Fake dating the Alpha

Serena

When the name Serena is mentioned, it invokes a lot of emotions: hate, love, adoration, admiration, fear—a plethora of emotions if you get what I’m saying. I was named Serena after the moon goddess whom we, the werewolves (or weres, if you want to sound cooler), worship and adore. 

I’m supposed to be cool and amazing for me to be named after the moon goddess right? Unfortunately, I’m not. I’m always the last (quite literally) in everything I do. I was the last to come out of my mother’s womb. I was the last to learn how to shift in my family...and I still struggle with it. It’s not my fault. I swear it’s because the moon is never full enough.

I was the last to get into school and get a job. I was the last to enter into a relationship in my clan (the Zeta clan) which is almost like a subcategory in the South pack; an annoying extended family with the occasional gossipy aunties. The failed relationship still feels like a noose around my neck, reminding me of how I’ll never be someone’s top priority.

I was the last to learn how to howl at the moon. I just don’t know how I manage to sound like some pipsqueak mouse when I’m a werewolf for God’s sake. Ok, I made up that last part but you get the gist so far. I’ve always been what humans call a late bloomer and what the weres call useless.

I’m currently contemplating my life as I check on my culture in the Petri dish. My oversized glasses slide dangerously off the bridge of my sweaty nose, threatening to join the bacteria for a day of fun and science. I sigh tiredly when I see that my blot looks more like a blob of purple goo than an actual blot.

I straighten and document my lackluster findings...for the fifteenth time this week. I’ve been trying to grow and isolate a special breed of bacteria that would be used to make an antidote that cures all were diseases. Almost like penicillin for werewolves.

We werewolves are presumably invincible...and we are to an extent but we have limits. We are vulnerable to a special kind of cyanide called silver cyanide (AgCN2).

I know penicillin is an antibiotic and cyanide is an inorganic compound but AgCN2 is a totally different ball game. It’s like a giant family of bacteria in liquid form that multiplies at an exponential rate once injected into the bloodstream of weres. Once they multiply, they start eating up the Were from the inside out.

It’s called silver cyanide because it works as quickly as cyanide does on humans and because the bacteria were genetically modified using silver pellets (which are lethal to us), hence the name.

I walk to my desk at the other end of the lab and slump tiredly into the less-than-comfy chair behind it, wondering if I somehow made the moon goddess mad at me by not attending the annual full moon festival for three years in a row.

I promise to go this year...after I get my sh*t together. I mutter inaudibly as I exhale through my mouth. I need a long hot water bath with my fave bath bomb and a bottle of wine but I have a date today. Yep, you heard me right...a date.

It’s a blind date that was set up by my friend Gabby. Gabby seems to be overinvested in my nonexistent love life and I don’t blame her. She recently met her soul mate and got married so she’s more than convinced that everyone in the world can find her kind of love⸻ sappy, poetic, and passionate.

I pick up my cell phone to confirm the details of this blind date when someone’s head pops through the open lab door. It’s Gabby.

“Hey Rena”. She says jovially as she walks in holding a paper bag that suspiciously looks like it’s from McDonald’s. She notices my hungry look and hands it over with a smile. “I knew you would forget to eat you dipshit”.

Oh, and Gabby doesn’t have a filter.

“Thanks so much”. I say gratefully as I quickly pull out a cheeseburger, my absolute fave, and unwrap it before taking a huge bite. I have been holed up in the lab since the day before yesterday and while that sounds disgusting and heart-wrenching, I love my job as a microbiologist and pharmaceutical scientist.

As for my personal hygiene, my apartment is a few blocks from the lab so I walk back to take showers. I throw a few French fries sans ketchup into my open mouth and chew with a lot of gusto. Gabby settles into a mustard yellow bean bag beside my desk and picks a hair tie off the floor before proceeding to stretch it around her fingers, trying to make a cat’s cradle.

“So, are you going on the blind date?” She asks without looking at me, concentrating hard on her nonsensical task. I slurp my diet cola through my straw, pretending I didn’t hear her. The hair tie snaps into two so she abandons it and focuses her attention on me.

“I know you heard me Serena Prudence Ravendale”. I flinch when she calls my full name.

“You know how much I hate my middle name Gabby”.

“Which is exactly why I used it”, she replies while rolling her baby-blue eyes. Despite how rude the action is, it’s mesmerizing to watch. “Prudence, are you going on the blind date?”

I sigh tiredly as I discard the empty paper bag and drink cup into a trashcan adjacent to my desk.

“Yes, I am. Happy now?”

“More than happy”, she says with a big smile. “But not as happy as you would be when you get like a million orgasms after the date”.

See what I said? Absolutely no filter.

“It won’t be a date if I end up in his bed on the first day. That’s a casual hookup or something”.

“No, it’s not and what’s wrong with hooking up on the first date? It just shows that you guys had stellar chemistry to end up f*ck*ng on the first day”. Her brows are furrowed at me and probably my old-fashioned views on s*x and relationships.

I ignore the flutter in my tummy at the thought of having s*x with my s*xy blind date. Gabby had sent me a photo of him earlier today and dear God help me. He was such an attractive specimen. How was he still single?

The background of the photo was some gala and he was wearing a black tux. He had been looking away from the camera and he still looked absolutely delightfully handsome with his dimpled smile, while taking a casual sip from his glass of champagne. He exuded charisma and sexiness. Guys like him were definitely out of my league and I...don’t know how to feel about that.

I have come to terms with the fact that I’m not extremely attractive or feminine with my out-of-control auburn hair that can’t make up its d*mn mind if it wants to be wavy or curly, my dark blue eyes and somewhat quirky fashion choices that have Gabby questioning my sanity. I love myself (for the most part) and I know the kind of guys I can go for; the nerdy boy-next-door types.

Not some dreamboat alpha.

“Well, there won’t be any form of f*ck*ng or whatever”. I reply, a tad aggressively. Turns out my filter’s broken too.

“If you say so”, Gabby says with a small mischievous smile. “Have some fun and live a little you geek”.

“Whatever you say”. I look up at the wall clock.

6: 05 pm.

“I need to get going”, I say as I pack up some documents, my experiment journal, strawberry lip gloss, and a digital calculator into my beige canvas tote bag with the inscription ‘Just a basic b*tch’ etched on the front in Times New Roman font. “I’ve got a date to prepare for...both physically and emotionally”.

“Oh, don’t worry about that”, she says with a dismissive wave of her hands as she stands up from the bean bag. “You’ll have fun. He seems like a nice guy”.

“No, I won’t and no he doesn’t”. I say as I stand and head for the door. She follows me while asking...

“What makes you so sure about that?”

I answer without turning to look at her as I lock the door.

“I just know it”.

Serena

It's official...this is the worst date ever.

I’m probably not qualified to make that assessment because I haven’t been on a lot of dates but I’m fairly sure that people don’t look at their dates with a scowl on their faces after the introductions.

My date introduced himself as Damien and just five minutes into our meeting, my instinct was right, he’s so out-of-my-league. For starters, he sent a limo to pick me up from my humble apartment. An honest-to-God limo. I didn’t even know cars like that still existed. I definitely have a lot of explaining to do to my nosy and ornery next-door neighbour Penny.

Secondly, my brain short-circuited for a few seconds when I saw him. The picture Gabby had sent didn’t do him justice at all; with his thick chestnut hair, a strong jaw that would put even handsome Squid ward to shame, lovely cheekbones, and the sexiest softest looking lips I have ever seen. Even his height was, in Gabby’s w