The Alpha's Mate (under construction)

Chapter Eight

When I asked Alexander on a date and let him plan it, I thought we'd be going out. Instead, he showed up this evening, without a bouquet of flowers or a nice button-down shirt. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt, but I didn't mind because his arms looked amazing, and ripped black jeans. This was actually better than I imagined. He even wore chain necklaces and several rings on his fingers. 

I barely had any time to throw on a date-worthy outfit. I didn't get to wear my favorite sundress either due to a wine stain. Instead, I settled on a casual pair of denim shorts and a corset top with my platform converse. Instead of curling my hair, I yanked a brush through it and did an easy half-up half-down look. I filled in my eyebrows and swiped on mascara, lipgloss, and a little bronzer and blush. I finished the look with a glowy highlighter. 

He was patiently waiting on the edge of my bed, fiddling with a loose thread on his jeans. I clear my throat, his head snaps up to me and he smiles a little. He stands, grabs my hand, and leads me out of the room. He tells me I look beautiful. At least something is going to plan. 

Alexander's hand continues holding mine as we exit the house and walk through the trees. He leads me back to the gazebo we were at a few nights ago for that party. My heartbeat quickens when I think about it. The lights around the structure look even more beautiful with my hand in Alexander's. Everything seems better with him. 

There's a table with a white table cloth spread atop it. Several white candles of various sizes are scattered in the middle, surrounding a vase full of sunflowers. My heart nearly bursts at the sight. There are already two glasses full of red wine; my favorite. I beam up at him, a silent way of telling him he nailed it. 

We reach the table and he pulls my seat out for me. I sit and he pushes me in. I quickly take a sip of my wine to ease my nerves a little. He sits in his own seat across from me. He reaches under the table, producing a small bell. I raise my eyebrow as he rings it loudly. I giggle as I see Beta Brayden walk out of the small kitchen area, holding printed-off menus. 

He hands us the menus wordlessly before turning on his heel and stalking away. 

"I take it that he didn't sign up for this willingly?" I ask, sipping my wine. I glance over the menu. We're having an appetizer of chips and dip, a main course of pizza, and a dessert of lava cakes. 

"No, but he owed me a favor," he responds, setting the menu down. "Just an FYI, I asked for steaks and salads. He told me where to shove the steaks and salads."

We both laugh and joke about Brayden's cooking skills for a few minutes before a mildly awkward silence falls between us. I fidget with my utensils in front of me, occasionally glancing up to see Alex watching me.

"Tell me something about yourself," he says suddenly. My eyes meet his and bite my lip. 

"That's not very specific," I point out. He grins and shakes his head. 

"I'm not very good at first dates," he admits, sipping his wine. I mirror him.

"I'm not either," I say. "Tell me about your worst first date."

"Ah, a good question," he stretches his arms. I watch his muscles flex and strain against the tight fabric of his shirt. I know I'm staring but I can't stop. I'm like a moth drawn to a lamp. Except the lamp is Alex's arms? "I was fourteen."