler but that didn’t mean I wasn’t as obsessed with getting my happy ending.

 

Ryan had the nerve to snort and give me a disbelieving look. “You – a romantic? The girl who, in her first week of freshman year, kicked a dude in the balls for grabbing her ass?”

 

I rolled my eyes at his example – that kid had it coming. I didn’t bother with an answer, only followed Ryan down the concrete pathway.

 

The Peterson house was ridiculous; a giant white porch wrapped around the front, with massive white pillars holding up the front of the house – all three stories of it, and the whole thing was surrounding by an extravagant garden. It was no secret the Peterson’s held money, and a lot of it, they were the prime financial supporter for the Black Crescent Pack. A piece of information everyone believed to be the reason Gavin Peterson had practically handed the Delta position as third in command.

 

“Ryan, I’m nervous,” I whispered, grasped tightly at his hand. It was a rare day I went to high-school party, and this being a senior party had me shaking in my boots – well metaphorical boots.

 

My mate’s megawatt smile was out in full force as he looked at me, he started rubbing comforting circles on my palm with his thumb. “I’m right here, babe.”

 

I nodded, forcing a small smile onto my lips, as Ryan pulled me into the doorway. The floor was practically shaking from the booming music playing in the background, what sounded like The All-American Rejects, and the constant beat from dozens of people jumping up and down together. I looked closer and noticed not everyone was jumping up and down, some were actually falling over or swaying with a red solo cup in their hand.

 

“Shots!” Someone yelled, and the answering yells in encourage and joy was amazing. Everyone was drunk; drunk and proud.