Chocolate Deluxe with a side of Werewolf

Forty-nine. Dylan's Pack

"Hey, Daisy, could I talk to you for a moment?" Dylan asked on the morning of the first Saturday of December. He tentatively stood at the doorway of Daisy's study, observing the young female Alpha cautiously. Both werewolves were in their mundane skin, dressed in casual clothing, but while Dylan put some effort into his grooming, Daisy didn't bother. She wore a sweater with one too many questionable stains, mismatched socks— one of which Daisy's big toe was protruding out— and her blonde hair was thrown into a messy bun with strands exploding everywhere. 

Daisy closed her math textbook and glanced up at her childhood friend, curiously gleaming in her blue eyes. "Shouldn't you be completing a last-minute check of the packhouse before your mate arrives? We wouldn't want anyone prancing around in their fur unnecessarily." 

"I already checked. Twice. Everyone's in their human forms. Those who aren't know to stay in their rooms for the next few hours." 

"Good." 

"Um, will you be popping up to say hi?" 

"Maybe later. I want to finish my math homework, but I've been stuck on the last question for the last half hour," Daisy growled out of annoyance, throwing a glare at her textbook. 

"That's rough." 

Daisy eyed Dylan for a moment. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

Dylan couldn't bring himself to meet his Alpha's piercing gaze. "Something's been bothering me." 

"And you waited until now to ask? Can't this wait till after the human's visit?" 

Dylan didn't appreciate how Daisy referred to his mate by her species, but he held back his tongue, or he'd risk losing it. "No, this can't wait. It has to do with Emily." 

"Oh." Daisy was now intrigued, but Dylan could also detect a slight edge in her tone. "What is it?" 

Her response made him all the more curious and eager for clarity. This was the moment he was waiting for. Dylan had rehearsed plenty of times in his bathroom, but now that he was here, his script seemed to have vanished from memory, rendering him as useful as a tipsy zombie. "Ugh." 

Dylan's nervousness troubled his childhood friend. "Out with it," she ordered, using her Alpha tone. She suspects that Dylan would be circling his question for hours if she hadn't utilized it. 

Daisy's command was the jumpstart Dylan needed. "I don't know how to go about this, so I'm just gonna say it." Dylan took a deep breath, acquiring all the courage possible in that one gust. "Do you like me or something?" 

The question hung heavily in the air, making Dylan instantly regret asking. He stood awkwardly at the doorway, contemplating if he should just walk away and pretend nothing happened. 

Daisy sat motionless for a while, staring blankly at Dylan so he couldn't read her. Her thoughts were also unreadable as she had her mental walls firmly in place, preventing Dylan from mind linking with her. Dylan was stuck in his own thoughts, which ran havoc on his nerves, telling him he screwed up big time. 

Then, Daisy's face contorted to one of confusion and aversion, making Dylan feel all the more a fool. "You think I like you," she repeated, and when she said the words, Dylan realized how stupid he must have sounded. 

"Or something," he answered without thinking.

"What brought this on?" Daisy pressed, her facial features slowly relaxing into amusement. 

Dylan wished he never said anything. But did he end things there? Of course not. "Emily says I'm blind to something, and what else could it be?" 

Daisy's features darkened momentarily, so quick that Dylan almost missed it. "So, Emily told you that I might have feelings for you."