Working at Crystal Hollow’s (only) grocery store, if it could be called a grocery store, had its ups and downs. His coworkers were fine. They left him alone for the most part unless they were bored like today. Then, they wanted to talk.

Ana was sitting on the stool at the bagging area of the cash register, Vincent was at the register itself, and Todd was leaning against register two. Todd and Ana had been dating for three months, and they were both older than Vincent by four years. For the most part, they spared Vincent his own boredom, and for that he was grateful. Today, though, today was a harrowing conversation.

“So, you ran out because… you saw nothing? Like everybody else?” said Ana, sipping her convenience store drink. She always came into her shift with one, usually Dr. Pepper mixed with a splash of Big Red.

“Look, I guess the pressure of being watched by all those people got to me,” said Vincent, casting his eyes to the floor. He didn’t want to keep up this lie anymore, but word of his hasty exit from the mating ceremony had spread like a brushfire. He was just trying to batten down the flames.

“So, you made a spectacle of yourself instead,” said Ana. “Smart. You really know how to win ‘em over, tiger.”

“Shut up.”

Todd had been quiet throughout the conversation, chewing on the dip he’d stuck between his teeth. Now, he pulled out an old napkin and spat into it, tossing the napkin into the trash can below register two, and said, “You’re an odd bird, Weatherstone.”

“Thank you, Todd. I try my best,” Vincent countered.

The grocery doors swooshed open. They all turned to look at who dared interrupt their withering conversation. Misha Agapov glided inside, nose tucked into a book. She didn’t even bother to look up until Vincent said, “Hi, Misha.”

Only then did she snap her book shut. She eyed him and cocked her hip to the side. “Vincent,” she said, “I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh boy,” Todd muttered under his breath.

“If it’s sex, he’s not interested,” said Ana.

“Ana, shut up, would you?” Vincent hissed.

“Well, you’re not,” Ana said, shrugging. She sipped her drink again.

Misha ignored them and walked right up to the register. He could see the title of her book: The Moon’s Gravity. He wondered what kind of book it was, but it looked like a romance. A queer romance. “No, it is not sex. In fact, it will never be sex. I saw no one in my vision. No blurry figures, no shadows, no nothing. That is my proposition. I tell you, as I already have, what I saw in my vision, and you tell me what you saw in yours,” she said.

“You shouldn’t have just told me. What if I don’t accept your proposition and refuse to tell you?” Vincent said. He itched to tell someone, though, anyone. And Misha would be the best to spill to; she kept to herself and was about as weird and queer as Vincent and Whitney were.

“I don’t think you’ll disagree.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you and I are cut from the same cloth, so to speak. I am obviously asexual, and you are as gay. Did I miss anything?”

Ana snorted.

Vincent cut a glare at her, but she avoided his sharpened look. He turned back to Misha. “Look, Misha, I appreciate you telling me, but this is a secret-secret,” he said. “It can’t get out. If it gets out… I don’t know, it could just be…” It could just ruin my tenuous relationship with my best friend from childhood. “It could be bad,” he finished lamely.

“I will not tell anyone,” Misha said. “That is my promise.”

“Fine, but you two have to leave,” Vincent said, pointing to Ana and Todd.

They shared a look, communicating silently, and then stood up as a unit and wandered down the canned food aisle, their hands gliding together. They were disgustingly romantic for small town folk, and Vincent hated them.

He glanced at Misha, his secret on the tip of his tongue. He had to tell someone. Not just Whitney. Whitney was great, and she would keep his secret, but this was burning a hole inside him like a lit cigarette butt. This was eating him alive. “You have to promise not to tell another living breathing person. Or dead person. Or half-alive person,” he said.

“I have already promised that I will not,” Misha said, her voice firm.

Vincent believed her. Part of him was screaming to keep his mouth shut, but the other part—the part that needed to tell someone who was not just his best friend—was much, much louder. Maybe he wanted this to get back to Ky somehow. If he did, Misha was not the person to tell. But he leaned toward her anyway and whispered, “Ky.”

“I knew it,” she said simply. Then, she collected a grocery basket from the front of the store and opened her book again, heading down the produce aisle without a single glance back.

***

Hey

That was the text Vincent received from Ky fifteen minutes before the end of his shift. He tried not to text back immediately, his fingers prickling from the need to respond. His heart galloped in his chest, thundering blood in his ears. He reached his car and settled into it before replying, Hi!

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

He had deleted and retyped the exclamation mark multiple times, trying to decide if that was too clingy or not. He decided on not, but the moment he sent it, he wished he could take it back. He could edit it, but Ky would see that he had edited it and wonder just what Vincent was trying to hide. So he stuck by his mistake.

By the time he pulled into his driveway, he was nearly sweating from not checking his phone. He had laid it face down in the passenger seat and turned up his 2000s dad rock playlist as loud as it would go. He practically dove for his phone after he’d parked, and a response was sitting there, waiting for him.

When are we doing movie night?

Oh God, he’d almost forgotten they’d talked about that. Well, not forgotten but convinced himself in the dead of night yesterday that Ky had only suggested that to spare Vincent’s feelings. He hadn’t actually wanted to do that, but here Ky was, texting him about it. Maybe he really did want to do it.

I don’t know. When are you free? I work Wednesday-Saturday, 9 in the morning to 5 in the evening.

Ky read the message immediately. What did that mean? Vincent wondered. Those three cursed dots appeared on the screen, hovered and blinked, and then disappeared. Vincent couldn’t bear the suspense.

As soon as he slipped his phone into his pocket, it started vibrating. He took it out, frowning, wondering who the hell could be calling him. He stopped dead when he saw the caller ID.

Ky. Why was Ky calling him?

He slid the button over and put the phone to his ear. “Hello? Are you dying?” he said, trying to sound lighthearted but it came out way more serious than he thought it would. He winced, glad Ky couldn’t see him.

“What about tonight?” Ky asked, ignoring Vincent’s stupid question.

“Tonight? Tonight what?”

“Movie night. You know, the thing we were just texting about.”

Fucking duh.

“Oh,” said Vincent, nearly dropping his keys as he pulled them out of the ignition. He fumbled with them, cursing softly.

“Is that a good or a bad oh?”

“Neither. Both.” Vincent scrambled out of his car. “I need to shower. I just got off work, but yeah, that—that would be fine. Let me—let me clear it with my mom really quick and then I’ll call you back?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

Vincent hung up quickly before Ky could hang up. He didn’t think he could stand it if Ky hung up first, leaving him washed away in the possibility again that Ky didn’t like him the same way. That the mating ceremony had been just a figment of Vincent’s imagination, nothing more.

He ran into the kitchen where his mom was putting silverware in the dishwasher. She always liked to do the dishes before dinner and leave the next mess for the following night. She looked up when he came in, one eyebrow raised. “Why do you look like you’re being chased by a lion?” she asked.

Did he? Probably. He shook his head. “Hey, remember when you said Ky could come for dinner? Can he come tonight?”

“Um, sure,” Carla said. “I didn’t expect him to accept so soon. How was seeing his apartment yesterday? I didn’t get to ask you about it.”

“It was good—great,” said Vincent. It had certainly not gone great, but he could pretend it had. He pasted on his best smile, trying to look like the confident grown-up man his mom wanted him to be. One who didn’t lay awake wondering if a boy liked him. If his mate liked him. Or even tolerated him. “We’re reconnecting. He wants to have a movie night.”

“Oh, okay,” Carla said, leaning against the sink and drying her hands with a lemon dish towel. “Sounds fun. What are you two gonna watch?”

“Probably Star Wars,” he said. “You know, for old time’s sake.”

Carla snorted. “You two always did love Empire Strikes Back. How many times have you seen it by now? A thousand?” she teased, smiling. “If he’s coming over and you two want popcorn, you might have to make a run to the grocery or, I suppose, the gas station, if they have it.”

Vincent did not want to return to the grocery. “Gas station it is.”

“Okay, at least put your clothes in the hamper,” she said. “And keep your door open, if you’re watching it in your room.”

“Mom!” protested Vincent. “I’m not sixteen anymore. He doesn’t even like me like that, I don’t think.”

“Just do it for me, okay?”

He huffed, that grown-up act disintegrating. He sighed. “Fine.” Then he was racing up the stairs like a lovestruck teenager tearing off his shirt to jump in the shower when he realized he had to call Ky back.

He wrestled his phone out of his pocket and clicked on Ky’s recent phone call.

“So, go or no go?” said Ky. No hello, just a casualness that made Ky’s throat constrict. With happiness or fear, he couldn’t tell.

“Go,” said Vincent. “Definite go. Um, I don’t have popcorn though. Do you mind stopping and getting some on your way here? I’ll pay you back.”

“You don’t have to pay me back, Vince.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“No, you seriously don’t. We’re sharing it, aren’t we?”

Vincent supposed that was true, but he felt bad making Ky get it. “Yeah, but—”

“Seriously, dude, I’m fine on money. A five-dollar box of popcorn isn’t going to break the bank.”

“Fine.” He sat on his bed, tugging off his shoes. “Just like, can you give me twenty minutes? I gotta shower still.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then, Ky cleared his throat and said, “Okay, yeah, I can give you twenty minutes.”

“Thanks. Okay, well, I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“Yeah, see you. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Vincent hung up quickly again, his heart slamming against his ribcage. Ky was coming over for movie night. He couldn’t believe that two days ago they weren’t even talking and now they were texting and calling each other and coming over for movie nights where they would be essentially cuddling on the Vincent’s bed. Or should they watch it in the living room? Would that be awkward, to lay on Vincent’s bed together? Well, Ky didn’t like him anyway, so did it matter?

Ugh, Vincent thought, what the hell is wrong with me? Of course it would be awkward because he doesn’t like me.

Couch it was then. He sighed, a tad—okay, very—disappointed he couldn’t get Ky in his bed, even if it was only to watch a nerdy sci-fi movie. He should go ahead and tell his mom not to worry about him because he wasn’t getting dicked down by his hot alpha mate anytime soon. He hadn’t really thought about the fact that Ky was an alpha and was talking to Vincent of his own volition. He thought of Bradley Davis and the meathead posse who hardly tolerated him as if Vincent’s very presence emasculated them. If he had been an alpha, would they have shunned him as much as they did? He had always thought about asking his own omega dad about his experience. Had the alphas of his day bullied him, not just ignored him? But he’d never been brave enough to ask, not wanting to have an overly serious conversation with his dad. The only serious conversation he had with his dad was when his father saw an article about how the werewolf population was declining on Reddit (the community was relegated to Reddit, mostly, because you could be fucking weird on Reddit and nobody cared) and he preferred to keep it that way.

He undressed the rest of the way and stepped into the shower, washing the grocery store smell off of himself. He tried not to think about Ky while he was in here because masturbating to a real person was kind of weird. Plus, he had made a promise to Ky to keep the masturbating to a minimum when Ky came over.