I'm the Alpha's Crush

Chapter 31

Thursday afternoon arrived, and I sat in the passenger seat of River's car, nerves fraying as we drew closer to the Den.

"Do you want me to turn around?" River asked from the driver's seat.

"No," I shook my head, "I just..."

"'Just' want to go crawling back into your comfort zone?"

"Maybe?"

"Remember, you agreed to do this."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm an idiot."

River glanced over, "You're not."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Very."

I brought my thumb up to my mouth, biting at the nail. "What if-"

"'What if' what? 'What if' you expand your social circle? 'What if' you nerd out about your love of books with like-minded people? 'What if' stepping outside of your precious comfort zone actually makes it bigger?"

Dropping my thumb, I turned to stare at River, "You didn't have to go that far."

They shrugged, "Just saying."

"Besides, what if I like my social circle as-is?"

River snorted, "Soph, your social circle is a line, with you at one end and me at the other."

"Hey-"

"And, no, Gerald and Oliver don't count."

"But-"

"Babysitting for them does not mean you have a full, friendship-level connection with them."

"So, you're saying..."

"You need more friends, Sophie. I love you to bits, but it's true."

Ahead, a driveway appeared on the right, and we turned in, following the long, well maintained gravel path. As we drove, the trees parted, revealing a large, imposing stone structure that stood on the border between "mansion" and "palace".

It never gets any less amazing...

"The Den", the official Alpha's residence and the central hub for pack meetings and social events, had been built in the early years of the twentieth century, when investments in coal and steel had established the Syracuse pack as one of the wealthiest on the continent.

Over the years, that wealth had diminished, especially after the stock market crash of 1929, but careful management by Malcolm and his predecessors had begun to rebuild what had been lost.

Stopping along the hedge-lined roundabout, River shifted into park. Quickly unbuckling my seatbelt, I stepped out onto the gravel only to dive back in, retrieving the bottle of chardonnay that we'd picked up on the way out.

Butterflies filled my stomach, overwhelming me with a strange, trembling fear.

Coming up next to me, River placed a hand on my shoulder, "Hey, just remember: everybody in there voluntarily decided to spend their Thursday evening sitting around and talking about a book. These are unquestionably your people, Soph."

"Right," I sighed. "My people."

The flagstone walkway led up to the stairs to the portico-shaded double doors.

Stepping inside, I was hit by a wave of nostalgia, remembering the first time I'd crossed this threshold.

I'd been a third-year university student, jet-lagged from air travel and terrified of embarrassing myself on the first day of my internship. Gerald had picked me up from the airport, and the entire ride out had me alternately gushing about my excitement and second guessing every word.