Chapter 21

Twenty-One

IZZY

I don’t see Reid during the first hour of my shift, but I know he’s here. I can sense him.

A strange heat permeates the air and burrows its way into my chest, finding a home there.

The theater isn’t overly busy, but there’s a steady stream of people entering and leaving. At one point, Silas comes out to work the register while I scoop popcorn and grab drinks.

“Enjoy the movie,” I tell an older couple as they hobble away.

Finally, the lobby is empty. The only sound is the popping of corn and the air conditioning unit up above.

I see him a second before he sees me. He stands opposite me in the lobby, a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other.

Reid.

His red hair is greasy, making the color appear darker, like garnet. Even from this distance, I can see the acne dotting his forehead and cheeks.

Reid is an enigma, one I can’t figure out. He’s gruff and broody and downright rude at times, yet he can be fiercely protective.

And, apparently, he’s my fated mate.

I try to reconcile the Reid in front of me to the one I saw in the photograph from the year before. That Reid had been grinning brightly, his skin clear, his hair luminous, his eyes shining.

Rumor has it, Reid broke up with his ex-girlfriend, Michelle, and…let himself go. Stopped caring. Stopped trying. He no longer showered and rarely washed his clothes. I met Michelle once before. She was a cute girl with perfectly straight black hair, lightly tanned skin, and almond-colored eyes. I could see why Reid was obsessed with her.

Correction—I can see why Reid is still obsessed with her.

Yet another “mate” in love with a girl who isn’t me.

At least Reid never led me on.

I snort and roll my eyes, turning away from him to focus on wiping down the counter.

But he doesn’t seem to get the hint. I hear his footsteps a second before his heat seeps through my shirt, enveloping me in warmth. Prickles of awareness spread across my skin. Goose bumps form.

“You know,” Reid says matter-of-factly, his gruff voice rolling over me like a cold ocean wave.

Apparently we’re having this conversation…

“What do I know?” I throw the rag over my shoulder and spin around, my hands on my hips.

He’s so close I can see the tiny bend in his nose—a product, I’m sure, of it being broken one too many times. A strand of greasy hair falls forward, and he pushes it away with the back of his hand. He gives me a look. You know the type.

Don’t be stupid, girl.

It immediately causes my hackles to rise.

“That you’re a wolf shifter and apparently my mate? Yeah, I know.” I fold my arms over my chest, watching his reaction carefully.

He doesn’t wince the way I expect him to, nor does his face flash with guilt. He simply watches me with the same acute intensity as I watch him.

“Someone’s been chatty,” he grumbles at last, turning away from me to sweep the floor.

My stomach flips as I stare at him incredulously. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me?”

He doesn’t bother to turn around. “I never lied to you, Izzy, and I never led you on.”

All of that is true, but…

“You beat up Grayson!” I snap, my nerves fraying.

Reid arches one eyebrow in my direction. “Because I thought he was a murderer.”

“He’s not!”

“Debatable.”

“Reid…” My voice lowers to a growl.

Reid blows out a breath, that one single noise rife with irritation, and then spins around. He leans against his broom as he studies me. For a long moment, he’s silent, his gaze traveling over my face in a way that makes me want to blush.

“Sorry for beating up your friend,” he says at last, already turning away.

Once again, I blink at his back, at a loss for words. “That’s it?”

“What do you want from me, Izzy?” The words are almost a whisper, but they cause me to pause. Frown.

What do I want from him?

What do I want from any of them?

I got an explanation—or at least, a version of one.

Do I want them to confess their undying love for me? Of course not. Do I want to be their mate or whatever? No.

So what do I want?

I flounder to come up with an adequate answer, and Reid takes my silence as some kind of confirmation. He returns to his task with a harsh scowl, one that makes him look even scarier than before.

“Don’t worry about me. I won’t be pursuing the mating bond or any of that shit,” he grumbles.

“You won’t?”

Do I feel relief or disappointment at his statement?

What the hell is wrong with me?

“I won’t,” he confirms gruffly. And then, in a voice that’s nearly inaudible, he adds, “You don’t want me as a mate.”

“I don’t even know what that means.” I throw my hands up, but since I’m still holding the rag, it goes flying in the air, hooking on one of the rafters above.

For a long, long moment, I simply stare at the wet rag high above me. Shock holds me immobile.

Then a slightly hysterical laugh bubbles in my chest.

I hold my stomach as giggles bombard me.

Reid stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind before he, too, begins to chuckle. It’s amazing the difference that sweeps over him. With his eyes shining the way they are, and his full lips twisted in a smile, he almost looks…handsome.

The sight stalls the breath in my lungs, and my laughter dissipates.

Reid stops laughing as well.

We stare at each other. The air between us charges with electricity. I can feel it crackling just underneath my skin. My heart pounds against my rib cage.

Reid opens his mouth, but whatever he’s about to say is interrupted by the door to the theater opening and the bell overhead jingling. We both turn as a familiar girl prances inside, wearing a short white skirt and a pink blouse. Her eyes home in on Reid like two heat-seeking missiles, and a hungry, possessive smile lights up her face.

Michelle.

And just like that, my good mood evaporates.

Fuck.