Of ARES

Four | Staring Problem

"So, what are you going to do if he proposes?" Sabina asked, her left cheek stuffed with about three crackers.

"Throw up. Cry. Kill myself. I don't know, yet." I swirled the red wine in the glass. It's movement mimicking the twisting and turning that I felt in my stomach.

"He might," she pressed, and I gripped the glass a little tighter.

Alden and I weren't on the best of terms, but we'd made it past our little lovers' spat from two weeks ago. He showed up back at my apartment three days later with a weak apology and an invite to dinner. I agreed before I was aware that we would be meeting company there, his parents. They were fine. His mother complimented my dress but made it known that she wasn't a fan of the dark eye-look I had chosen. His father was more interested in my family. Where they lived, what kind of car they drove, what their jobs were in the pack, etc. Alden's personality was a perfect blend of the two: analytical and judgmental.

The idea of marrying Alden never came to mind until a week ago. Amid another steamy moment, his teeth grazed the sensitive area on the left side of my neck. However, this time, he didn't seem to plan on stopping his canines from invading my body. I was quick to catch on and pulled away. When asked why I was being so difficult, I said, "I want to wait until marriage."

I didn't realize this man would take that so seriously until he asked me my ring size three days ago.

Since then, I'd been avoiding my Delta. When he called, I was short and tried to hang up before the call hit the five-minute mark. When he showed up at my apartment, I made up every excuse in the book to get away from him. I need a shower, alone. I'm just tired and want to go to bed. I don't feel well. I have a headache. The list continued on until I ran out and had to start recycling them. Alden wasn't an idiot, though, and caught on that I was stalling. So, he made us arrangements at one of the nicest restaurants our territory had to offer in the Penn District, knowing for a fact that I wouldn't have anything else to do because it was supposed to be during one of my patrols. He had someone else cover it without my knowledge. Normally, I would be psyched to not have to participate in my pack duty, but Sabina was taunting me with the idea of becoming a Delta Female, and it was so much worse.

"Just break it off with him," Sabina advised, shoving another cracker in her mouth. "I'm sure it won't be too terrible."

"Yeah, sure. Because I won't end up marked five minutes later," I deadpanned. Sabina smiled shyly, picking up her wine glass and tinking it to the side of mine.

"At least, I get to be Maid of Honor."

I sighed miserably and took a gulp of the wine. My nose scrunched, wishing that I was drinking whiskey instead.

Was it otherworldly to believe that Alden was going to propose? No, absolutely not. That's what made the whole situation so nerve-wracking. Werewolves just moved faster romantically than the others. A month and a half relationship was plenty of time to satisy the idea of marriage, and I could not be more disturbed by that. My parents were an ideal example of the disturbingly fast-paced love life of wolves. They met, had me within a year, and got married the next.

"I didn't even bother telling my mother about the ring thing," I muttered. Reaching across the island, I snatched the bottle of wine and poured my fifth glass. Sabina eyed me closely, her eyes watching me with a bit of concern when the bottle bumped the side of my glass with a little too much aggression.

"Why not?" Her hands shot out to take the bottle away from me before I had the chance to smack my glass off the island with it.

"She'll want to meet him, and I don't want to give Alden more of a reason to think that I want to mate with him."