Alphas Like Us (Like Us 3)

Push harder.

I do.

And my rubber sole slips on wet cobblestone. Fuck.

Fuck.

I almost go down—I reach out, grabbing the back of Farrow’s white tee. My boyfriend instantly extends his tattooed arm backwards, catching my forearm. And then he pulls me up to his side. All the while we’re still moving.

My pulse skips a beat. The effortless affection striking me hot.

Farrow is smiling at me, knowingly, but it fades fast. And he calls out to the others, “Stop!”

I’m on my knees in a flash. Puking off the side of these old steps. Farrow crouches and puts a hand on my back.

“Moffy.” Sulli skips down the stairs to me. “Oh fuck.”

I spit off the cliffside, my head whirling. “I’m alright.” The amount of times Farrow has seen me upchuck is startling.

“Drink this.” Farrow hands me a 32 oz. blue water bottle.

“Thanks,” I say seriously. I unscrew the wide cap, and I glance back at the camera pointed at me. “Possibility that tourists will take pictures next to my puke spot?” I try to lighten the mood that I’ve sunk.

“High,” Jack says, adjusting his camera settings. “It happened to someone in a boy band.”

Akara wipes sweat off his forehead. “I heard about that.” He looks at Jack. “Fans sold his puke on eBay too?”

“Yep. Double whammy,” Jack says, unsnapping a buckle or something to the steadicam and giving his shoulders a breather from the weight.

“Chile is fucking rougher than this,” Sulli tells me while I swig my water.

“I know.” I rise to my feet, Farrow’s hand hovering by my waist in case I go down. I’m up.

I’m stable.

I can run.

Pain thumps in my collar, swelling like a balloon that expands inside a space too cramped, too small. I clear a knot in my throat. Take another swig of water.

“I’m alright to run,” I tell my cousin.

Her grit and willpower is even greater and stronger than mine. Reverse our positions where she’s the one injured, and I’m pretty sure she’d be pushing beyond the limit. And maybe that’s why she’s not able to stop me.

It reminds me of yesterday. I don’t know why. But I think about the moment where we were on the stern’s swim deck.

Sullivan was flexing, showing off her carved bicep. She kissed it. Luna stuck out her tongue, no piercing, but she must’ve eaten something blue. Janie tossed her arms in the air. And Farrow and I—we were mid-teasing, our arms wrapped around each other.

My mom, out in the sea on an inner tube, snapped that picture. And when Luna saw the photo, she said, “Alpha chicks and dudes.”

“Total-fucking-ly,” Sulli smiled.

Jane beamed. “Oui.”

The media has latched onto Farrow and me as alphas. Not always as a compliment. And hearing my sister and cousins use that word to describe themselves made me love it more.

I blink out of a short stupor. Only to see Sulli and Akara facing one another. One stair above me. Seriousness tensing their postures and faces—I must’ve missed the start of some sort of talk.

“You have lots of friends, Sul,” Akara says.

“Who?” Sulli says wide-eyed like he’s not living in the same universe as her right now.

My scowl deepens, and I slowly twist the cap back on my water.

“Dean.” Akara takes off his backwards hat, pushing back his black hair. “He’s your friend.”

“No, he’s just a swim buddy at the club,” Sulli says.

“A buddy is a friend.” His smile peeks.

Sulli sets her hands on her head, distraught. “It’s not the fucking same when I have to censor myself with them, Kits. And I already suck at talking to people. My little sister would hate it if I said anything about her and someone spilled it online.”

Saying a private thing to the wrong person—it can be frightening for us. The consequence could hurt the people we love.

“Hey,” Akara says, “with that criteria you still have lots of friends.”

“Who?” she asks, breathing harder than she has been running up this damn cliff.

“Your family,” he says strongly. “Family can be friends, Sulli.” He emphasizes both words. “Not all family is as close as yours, and you made those bonds. You did that.”

She touches her lips, contemplating.

“And I’m your friend. And…” Akara motions to his left. “Jack is your friend.”

Farrow and I look over, and Jack Highland smiles a charming smile to Sulli while he reattaches his steadicam.

Sulli shakes her head repeatedly.

“Sullivan, right in the heart,” Jack says playfully, not really hurt.

“Oh hey, I know we’re friends, and I was excited about that because I can trust you, but it’s different…” She hangs her head, hand to her eyes.

I’m about to go comfort my cousin.

But Akara steps forward. “Sulli.”

She holds out her hand to stop him from edging near. “I just feel like you stole him from me. Like Jack was supposed to be the perfect fucking friend, the guy I could hang with, the one I could talk to about anything without fear—and now you two are best friends and where am I?” She pauses. “Not that…I mean, I wouldn’t claim a friend like that…I just…” Her cheeks roast bright red.

I walk up one step, her embarrassment eking into the air.

“Sulli,” Akara starts, worried.

She looks left and right for a quick exit; she whips around and sprints. Up the hundreds of stairs. Fleeing.

Goddammit. I bolt after Sulli, and before Akara chases after her, I tell him to give us a second. Farrow and Akara are following us, but at a distance.

“Sullivan!” I shout, pain stabbing my collarbone. Water in my tight grip. I shift the bottle to my left hand since it adds weight.

She slows on the curve of a switchback. Sun growing hotter with the morning light. I breathe through my nose and wipe my temples with my bicep.

“OhmyfuckingGod,” she squats,

face in her hands. “What did I say, Moffy? Why’d I fucking say that?”

I crouch in front of my cousin. “Because that’s what you felt. It’s okay, Sulli.”

“I sounded like a fucking brat,” she mumbles against her palms and groans. “Nothing is going right.” She’s referring to more than this moment.

On the yacht, she confessed to Ryke, her dad, about passing out twice after drinking. Uncle Ryke is pretty much a pushover when it comes to his two daughters. But not on serious issues, and at the news, he looked fucking horrified.

Now Sulli only wants to drink if it’s at home, not in a public place. I think it’s a good idea. But I also think her dad’s reaction scared her more than actually passing out.

“You just sounded like you were expressing yourself,” I tell my cousin.

She takes a bigger breath and glances down the stairs to where Akara, Jack, and Farrow climb up. “I’m going to be replaying this moment in my head for eternity. Fuck my life.”

“Don’t stress about it, Sul. Really.” I nod towards the stairs, knowing that there’s only one thing that will take her mind off this. “Race you?”

She gives me a wide-eyed look, but I don’t wait for her to say it’s a bad “fucking” idea.

I just go.

And she runs with a skilled, untiring stride. Soon, she’s passing me, and the three other guys catch up to my pace.

I’m not slowing. Not stopping.

I want something to go right for Sulli.

And I push and push and push. Temperature escalating, humid and hot, the harsh drumming in my bones roils my stomach to the umpteenth degree. Around the 400th cobbled step, my body revolts against my persistence.

Lightheaded, clammy, nauseous—I stop dead in place. My hamstrings spasms, and every muscle feels like it’s cramping at the same time.

How I’m standing—I don’t know.

Farrow skids to a halt next to me. He’s slowed down the last ten minutes for me. I hate that he has, but he has and he holds my neck while I try to rub my hamstrings.

I look up at him deeply, and there’s no amusement in his features anymore. I’ve reached the threshold of what Farrow is willing to take. He endures more than anyone else could or would with me. Because I can’t live life feeling restrained or imprisoned.