Greg stopped visiting Dale’s office. He’d taken to delivering Dale’s lunches between classes, and when noon rolled around, Dale would find him tucked away on a bench, his laptop open, textbooks and papers spread across the table.
Dale didn’t have the heart to interrupt him. When he found Greg’s study spot by the lecture halls, he took time off his own break, walking by the open atrium to peek on his alpha. Greg would frown, his eyes scanning his laptop screen, and on occasion, he’d remember to take a bite of his sandwich.
Sometimes, Dale would tuck himself into the space between a potted plant and a wall, and send Greg a message. Eat your lunch.
The first time it happened, Greg smiled, took a bite of his sandwich, and forgot about it for the next five minutes. So Dale sent another text. Finish your sandwich. 10min to class.
When Greg finally dragged his eyes from the screen, he blinked at the text. Then he looked around, his lips curving into a grin when he found Dale watching him. Dale’s heart skipped.
You could share the bench, Greg texted.
That would be too obvious, Dale answered.
But his presence kept Greg from working, so he left the atrium, heading back to his office with a smile.
As the days edged closer to the finals, Greg stayed up later at nights, his project deadlines looming. Dale accompanied him when he could, lounging on the couch after dinner. He’d fall asleep to Greg’s typing, and when he woke, he’d be in their bed, or cradled in Greg’s arms as Greg carried him to the bedroom.
It was sweet of Greg. Adorable. It was frightening, how much Greg meant to him. And maybe there was something intrinsically wrong with Dale, with him loving an alpha so young.
But there was no going back now. Dale was in love, and he couldn’t retract his feelings even if he wanted to.
20
Greg
Greg slammed the Porsche door shut, jogging up the short path to his old apartment. In the four weeks since he was last here, nothing had changed. The grass was still lush and trimmed, the trees were perfectly manicured, and the apartment buildings were freshly painted.
Not so different from Dale’s place, except his parents had paid for his lodging here, whereas Dale’s apartment was something Dale owned. Not something Bernard Hastings could hold over his son’s head.
Greg scanned the closed windows of his apartment, but didn’t enter. The last time he’d visited, it had been to grab the rest of his textbooks, and a shirt or two he’d missed. The rest of his things weren’t important—this place wasn’t home anymore, not since he’d begun living with Dale.
And Dale was the reason why he’d come back at 7 AM on a Saturday... not that Dale knew Greg had slipped out of bed.
Greg had gotten a gift delivered to his own apartment, so it wouldn’t somehow arrive early to Dale’s mailbox and ruin the surprise.
Dale was still asleep back home, the sheets tucked around him. Greg had turned off the alarms and sneaked out of the apartment, careful to close the doors quietly behind himself.
At the mailboxes, Greg searched out his own. Inside, a stack of cards and magazines and flyers had been crammed into the tiny space. For a moment, he held his breath—the package hadn’t arrived.
But the email had said Product delivered, so Greg pried the wads of paper out, his heart skipping when he found the plastic envelope squashed at the very top.
It was wrinkled, folded at the corners, and slipped around the product inside. Greg tore it open.
With the receipt came a bundle of printed white fabric—cartoon rabbits on a bunny-shaped onesie, the one with the fluffy tail that Dale had laughed at. It was tiny, maybe twelve inches long, and in another seven months, a baby would wear this. Their baby.
Dale would love this. And Greg wanted to surprise him with it.
Grinning, Greg slung the onesie over his shoulder, sorting through the mail. Mostly junk. A card from his mom. Some wedding invites from his friends from school. He emptied the mailbox, kept the onesie and cards, and headed back to his car, wondering how he’d wake Dale up in bed. With a kiss? With the onesie stretched across his chest? Over his belly?
As he made his way back down the sidewalk, Greg opened the envelope from his mom. It wasn’t until he looked up that he found his father standing by his car, a disapproving frown on his face.
Greg froze. Crap.
Bernard Hastings stepped forward, a deep frown creasing his forehead. “You haven’t been here in a while. I’ve dropped by a few times to see if you were home.”
No, he hadn’t. And he’d been ignoring his dad’s prying texts for the past few weeks. “Hey, Dad.”
Bernard’s gaze slid to Greg’s shoulder, where he’d left the bunny onesie, its fuzzy tail sticking up. Greg cleared his throat. Not his dad’s business. Especially not right now, when the pregnancy was just over a month in.
“What’s that?” Bernard asked, nodding at the onesie.
“It’s a gift.”
“Have you chosen an omega?” Greg’s father sniffed at him, his gaze appraising. “Or are you still with Ivan? You’re still wearing that same hibiscus scent.”
Who’s Ivan? Greg blinked, his mind racing. Oh.
When he’d first moved in with Dale, Greg had mentioned the imaginary omega to his dad a few times, to throw him off Dale’s scent. Then he’d forgotten the name in the midst of ignoring his father’s texts.
As Bernard Hastings stared him down, Greg breathed in, his thoughts filling with a sleepy-eyed professor. Yes, he wanted to say. I’ve chosen my omega and it’s Dale Kinney. But his father was the college president, and Dale would lose his job in a day. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Good,” Bernard said, checking his watch. “I’ve picked out a few better choices for you. Dale Kinney suggested Penny Fleming from his lab. I’ve been trying to find someone more suitable,
