WHO? | The Alpha (Book One)

VIII

George

"I don't think I have to," I answer while putting some pasta on his plate.

Two days passed, and I get better. Jared suggests that I should go in for a check-up. He sits at the opposite side of the table and watches what I'm doing.

"Well," he shrugs. "It's still up to you. I'm just suggesting."

"Here," I hand him the plate.

"I should be the one doing this. I'm the babysitter here."

He complains, but he eats the carbonara I cooked. We eat silently for a moment when my phone rings.

"Hm..." he pauses and stares at his plate. His fork pause halfway to twirling the pasta.

"Why?" I ask.

I taste my food. "I don't have authentic Italian ingredients. Yours doesn't taste like this. How did you do that?"

I watch him. He sniffs the food before eating.

"Not bad," he says. "Just don't call this carbonara."

"What is that supposed to make me feel?" I roll my eyes.

A vibration on the table interrupts our bickering. The two of us stare at my phone. 

'Unregistered number.'

"Excuse me," I say and grab my phone.

I stand up before answering the call. "Hello?"

"Where are you?"

I frown, "Who is this?"

"Awww...you deleted my number?"

My eyes widen, realizing who it is. "Drew? Oh, I'm–hi. Why did you call?"

Jared looks at me and sits up straight, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at my apartment. Why?"

"Okay. Let's meet," he ends the call.

"Why?" I whisper in confusion.

I hurriedly finish my food and clean the table.

"You're in a hurry?" Jared asks. He crosses his legs. "Is that your boyfriend?" he asks monotonously.