Chapter 163: The Date They Won’t Explain

Reed Ashwood

I was already at the breakfast table when Astrid and Xander finally emerged from his room, and the scent that followed them hit me before either of them said a single word. My wolf stirred immediately, something territorial flaring beneath my carefully maintained composure, and I kept my eyes fixed on my plate rather than let either of them see exactly how much that lingering scent affected me.

"Morning," Xander said, far too cheerfully for someone who clearly understood exactly what he was announcing with every step he took closer to the table.

"Morning," I said, my voice carefully even.

Astrid sat down across from me, and something in my expression must have given me away, because she glanced between Xander and me with growing understanding, color rising in her cheeks.

"You can smell it," she said, not quite a question.

"I can smell it," I confirmed.

Xander grinned, entirely unrepentant, reaching for the coffee pot with exaggerated casualness. "Problem, Reed?"

"No."

"You look like you have a problem."

"I don’t have a problem."

"Your jaw is doing the thing it does when you have a problem."

I set down my fork, forcing myself to breathe through the possessive instinct still clawing at my composure. "I’m jealous," I admitted, because pretending otherwise would have been a lie neither of them would have believed anyway. "That’s all. It’s not an argument."

Astrid reached across the table, her fingers finding mine, something warm and reassuring in the contact. "Being close to him doesn’t change what I feel for you," she said quietly. "You know that."

"I know," I said, and meant it, even as my wolf remained stubbornly unconvinced beneath the surface.

She squeezed my hand, and something in the simplicity of the gesture eased the tension sitting in my chest regardless, enough that by the time breakfast properly settled, I’d managed to push the lingering possessiveness into something manageable again.

"You don’t have classes today," I said, once we’d finished eating, changing the subject deliberately.

Astrid looked up, surprised. "I don’t?"

"Neither do we," Xander added, exchanging a glance with me that Astrid clearly caught.

"What’s going on?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her tone.

"We have plans," I said simply.

"What plans?"

"You’ll see."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion shifting into something more curious now. "Where are we going?"

Neither of us answered.

"Reed."

"You’ll see," I repeated.

"Xander."

He grinned at her, entirely unhelpful. "What he said."

She looked between the two of us, clearly trying to determine whether pressing further would actually get her anywhere, and apparently deciding it wouldn’t, she sat back in her chair with an exasperated sigh.

"It’s a date," Xander finally said, unable to hold out any longer despite having agreed to let the mystery build properly.

Astrid’s expression shifted into surprise. "A date? Neither of you mentioned anything."

"That’s the point," Xander said. "A surprise."

"After everything you’ve been through," I said, "we wanted to give you a day that has nothing to do with investigations, recovery, academy obligations, or anything heavier than simply enjoying yourself."

Something softened in her expression at that, genuine warmth replacing her earlier suspicion. "What are we doing?" she asked.

"That’s the point," Xander said again, grinning. "You don’t know."

We led her toward her room a short while later, and when she opened the door, she stopped short, staring at the dress already laid out carefully across her bed. Soft fabric in a deep blue that caught the light, clearly chosen with deliberate care rather than picked at random.

"You picked this out?" she asked, running her fingers over the material.

"We picked it out," Xander confirmed. "Took considerably longer than either of us anticipated, mostly because Reed vetoed everything I liked."

"Your choices were all inappropriate for a first proper date," I said.

"They were fashionable."

"They were scandalous."

Astrid laughed, picking up the dress properly now, studying it with obvious appreciation. "Where are we going?" she tried again.

"You’ll find out once you’re dressed," I said.

"That’s not an answer."

"It’s the only one you’re getting."

Xander leaned against the doorframe, grinning. "Somewhere with excellent food. Possibly dancing. Maybe a secret underground fighting ring."

"There is no fighting ring," I said.

"There could be."

"There isn’t."

Astrid shook her head, amused despite her obvious frustration at being kept in the dark, and shooed us both out of her room so she could change, closing the door firmly behind us.

I waited in the hallway with Xander, my mind drifting toward everything I’d carefully arranged over the past several days, hoping it would land exactly the way I’d intended. Xander, predictably, filled the silence with increasingly ridiculous guesses about what she might think we were doing, each one more absurd than the last.

The door opened, and whatever he’d been saying died immediately in his throat.

Astrid stepped out wearing the dress, and something in my chest tightened instantly, my careful composure slipping entirely for a moment longer than I would have liked to admit. The blue fabric caught the light exactly the way I’d hoped it would, complementing her in a way that made every careful consideration during the selection process feel completely worth it.

"You look incredible," Xander said immediately, his voice carrying genuine, unguarded appreciation.

I found myself momentarily unable to produce words at all, something rare enough that Astrid noticed it instantly, a small, pleased smile tugging at her mouth as she watched me struggle.

"Reed?" she prompted, amusement threading through her tone.

"You’re beautiful," I said finally, quieter than Xander’s enthusiastic compliment, but carrying a weight I hoped landed just as clearly.

She glanced between us, clearly delighted by how differently we’d each reacted to the exact same sight, Xander’s open admiration against my more restrained, deliberate words.

"Okay," she said, smoothing the fabric of the dress self-consciously. "Now will you tell me where we’re going?"

"No," I said.

"Reed."

"There’s one rule," I said. "You’re not allowed to ask where we’re going again. Not once more, for the rest of the evening."

"That’s unfair."

"Guessing is allowed," Xander offered helpfully. "Just not direct questions."

Astrid crossed her arms, studying both of us with renewed determination. "Fine. I’ll figure it out before we even get there."

"You won’t," I said.

"I will."

Xander and I exchanged a quick glance, both of us perfectly aware that despite her confidence, she had absolutely no way of guessing correctly, not with how carefully we’d both kept every detail hidden from her over the past several days.

"We’ll see," she said, clearly catching the look we’d exchanged and narrowing her eyes further in response.

I offered her my hand, and Xander moved to her other side, both of us flanking her as we made our way toward the door. She glanced between us, understanding settling into her expression.

"You’re not letting me walk ahead," she said.

"Observant," Xander said.

"Why not?"

"Because we want to see your face," I said, "when we actually get there."

She huffed, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her genuine curiosity rather than actual annoyance. We stepped out of the apartment together, her hand in mine, Xander’s fingers laced through her other hand, and as we made our way down toward wherever the evening would actually take us, I allowed myself a small, satisfied smile.

Astrid still had absolutely no idea where we were taking her.