Anastasia

The tension between Jacob and I is melting away. I stay in bed and read through our text thread. I can't help but smile. I want to ask him what brought about the sudden change of heart, but I won't risk having him shut me out again

I try to stay open to him, despite my apprehensions. I don't know if he'll go cold on me again, but I want to make the most of our time together.

'Remember when we were kids, and we spent hours chasing insects in the meadows?' his text reads.

'I remember you trying to eat them! You were gross back then,' I responded, teasing him.

He takes longer than usual to respond and I get nervous that I've offended him. Then I see that he's typing and my heart flutters.

'That made me LOL. You better not tell anyone that. I don't think they'll believe you anyway,' he responds.

I'm smiling at my screen. I feel a warmth growing in my heart and I hold my phone against my chest. It feels good to be reconnecting. Even if it's a small step I appreciate the progress.

'Oh, I'm sure they'll believe me. Nobody said anything out of respect for the Alpha, but you had a reputation for having a curious palette,' I text back.

I want to remind him of the days we spent cloud gazing. How they usually turned into stargazing. I type out the text, then erase it. I don't want to get ahead of myself. We're not the kids we used to be and we both know it.

There's no sense in reminiscing.

I feel a pang in my heart as I think about how people grow apart with age. I snap out of the moment of lament before it consumes me any further. Before I feel the urge to continue down that road at the end of which is only more hurt.

Melancholy can be addictive.

I know it all too well. I don't want him to sense that in my messages. I don't want him to go into savior mode when we're doing just fine as friends.

I miss his company, and I want to propose spending time together. Our conversation flows and I see it as an opportunity for reconnection. A small part of me knows Gisele would feel a way about it, but I silence that voice.

I follow my gut and send a risky text. I know I could overwhelm him if I'm too forward, so I play it cool. I keep it lighthearted and nostalgic.

When he shows he's into it, when he can't possibly back out, then I'll pounce.

'Speaking of old times, whatever happened to our game nights?' I ask him.

'Haha, when was the last time we did that?' he responds.

'I was wondering the same thing. Why did it stop? We had so much fun!" I text.

I can predict his response. I know he's competitive and he won't miss his cue to boast.

'I had fun, because I always won. You, on the other hand, were the resident sore loser,' he responds.

He hasn't changed at all; I think. I'm still smiling at my phone as I shake my head. I prepare to respond and set the last piece of my foolproof plan in place.

'Oh yeah? So, you weren't cheating all those times you won? You're still sticking to that story?' I text back.

Questioning his integrity is a low blow and a cheap shot, but he's too easy to rile up. I would be remiss not to maximize on the chance.

'How dare you?! I challenge you to a rematch! You can pick the time, place and the game,' he says.

I am beaming as I read the words. It feels good to know he still wants to play our favorite childhood games together. It was never about winning for me, but I decided right then that I'll give it my all when the time comes.

It's also good to know the fun parts of Jacob still exist. Reminding me that somewhere beneath my darkness, my fun, lighthearted side may still exist within me. I'm optimistic about where the game night might lead.

I immediately plan meticulously. I take out a pen and a notepad. I jot down ideas of the different games he used to love and I try to tweak the ones I used to love, so that he will love them too.

I try to remember all the rules and I write them down too. I know he loves being orderly and he'll appreciate it. A part of me feels that perhaps I'm being obsessive, but why shouldn't I be when it's about something important like this moment?

The thought of having more time to share laughter and create memories with Jacob ignites a flame of hope in my belly. I know looking forward to game night will be all I'll think about.

I have something to look forward to that will keep my sadness and loneliness at bay.

There's a difference in the way Jacob carries himself lately. In some ways, he reminds me of the carefree child I grew up chasing butterflies beside. I figured, from the ways they've been acting more loved up than usual, that Gisele was behind his smile.

Despite that, it brings me joy to see him happy again. Since the passing of our previous Alpha, clouds of gray always surround him. He's taken the death pretty bad.

He tries to hide his pain most of the time, but it's clear to me. Because it's innate in me too. We share the distinct sadness of experiencing inconsolable grief and loss in common.

I don't let myself think about it too much, as I read over our text thread. Instead, I revel in what's coming. Something new and beautiful.

'I accept your challenge, my Alpha,' I message back in jest.

I tell him I'm planning it for all three of us, because I don't want to isolate Gisele and make things weird. I mention all of his favorite games because I know it'll get him excited.

'We'll do it the day after the Gala. You better get practicing if you want to beat me fair and square.'

Just as I send the text, I hear a knock on the door. I feel like a giddy schoolgirl as I head over to let my guest in. I already know who it is and I'm happy she's here. I've been waiting for Gisele. She arrives right on time. I'm in the best possible mood to receive her.

We have plans to get dolled up together for tonight's Gala. I have no clue about what we'll be getting up to. Gisele is a pro with things of this nature. She's smiling in her charming ear-to-ear way when I open the door.

She hugs me warmly. When I pull away, she pulls me in even closer. There's no use fighting it. It's like she knows when I need it most. I feel her love in the embrace of her arms and I surrender to it. It feels good. I feel safe.

"You ready?" she asks. She's carrying several bags, and she's excited, like a child having a sugar rush.

"Not really," I say. Before the words fully leave my mouth, I feel her tugging on my arm, pulling me towards the bedroom. She sits me down at the dinghy vanity and asks me to face the mirror.

Well, it's more of a command.

"Sit," she says. "Turn and face this way."

"The sun's still up," I remind Gisele. "Why are you here so early?"

Gisele rolls her eyes. She's already working on undoing the topknot I've got my hair in. She doesn't struggle much with it before my hair comes cascading down my back like a red-brown waterfall. I see from the dazzle in her eye that the wheels in her head are turning.

She looks at me like she's Picasso, and I'm a blank canvas. Suddenly, she seems to remember I've asked her a question.

"Because beautiful things take time to create," she says as she runs a hairbrush she's pulled out of nowhere through my hair.

I spend an eternity scrolling through my phone and keeping myself busy while she performs magic.

When I eventually look up again, my reflection catches me by surprise. The mirror at the vanity is murky and old, but the luminescence somehow shines through.

I look so beautiful. I don't even recognize myself for a moment.

"Gisele," I gasp. "How did you -? Thank you!" I say.

She's clearly chuffed with herself, but there's no time for sentimentality.

She begins the same process on her own face, but she opts to wear her hair down whereas she styled my hair half-up and half-down.

I wonder when and where she learned these things and how I fell so far behind. Thoughts of my mother flood my mind and I feel a deep sadness. I mourn yet another memory we didn't have the chance to create.

"Hey, what's all that frowning about?" Gisele asks, intruding on my thoughts and halting my spiral into that cold, dark emptiness inside me. "Don't crease my masterpiece, Ana," she scolds me.

I can tell she isn't joking.

"Oh sorry," I say. "I don't know where my mind went just then," I say, ashamed about how quickly my mind goes to dark places.

"Well, I have some good news to cheer you up," Gisele says. "You know Garett? The Omega? I know he has a crush on you. I think he's a nice guy, you should - "

"Gisele, no way. This can't seriously be the good news?"

"A chance, Ana," she says firmly. "That's all I'm suggesting. Just a fair chance. What's the harm in getting to know someone a little better?"

I exhale a deep sigh. I know how Gisele gets fixated on something, and it seems I'm her new project. She ignores my objection and continues. She's handing me things to put on, as she fixes herself and plays matchmaker. The quintessential multitasker.

"Just until you find your mate. Think of it as practice," Gisele says, and she giggles sweetly. "And tonight will be the perfect opportunity. Look at yourself. You're a vision. He won't be able to resist you," she says with a cheeky smile on her face.

She zips up the emerald green gown she told me to put on and turns me to face the mirror again. I can't argue with her. I look divine thanks to Gisele. The dress compliments my shape, accentuating my soft curves. It reaches the ground and makes me appear taller than I am. The color is also the perfect contrast to my red hair.

I feel like a princess. I spin around and the bottom of the dress twirls and sways along with me. I smile at my reflection. Gisele takes my hands in hers. She's beaming with pride.

"What do you say?" she asks.

She's pleading with her eyes. Giving me a look that's impossible to say no to. Plus, she worked so hard on making me look presentable for the Gala. I owe her this much.

"Okay Gisele, a chance," I say. I expect her to be happy to hear me say it, but on her face, all I see is horror. I follow her eyes and realize she's noticing the scars on my arms for the first time.

Gisele reaches her hand out to touch my arm and I pull away from her and fold my arms to hide the scars.

She won't let it go. She turns my body to face her, gently. Her eyes gloss over, like she's the one who experienced the pain of desecrating herself.

I wish she wouldn't make it about herself, but perhaps that would expect too much from someone like Gisele. She's always used to being the center of attention. Even if the spotlight showed her ugliest parts, she would still bask in the glow.

"Ana, what is this? What ha-"

"Leave it alone, Gisele," I say sternly. I practically bark at her. "I mean it. I don't want to hear a lecture about it or talk about it. Especially not tonight. Let's just have a good time. Okay?"

The look of horror just grows behind her eyes, but she doesn't press me further. Tonight is important to Jacob, so of course she'll make sure it goes off with no hitches. All she had to help me look the part and take me there. Why ruin it when we're close?

Gisele sighs reluctantly and I see from the way her shoulders drop, that she's going to drop it.

"Alright," she says. "Ready to go?"