Too Beautiful for the Alpha

Chapter 23

Maybe I've been dreaming because no situation has felt as real as this one does now. My heart won't

settle, my hands won't keep still, I have to take deep breaths every little bit to calm myself. It's only

dinner. We've dealt with many more nerve-racking things before, but for some reason, this one scares

me the most. It's the most normal. The most foreign to me.

I brush my hair while standing in front of the mirror in my cozy bathroom, stroking the dark strands as it

runs through. This seems to relax me. It's six thirty, and I heard someone walk down the hall a few

minutes ago. Assuming it was James, my mind keeps wandering to him, wondering what he's doing. I

think he's in the shower.

I set my brush down and leave the bathroom to change. My robe is wrapped tightly around me as I

rummage through the closet, already knowing what's in there, but looking as if new things have joined

the collection. My shaky fingers tug at dresses, nice pants, blouses, and pull down a few. I set them on

the bed to try things on. Before letting my robe drop to the floor, I close the shutters and lock the door.

First, I shimmy on a dress.

I check how I look in the mirror on the back of the door. It's silver and detailed and princess-like, but I

don't look like a princess in it. The dress is black and flowy, and much too short. If I bend down, I'll flash

my underwear, and if I reach up, I may just do the same. I switch to another dress, then another, then a

lilac blouse, then to a navy sweater.

I eventually admit to myself that I hate this, trying on clothes in an attempt to look attractive. That part

of me will never change.

This is all an unwanted flashback to times of getting ready for the gathering. The purple dress, the

whining, the fear, the gold dress, the stumbling, my mother's encouraging, and that bagging chest area

that was never filled out. Only this time I will be talking to a guy, which right now, makes it worse. I feel

like old Rae, wanting to stay in bed, reading a book under the yellow light of a lamp.

My eyes shoot to the clock once I realize I've been sitting on the floor for a while. It's five minutes to

seven. I have five minutes.

Naturally, I bring myself to a panic.

"I can't do this," I murmur, "I can't do this, I can't, I can't, I'm not," all while slipping on my pajamas and

throwing myself into my bed. "I can't. I can't." My eyes stare at the clock until the fifty-nine flashes to

two zeros, then they smack shut, squeezing all of the light out. My hands fist the covers before yanking

them over my head, wanting to be anywhere else.

I'm scared. I don't know how to act normal with him. It was all fun and games when we slept and kissed

and argued and hugged, but now it's just straight conversation. Getting to know each other, how we

eat, how we drink, how long I chew for before swallowing. Just us, alone, over food, which makes me

even more anxious. Food.

I remember when I was sixteen and chubby legged and cheeked, I remember the rules I had for

myself. No more than some obscure amount of calories and absolutely no foods that weren't guilt-free.

Yet, every food had guilt in it back then.

I wouldn't eat in front of my mother. I wouldn't look in the mirror for long periods of time. I would cry

because I wasn't them. It always comes back to them, right? Those girls. The girls like her, the green-

eyed girl. And she had him. She had James. He had her. He wanted her. That can't be denied.

Maybe he used her to distract himself from me as he says, but he still had her body. She was able to

give it to him. She knows—she knows that she's irresistible. She knows her hair is thick and soft, her

skin is smooth and unmarked, her body is lean and curved, her touch—I bet he loved it. I bet he did.

I want this to work, I really do, but I know that she's going to haunt me. She'll stride into his bedroom,

the girl I'll never be, and she'll seduce him with the qualities I'll never have.

How do I tell him that it will ruin things? How do I tell him that I'm scared to be vulnerable to him like

that?

I was wanting to sleep in his bed, but did I think about what's to come if I do?

A sudden knock strikes the door, and I flinch, my eyes returning to the clock as my heart jolts forward.

Twenty minutes past.

"Rae?" James' voice calls from the other side, making me freeze. "Dinner is ready. Do you need more

time?"

My lips open and close, open and close as I struggle to speak. "Uh... I—Well, I-I'm feeling a little

unwell. I just—I don't want to get anyone else sick." Coward. You're a coward, Rae. You go downstairs Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

and eat the lovely meal Gail put together right now!

"Do you need me to call a doctor?"

Goddess, now he sounds worried, perfect, Rae. Great job! Why are you like this? Why can't you just

get up and answer that damn door? Why do you hide away? Be strong, Rae. Tell him the truth, Rae.

Stop being pathetic, Rae.

My stomach begins to bubble up, my chest growing tight. "No," say with a shaky voice, "it's not..."

Come on, Rae. Come on!

The deep-rooted panic sets in now. It feels as if someone is shoving a towel down my throat.

"Rae? Will you open the door?"

She's shoving the towel down my throat.

Hesitantly, I unbury myself and walk to the door, placing my hand on the handle, really contemplating

this. I bite my lip hard before switching the lock and steadily inching it open, peeking out to look up at

him. I'm sure my cheeks are red and my pajamas look scrambled, but I let out a little smile. "Hi," I

mumble, wiping away all the encumbering thoughts that were tangled in my head just moments ago.

Some things get easier with time and practice.

James' eyes wander past me, finding the visible pile of clothes on the floor and scene of panic. I inch

the door closed, just enough space for my body. His eyes return to me.

"I just...couldn't find anything to—well, to wear so," I admit, knowing there's no point acting normal now.

"It's ridiculous, right? I'm sorry, I just—I don't know."

Something of a smile flashes on his face. "You're dressed now, aren't you?"

I glance down at my pajamas, feeling silly. "Well, yes, but—"

"Then come on, before the food gets cold."

Unsure, I stay in the doorframe until he turns and heads towards the stairs, catching up to him. "James,

I—"

He peers behind, having a perfect view of the mess I am, but he simply carries on. "It's only dinner,

Rae."

I follow him to the dining room, which I haven't been in much. Most of the time I ate with Gail and

Theresa in the kitchen, which was less worrying. They chatted about things going on around the pack

and would ask me questions every few exchanges. It was easy.

Two seats are set up on the table, plates and glasses and silverware and napkins and steaming food in

front of them. There is one spot at the head of the table and one to the side, and the dimmed

chandelier above sparkles down on it like a dream. Not wanting to sit at the head of the table, I choose

the much more comfortable seat and watch as James takes the other.

My heart won't settle. It feels as if something terrible is about to happen, and I predict it to be my

oncoming embarrassment.

I sit cross-legged, needing to feel more at home and stopping myself from bobbing my knee. The table

covers the childish action, not worrying me much, and I hesitantly take the fork in my hand, trying to

remember the position my fingers go in. It's steak and potatoes and grilled vegetables, and the aroma

clouds my nose.

Since I sat down, I haven't looked at James, but I hear movement from him. My eyes are stuck to my

plate, lifting bits of food to my mouth as a squirrel would eat. Nibbling. My hair creates a curtain

between us, but I feel the curtain being pulled back. I look up to James with a flushed face, my

fingernails pressing into my palm. "Are you alright?" He asks, looking rather relaxed.

I force a little smile along with a breathy laugh sort of sigh. "I'm fine."

"You look tense."

"I, uh—What will you be doing tomorrow?" I attempt, and he gives me a questioning look. "I've, um,

always wondered what Alphas do all day."

James' brows furrow. "Uh, well, I'll meet with Will in the morning and we'll talk with the commanding

guards, then we might head over to observe training before stopping by the border posts."

I nod, coming up with plans of my own. "That guard, Theodore... I want him to show me around the

pack."

"My personal guard Theodore?" James questions. "Why the specific request?"

"Well, I know him the most. I've been around him the most. He's nice to me. I don't know, I just prefer

him."

I assume James knows that Theodore's sister is the green-eyed girl, but I don't think he knows I do.

"Sure, then. I'll fetch him tomorrow."

It will be nice to know what's around me and where everything is, but I am more keen on confronting

her, his sister. There are things I need to know. Her ghost won't leave me until I get some kind of

closure, and I don't plan on living in a haunted house. "Great," I smile, forking some potatoes.

The conversation stays simple for the rest of dinner, and thankfully, no questions about the past are

asked. Once our plates are clear, Will comes out of nowhere and swipes James away, talking about

some rogue at the East border who greatly injured a guard. I stand and watch as they hurry out of the

house, eventually sighing and helping Gail clean up. "Is everything alright, you think?" I ask while

bringing the glasses from the table to the sink.

"I'm sure everything is fine. It is not too unusual, I'm afraid," she assures me while taking the glasses

from me.

"Is it normal...for him to leave a lot?" I say quietly.

"Well, he is the Alpha. I suppose that comes with many responsibilities."

I roll my eyes playfully at her sarcasm. "I know, I know."

After everything is cleaned up, I head upstairs and run a bath. I don't usually take baths, but something

has put me in the mood for one. Without bubble bath, I substitute in body wash and squeeze out the

gel as the faucet runs, watching as the bubbles grow and pile. I lower myself in and graze the bubbles

with my fingers, poking, and smashing them between my hands.

Light pours into the bathroom from the bedroom, giving me a romantic glow. There is a candle on the

counter, but I have no matches or lighter to light it, but this will do. I close my eyes and enjoy the

warmth, wanting to feel as relaxed as James was.

I think of him as the water caresses me. I wonder what he is doing. I wonder what he is thinking.

I hope he is thinking of me.