Finally Her Turn

Chapter 11: Marissa

I change my mind and then back again no fewer than ten times on the way over to Aly’s, and then a couple more as I trek up the stairs and down the hall to her apartment. There’s something unsettling about the quiet of the hallway. It’s that kind of quiet where you can hear things going on behind the walls and closed doors of the apartments, but it’s all muffled and creates a strange sort of ominous white noise.

Once I’ve finally made it to her door, I stand there taking deep breaths and struggling to convince myself to just do it and get it over with until my hand finally reaches out and forms into a fist so that I can knock on the door.

Two quick raps with my knuckles, and then all I have to do is stand and wait until someone answers. To my surprise, it’s Devon.

“Who’s there?” he calls through the door without opening it.

“Marissa,” I answer, wondering whether admitting that is going to be what makes them decide against even opening the door.

Aly may have picked me to stand with her during the “private” portion of her meeting, but that doesn’t mean she’ll want to see me for anything unofficial. Even so, I hear the door being unlocked, and Devon opens it for me a few seconds later, motioning for me to come in.

“Hey,” I greet him, suddenly realizing just how awkward this is going to be as I glance around and see Aly and her blonde mate along with their guards all gathered here. Which means I have an audience.

“I, uh, I just wondered if I could talk to you, Aly,” I tell her, still standing awkwardly just inside the door on the little spot of tile in the sea of beige carpet.

“Yeah, of course,” she quickly agrees, sounding almost excited about it.

She gets up from the couch and gestures down the hall, to my relief. That means she wants to go somewhere private, and I won’t have to talk to her in front of everyone in the other room. I follow her all the way down the hall, passing the kitchen and what I assume is a bedroom, though the door is closed so I suppose it could also just be a closet. At the end, there are two more doors, both open, and she takes me into the bedroom on the left.

I can tell just from the mixture of scents in here that this is the one she shares with her mates, although I can only guess at how that works. It’s only a queen bed, and her mates are both big guys. Do they sleep on top of each other?

Ugh. Yuck. I don’t even care, so I shouldn’t even be thinking about it and putting images in my head that I really don’t want to see. It’s weird enough just being alone with her, and what I’ve come to ask her has me wishing I’d just stayed in bed this morning.

It’s not until she’s suddenly trying to hug me that I realize I’ve been chewing my nails again. She catches me with my fingers in my mouth, and I have to move quickly to get my arm out of the way. It’s a disgusting habit that I hate, and I’m constantly trying to break it. But the problem with a habit is that it happens automatically, and I barely ever actually catch myself doing it. The evidence is all over my ragged fingernails though.

But this whole hugging thing is far more concerning. Why in the heck would she do that? What game is she playing with me now? Oh wait, I bet it’s whatever her mate told her about me. She’s jumped on the pity train now. Damn it.

But weirdly, after a few seconds of standing there hoping that she’ll get it out of her system and let me go, it actually starts to feel kind of good. I don’t remember the last time someone has hugged me like this. Tasha has tried little side hugs and quick, excited embraces that are over before she even realizes that I never hugged her back because it just makes me uncomfortable, but she’s never done what Aly is doing. My dad used to when I was little, when he wasn’t screaming and beating on me, but even he hasn’t bothered since before I even started going to school.

And she’s still not letting go. Should I hug her back maybe? I bring my arms up and give it a try, but quite honestly, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do with them. I also don’t know if that’s something I’m allowed to do to the Alpha’s daughter.

Once she finally lets me go, I can’t help asking, “What was that for?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I just felt like it, I guess. It’s been a hell of a day for us both.”

That’s an understatement. I guess I can appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not really a hugger. I mean, maybe I kind of liked it for a second, but mostly it just made an awkward situation turn downright uncomfortable. But whatever, Aly comes from a family of huggers, and maybe that’s just how she’s been taught to deal with stress. Maybe it was more for her than for me, which wouldn’t surprise me in the least.

I notice a desk over by the bed and decide to head over there and sit down before she gets any other bright ideas. And if I just keep standing here, I’m going to start wiggling around or pacing or something stupid like that. I’d rather sit for this.

She watches me settle in at the desk, this strangely intrigued and concerned look on her face the whole time, until finally she asks, “So, what’s on your mind, Rissy?”

That catches me off-guard, and I can’t help laughing through my nose for a second. She hasn’t called me that since like kindergarten, back when we first met and I thought we were going to be friends. I don’t know what it means that she’s suddenly brought it out now, though.

But I won’t let it keep me from getting to the point of why I’m here. I’d prefer if we could do it without all this touchy-feely, warm fuzzy stuff, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“It’s, uh, well, it’s kind of a personal thing,” I start trying to lead into what I need to ask.

“Okay, I’m listening,” she says as if she was expecting this.

And that kind of bothers me. I don’t like that she seems to think that I’m here to have a besties heart-to-heart with her now that her mate dug around in my head and she thinks she knows everything there is to know about me. That urge to just abort this whole thing is coming up again, and I sit and stare at my chewed off fingernails for a moment trying to convince myself to stay.

Aly sits herself across from me on the bed, and I haven’t decided whether that makes this more comfortable or less by the time that she starts talking.

“Are you worried about what Matt saw last week? It was nothing bad, at least not about you. He actually helped clear up a lot of misunderstandings.”

Pretty much what I suspected. She thinks this is about that. I’m kind of curious about what “misunderstandings” she thinks there were between us, but not curious enough to ask. I don’t want to know what he saw.

“We can talk about it if you want, but we don’t have to,” she continues going on about what she thinks I’m here for. “I’m willing to leave it at simply telling you that I don’t harbor any negativity toward you, but I do wish I had tried harder to be your friend earlier on. I can’t help that now, though, so I’d really like to just put it all behind us and move forward with a clean slate.”

Okay, wow. She doesn’t harbor any negativity toward me? What possible reason would she have for that anyway? It was her that … actually, I should just tell her what I’m thinking since she’s so desperate to have this conversation.

“I … I don’t know. I guess I have never been able to figure out why you hated me so much or how to fix it, so it doesn’t make any sense for you to say you regret not trying to be my friend. And I don’t know if I can just let that go. You don’t know what it was like, or how badly I needed your friendship,” I tell her, and I’m kind of impressed with myself for it.

I’m scared of how she’ll take it, though, and in fact, I can’t even bring myself to look at her for any clues about that.

“You’re right that I didn’t know then. I had no idea that your dad was so cruel to you, quite honestly, and I feel like an i***t for not seeing it sooner. But you know something? You didn’t understand me, either. I didn’t hate you, and at first, I quite liked you. I wanted to be your friend, but every time I tried to talk to you and include you in whatever I was doing with my other friends, it seemed to make you uncomfortable. I remember the way you would stand there blushing and seeming mortified and embarrassed that I was drawing attention to you, and I felt horrible about that. I thought it would be better if I left you alone because it seemed to be what you wanted. But then, suddenly, you started getting confrontational with me. Adversarial almost. I never could figure out what I did to make you hate me so much, other than unintentionally embarrassing you, but it seemed like my best option was to continue avoiding you as much as I could. But I swear, Marissa, there was never any malicious intent behind it. I never told my dad to exclude you from anything, you were always invited to anything going on at the packhouse no matter what your dad told you, and the whole time, I would have much preferred being your friend.”

“Okay, wow,” is all I can manage to say as I take in that whole dump truck bucketful of information.

First, that she remembers our interactions so differently than I do. Is it possible that there’s some truth to what she’s saying … my dad has always been the first to point out how awkward I can be and blame that for why I’m so good at pushing people away. Maybe I did scare her off. I find it interesting that she seems to think that ignoring me was doing me any favors though.

And if I ever did get confrontational, it was mostly because I wanted her to like me. I needed her attention, and it bothered me to tears that she wouldn’t even look my way after a point. I always had to go home and face the wrath of Owen, and it always felt like she could have saved me from a lot of that just by being friendlier or extending me even just one invitation to something. Anything that I could have taken home to prove that she liked me would have made all the difference.

But if what she’s saying about my dad is true, then really, being friends with her wouldn’t have changed anything. He always seemed to gauge how successful I was at cozying up to the Alpha’s daughter by whether he was invited to events at the packhouse, and if I was already invited and he never bothered to tell me that, then nothing I could have done would have fixed it.

And then it occurs to me that I’m not even here to talk about all this, and if I sit here and let her take me down this rabbit hole, then I’ll never get a chance to ask her about John. Besides, I kind of hate that she knows all this stuff about me and my dad now. That’s exactly what I was afraid of, and I don’t want to sit here talking about it with her. Or with anyone, ever.

“That’s some power your mate has,” is all I can think of to say, even giving my best effort to laugh it off so we can be done with it and get on to the main event. Since I mentioned her mate, I decide to use that to change the topic, adding, “I, um, I have a mate now too.”

There, now it’s out. Well, kind of. But that’s the scariest part because she might tell me to pack my things and go home any second now that she knows that. And weirdly, I can feel myself blushing.

“I know, and I’m so happy for you, Marissa. John seems like a sweet guy,” she tells me, to my absolute shock.

How did she already know? I haven’t said a word to anyone, not even Tasha.

“How did you know that?” I decide to just ask her.

Oh, but wait. John sat with them at lunch, and he probably isn’t worried about losing his job over it like I am, so I'm guessing he told them then.

“Oh, I guess he probably told you or your mate. They did seem pretty chummy.”

“No, he didn’t give specifics,” she claims. “He mentioned he had just found his mate, but he didn’t say who. I figured it out because I saw how he was looking at you and it clicked in my head that he meant you.”

“Wait, what do you mean how he was looking at me? How was he looking at me?” I demand to know.

I mean, I saw him looking at me too, but he was fairly discreet about it. Besides, Aly should have been too preoccupied with her presentation thing to notice what was going on over in my corner.

She pats my arm, and I look down at where she’s touching me in disbelief. This whole interaction is starting to feel surreal. Maybe it’s just a dream, and I really haven’t even gotten out of bed today. Oh Goddess, please don’t tell me that I have to live this day over again.

“Relax, it wasn’t bad. Quite the opposite, actually,” she attempts to reassure me. “He was looking at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world, the way all mates seem to look at each other. I see my parents look at each other like that, and Ryan looks at Mindy like that. You’ve probably even seen my mates look at me like that. It’s ‘the look,’ the one that means your mate is into you.”

When did this happen? I mean, I was standing close enough to see him, and I never saw him look like that at all.

“Yeah, it’s true,” she insists. “Shake your head and deny it all you want, but I saw it. It was how I knew he was your mate. I do feel bad that it had to happen today of all days, though. I’m sure you didn’t get much of a chance to talk to him.”

I guess I didn’t even realize that I was shaking my head, but I probably was. I just can’t believe any of this. But she did figure out who my mate was, so I guess there’s that. And yeah, finding my mate today of all days just goes to show how rotten my luck tends to be.

“Try none,” I retort, even knowing it isn’t the full truth.

I didn’t talk to him, but there were some opportunities where I could have, if I wasn't so worried about losing my job. And maybe it had a little bit to do with me just not knowing how to talk to him or how to go about hanging out with a complete stranger, mate or not.

“I mean, I guess I could have talked to him at lunch, but I don’t know how to do that stuff,” I add, because I’m sure she’s wondering why I didn’t sit with him when I had the chance, the way she would have.

Because that’s how she and her friends are. Confident, always knowing the right things to say to people. Ugh, speaking of her friends.

“I’m sure you know that, though. I’m sure your buddy Ryan has told you what a fool I made of myself with him,” I remind her, dredging up my embarrassing history even though there’s no reason for it.

But sitting here with her has me all over the place, thinking of all that’s happened between us over the years and second-guessing everything that happened today. I still can’t seem to accept that John was as interested as she claims, either, and it has me feeling unsettled. I know there are emotions brewing just below the surface, and it’s taking everything in me to fight them back.

“It’s different with your mate,” she tells me, her voice getting all gentle and motherly for a moment. “I mean, yeah, you can still make a fool of yourself. I know I certainly have with my mates, but your mate will probably find it endearing. Charming, even.”

Charming? Me? I almost want to laugh at that because of how ridiculous it seems. She forgets that I’m not her. People find her charming even when she messes up, but not me.

“Yeah, when you’re Alyssa Bentley that might be true,” I point out, realizing part of the way through that it sounds kind of bitter. I inhale a sharp breath before adding in a much more neutral tone, “But me, I mean, if I even just open my mouth people start to hate me.”

“Says who? Your dad? He’s full of bull. He’s a bitter, angry old man and doesn’t want anyone to be happy since he can’t seem to find a way out of his miserable, drunken stupor. People don’t hate you on sight no matter what he’s told you. And I promise you John liked you. I saw it. Do you know when I noticed him giving you that silly lovesick look? When you were talking. He likes you, Rissy.”

She lets me sit with that for a minute, and then there’s a knock at the door and she gets up to let her quiet mate in. They’re hugging and talking about something that I don’t understand and isn’t my business as I’m still processing what she just said to me.

She has a point about my dad, I suppose. It has been a struggle for me to start sifting through all the things he’s said to me over the years and figuring out which parts are true and which are just the rantings of a miserable drunk, like she said. But the part about John is what really gets me. The only time I talked the whole day was when that Elder lady called me out in front of everyone. That’s the part he liked?

“No, I just need you,” Aly’s mate tells her kind of desperately.

Though I haven't been paying attention to their conversation to know what he's talking about, I can tell that it seems like he’s about to fall apart about something. He’s the one I like, and it’s kind of heartbreaking to see him like that. If he needs his mate, then I should probably just excuse myself and go sort out my issues on my own.

“I should probably go,” I tell them, intending to do just that.

“You don’t have to, and I didn’t mean to interrupt. I know you guys have a lot to talk about,” shy guy, I think his name is Matt, says apologetically.

“No, I think we’re good. I just came for one thing, really,” I explain hurriedly. “So, uh, on that topic, did one of you by chance get John’s number before we left? Or do you know which pack he’s from or anything?”

He and Aly turn and look at each other, and as soon as their eyes meet, they both say, “Tyler,” and start laughing about it.

I don’t get the joke, and this is exactly the disgusting, mushy, couply stuff that I was just telling that Elder woman about, but I’m not as annoyed this time as I usually am. It’s actually kind of funny.

“He gave Tyler his number,” Aly explains once they’ve gotten the giggles out of their systems. “I’m sure John will want you to have it and it might even be why he insisted on giving it to Tyler, but let’s go have Tyler text him and make sure it’s okay.”

The blonde one. I figured as much, though I kind of wish it was Matt with his number. Tyler makes me uncomfortable, mostly because he’s the worst one for the gag-worthy romantic gestures. And he’s always touching Aly, like nonstop. It’s weird, and I really hope John isn’t like that.

After one last kiss for the happy couple, Matt seems to be staying in the bedroom as Aly starts to lead me back to the living room. She reaches back and grabs my hand, just another thing to add to the list of weird surprises from her today. But I decide to allow it because all this touchy-feely stuff seems important to her.

Oh man. I wonder if that’s why she ended up with such an affectionate mate. On second thought, he’s perfect for her.

Devon is out there with Tyler when we make it back to the living room, and I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks again knowing that Devon is watching us while Aly is still holding my hand. But it turns out that Tyler is even worse.

“Should I be worried?” he questions Aly teasingly, pointing out how she’s holding my hand.

And that does it for me. I’m all done with the touchy-feely stuff, and yank my hand away from her. I’ve really been trying to play nice with her, but if she tries to touch me again, I can’t promise how I might react.

She takes on that irritating lovey-dovey tone that she gets with him and goes over to sit in his lap, rifling around in his pants pockets. I have to admit that I’m kind of impressed by that bit. Having that level of comfort with someone is something I never even would have imagined if I hadn’t seen it in person.

They tease and play back and forth a bit, and then she produces his phone from his pocket.

“I need you to text John and make sure he’s okay with you giving his number to Marissa,” she explains, holding out the phone to him.

He seems surprised but pleased by that, and turns my way to grin at me. I’ve never looked him in the face before, and I’m actually a bit startled to see how much he looks like his brother, mostly in the eyes.

“You got it,” he agrees, still grinning. He takes the phone and immediately sets about sending that text.

Aly invites me to come and sit to wait for a response, and as much as I don’t want to get too cozy with them, I also don’t want to keep standing here shifting around uncomfortably. There’s enough space that I can sit between them and Devon without having to get cuddly with either of them, so I do.

And then we sit and wait. And wait. Aly keeps trying to convince me that it doesn’t mean anything that John hasn’t answered, but all she succeeds in convincing me of is that she’s worried that it does mean something. I mean, maybe she’s right that he’s still on duty with his Elder uncle, who is apparently named Elder Benjamin according to her, but I’m still kind of done sitting and waiting here with them.

It’s humiliating, and regardless of how Aly knows about my dad now, we’re still not friends, no matter how many times she tries to hold my hand. Now I’m just left wanting to get away from her and her perfect mates.

“I appreciate you trying anyway, and for inviting me in and, you know, talking and stuff,” I finally tell her, starting to get up from the couch. “I think I’m going to head out, though. You guys have a good night.”

“Marissa,” she calls to me in that tone I hate. Her voice is dripping with pity, and it just makes me want to leave even more. “Stay for dinner. Maybe he’ll get a break around then and be able to respond.”

“Thanks, but I’ll just get something at the hotel.”

No matter how reassuring and supportive she's trying to be, I'm just not interested. I want to head back and finally be alone for the first time all day, and suffer this agony without an audience.

“Okay, I’ll text you as soon as we hear something,” she promises, and I believe her.

She probably will text me, although I don’t know how I’ll be feeling about it all by then. It kind of feels like whatever courage I had is gone now, and I’ve changed my mind about even wanting to talk to John anymore.

It’s not your decision, Audra chimes in angrily. Not only yours anyway. If you don’t want to talk to him, then just let me do it.

Oh yeah, that’s right. Giving up isn’t an option. My wolf finally decided to participate today.

That’s not even fair, she complains as I’m making my way back down the stairs and heading in the direction of the exit to the parking lot.

It doesn't take me long to get in my borrowed vehicle and zoom out of there, headed back to the hotel. I’m just pulling into one of the parking spaces we've claimed for our rentals when my phone chirps with an incoming text. My heart starts racing all on its own anticipating what it could mean. It could be Aly, though whether that's a good or a bad thing remains to be seen.

Once I’m parked and just about ready to head into the hotel, I decide that I can’t wait until I get back to my room before reading that text, especially since I heard another one come in right after it. I pull out my phone and wake it up to see that both of my new messages are from Aly. She’s forwarded me a screenshot of a text message, pointing out John's name and number on the top, and her second message begs me to “please, please, please text him right away before he has to go back in with the Elders” and I miss my chance.

Then I flip back to the first message, finally allowing myself to read over what John said to Tyler.

I was planning to text you about that right about now. It’s finally break time, and these guys are still going at their deliberations. I can’t tell you anything about that, but I can tell you that I wanted nothing more than to be able to run after you guys once you were dismissed. It killed me just letting her leave like that. I never even got a chance to talk to her! So, yes. Please, please, please give her my number, and tell her to text me straightaway. I can’t wait!

Oh, so that’s where she got the “please, please, please” thing from. I mean, I guess he does seem kind of enthusiastic about talking to me, which would support Aly’s theory about him being legitimately interested in me.

I know she’s probably waiting for my response, but I don’t know what to say, so I just open the smiley face thing that has a whole menu of emojis and pick out the ones that seem to fit and send that to her. I think she gets the point that I’m nervous but kind of excited about this.

But the problem is that not only do I not know what to say to Aly, but I especially do not know what to say to John. Would it be weird to tell Aly to give him my number instead? I’m kicking myself because I should have done that to begin with. What was I thinking?

Let me do it, Audra insists again.

And call me crazy, but that actually seems like the best idea considering that there’s a limited amount of time before my window to talk to him closes again.

Be my guest, I tell her, already releasing my hold and letting her push her way forward. This is a first for her.

She picks up my phone and opens the message from Aly again, copying the name and number over to a new contact. She even adds a couple hearts before and after his name, which I’m definitely changing once it’s me in charge again. Then she opens a new text window and starts typing.