I’m Sorry

Unfortunately, I forgot I share precalculus with Alastair. I am still fuming when he hesitantly sits down next to me. I know he is looking at me, but I refuse to look at him. As class starts, I see him trying to pass me a note.

I sigh and look down at what he wrote. "I'm sorry. With all my powers you would think I would be better at communicating."

I'm still angry, but a part of me acknowledges I'm probably being a little petty. Maybe I'm just upset that he isn't helping me because he actually likes me, but rather out of a sense of duty. I'm nothing to him. Less than nothing as evident by the fact that he keeps sabotaging our friendship.

I take the note and write my response. "If you are really sorry, you'd stop pushing me away."

Alastair chews on his lip nervously and for a minute I think he isn't going to respond. Then he begins writing. He scratches out whatever he wrote and starts again. His pen pauses and more scratching follows. Finally, he nudges my arm to let me see what he wrote. "I actually DO want to be friends with you. I've thought about approaching you and David for years. I think it would be good for both the coven and pack if at least the leaders could be friends, rather than just allies."

I ignore the implication in his writing: that he still thinks I'm going to be the Luna someday. "So why didn't you? Why did you always seem so standoffish? Why do you keep pushing me away by saying it's a 'bad idea'?"

Another long pause and then: "I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"Getting attached." I give him a questioning look. He sighs and leans in close to my ear to whisper, "Since I accidentally used telepathy to learn about your feelings for me, I guess it's only fair I share mine too."

I'm dumbstruck at what he is implying. I mean, after everything he has said and done in the last few days I hoped, but…

I meet his gaze. He lets out a shaky breath before writing: "I've only had a crush on you since the third grade."

My mind fails to compute this new information. What? Why? How? I just stare and stare, pretending to listen to the lecture, but not hearing a word.

Alastair nudges me again. "I had planned to reach out next week."

Oh.

He was waiting to befriend me until after Sunday. Until after my birthday, when any potential feelings I might have for him are incinerated by the fire of the mating bond, presumably with David.

In some ways, I understand where he was coming from. Once my position as Luna is assured, there will be much less chance of misunderstandings occuring, like the one today, where Tiffany and David accused Addy of being a "bad influence" on me. Even if they are wrong about Addy, they might not be far off the mark with Alastiar. With my current feelings for him and his own admission that he likes me, even I must admit, the situation has the potential to be volatile.

I shove that anxiety down, refusing to believe we can't be friends just because we are attracted to each other.

"So what changed?" I write back, pushing the multitude of questions I have about his confession to the side for right now. "Why did you intervene on Monday?"

Alastair looks pained. "Deron changed." I give him a questioning look, but he just waves his hand before continuing to write. I read along as he explains. "When they started bullying you freshman year, you have no idea how much I wanted to stop them. But I literally couldn't do anything. I was still in middle school. I would hear their jeers and taunts and I wanted so badly to just jump out of my seat and rush to your side." My heart skips a beat despite my lingering frustration with him.

"Even after I started high school, our schedules were so different it wasn't really feasible for me to police them all the time. Plus, like I said, I was afraid. I didn't want to get close to you."

My heart twists. I still his hand with my own and write in the margins of his page, because there is no more room anywhere else, "It's ok, Al. It's not your responsibility to police those assholes."

He just shakes his head like he doesn't agree. He flips the page and starts writing on the back more quickly. "I did think maybe I could just change their minds. I thought maybe if I could convince them that their actions were hurting themselves and the coven too, they would stop. I even got my mom involved a couple of times to try and talk to them. We both agree that the pack are our allies and we want to put the feud behind us."

Well that explained the comment about him being a "mama's boy". I chuckle and shake my head at his naïveté.

He flinches slightly and grimaces, before writing, "As you can probably guess, they got pretty annoyed with me and then they started to take it out on you. I knew it was getting bad when they got physical: the vines tripping you, the rocks in your lunch, burning your homework." To think that he knew about all those things this whole time. I am a little embarrassed when I realize he probably witnessed all my most humiliating moments through those assholes' minds.

"But I just..." He pauses to tap his pen on the desk a few times, thinking. "...thought they would grow out of it. I thought if I gave them space it would eventually get better. But then, on Monday," Another pause, like he is considering. "they didn't just want to hurt you." Now it's my turn to grimace. "I know you're strong and can handle yourself," he writes hastily, "but after you elbowed Daren, he wanted to PUNISH you and then when I heard his intentions, I just got so afraid for you."

His hand is shaking slightly as he writes. I lightly brush the back of his hand with my fingers and push the pen out of his trembling grip. Then I guide his opposite hand gently with a hooked pinkie to hide under the desk and interlace my fingers with his. He looks up at me and his purple eyes swim with unshed tears, turning into shining amethysts. I breathe in deeply, scenting him subtly, and the rest of my anger, confusion, anxiety, and hurt dissolve like mist in the sun as a wave of lavender hits my nostrils.

Damn, he is not helping me get over this massive crush. If anything I like him more than ever now. How could this teenage boy be so pure? As a telepath he must have been exposed to the worst in humanity; or at least exposed to every secret, hidden, dark thought of his entire coven. And yet, he retains all this idealism, talking about peace between the coven and the pack. Even with all his power, he doesn't want to force people to be good. He wants to help them choose to be good, even scum like Deron.

But most astonishing of all, he likes me back. I have no idea why he likes me or why he admitted it, but maybe… just maybe… he likes me for me? Maybe he sees me as more than just an omega?

There is this voice inside my head telling me that he sees me as weak, just like everyone else. After everything he has seen, from years of bullying to my recent panic attack, how could he see me as anything but fragile? Is that why he likes me? Because he sees me as something to be saved and protected? Because it feeds his ego to be needed?

And yet, he said he knows I can handle myself and a little part of me wants so desperately to believe him.

Maybe David would say he is just being nice to me to get inside my pants—well not say it, but maybe think it—but that would be the pot calling the kettle black. And Alastair has already proven he is nothing like David by not intervening directly in the bullying all those years. David would have beaten the crap out of those guys if he knew about it. Then he would have stuck to me like glue, growling at anyone who got too close.

Sure, Alastair seems to have a little bit of a savior complex going on and perhaps he feels an unhealthy level of responsibility for other people's actions, especially for a fifteen-year-old, but... I'm getting the impression that his self-sacrificing behavior has nothing to do with me specifically. I don't think it's about ego or how he is perceived by others.

And then it hits me all at once. I look over at Alastair, his eyes shining with worry and trepidation, and wonder just how deep this savior complex actually goes. I'm struck by this sudden urge to smooth away those worry lines, to make him laugh like I did in the car this morning. I want to hold him in my arms and tell him he doesn't have to bear the weight of the world alone or even at all.

I squeeze his hand from where I am still holding it under the desk, then I lean over and whisper, "I don't think what Daren had planned could qualify as punishment. After all, most bullies are just overcompensating. His dick is probably so small I wouldn't have even felt it."

Alastair stifles a surprised laugh before writing a response. "That's not funny."

"Based on your response, I assume his dick really is small. So yeah, it kinda is funny."

Another smothered laugh, before, "You shouldn't joke about being almost raped."

"But if I don't joke about my trauma, then I'd have to learn how to be actually funny."

"Berkley. Malum." I snap my head just as Alastair rips his right hand from my left. Our precalculus teacher, Ms. Huang, is giving us a disapproving look, and I shrink silently at being caught. "Focus on the lesson, boys."

"Yes, Ms. H," we mumble in unison.

And for the most part, I do just that. Focus.

Well, besides the final note I pass to Alastair. "Funny how she only noticed us passing notes after we started smiling. Apparently despair and worry are common facial expressions in precalculus, but happiness can only mean one thing: we aren't paying attention."