Chapter 6 Cherry

　　As if underwater, I heard Heather and Chris’s voices telling Dylan and me to go and join the party. The pack’s excitement flooded the room. Someone had set music playing, the pounding beat like the jackhammer of my heart. Everything around me seemed to blur. A wall of well-wishers surrounded me for what felt like an eternity. With each exchange, my breath caught more sharply. It barely registered as my dad found me, pulling me into a giant bear hug. In his arms, my feelings threatened to spill out, but more excited arms soon tugged me onward. 　　Finally, at the edge of the room, the space around me was clear of friends. I take a step, only to find myself teetering as if walking on unstable ground. Belatedly, I realized that I was, somehow, beside Dylan. He must have come out the other side of the pack, too. 　　Instinctually, my arm reached out to him, curving around his but Dylan tensed. A frown marred his handsome brows, and he pushed me away as if unable to bear my touch. I gaped after him, but he only stalked away. 　　Grabbing a bottle of champagne by the door, he strode out onto the empty balcony. My gaze darted back at the crowd, but the pack was oblivious, abuzz with excitement. Most people talked about the upcoming celebration. 　　My eyes tracked back out to Dylan’s wide back. He leaned over the balcony railings as if wanting to escape into the night. I wondered if that was what he wanted. Did his wolf want to flee from me too? I watched him take a swig of the bottle in hand, only to swiftly take another. Tears prickled across my gaze. No matter how hard I tried, it was hopeless. Dylan would never love me. He hated me. Humiliation washed over me as I remembered how he’d flinched at my touch. 　　Burin three months, we’d be bound together for the rest of our lives. A flash of our future beat through me. I’d really tried to believe that things would work out between us. I’d tried to give Dylan time to come around to me, to show him that I’d always be there for him, but his constant coldness towards me was… exhausting. 　　Taking one last look at Dylan’s back, I snuck off to the bathroom to gather my thoughts. There, I raked my fingers through my hair, tidying up the flyaway strands. I stared hard at my reflection. 　　The whole past year seemed to swarm over me. The one I’d spent so hard trying to get Dylan to notice me. For the first time, instead of helplessness, anger flooded me. I couldn’t keep doing this. I wouldn’t stay here only for Dylan to reject me over and over. 　　I thought of the moments of happiness I’d had over the last year while designing things like the curtains, cushions, and some of the dresses I’d made for myself. A year ago at college, I graduated with a qualification in fashion design. I’d toyed with the idea of applying to universities to study for a degree, but I’d put my interests on hold to come to grips with my future duties as Luna and to have more time to get to know Dylan. I refused to put them on hold any longer. I would apply to study further. 　　In what felt like forever, excitement drummed through me. For my future. For what I wanted. The idea cemented. I wanted to be happy with what I was doing. The dream of designing things, creating them, and sharing them with others took root. So… I’d leave the pack before the bonding ceremony. 　　It wasn’t as if Dylan wanted me around. He’d probably be relieved when he found out I’d gone. 　　With a final look in the mirror, my eyes filled with determination, I left the bathroom. From the edge of the room, I checked out the banquet hall and didn’t spot Dylan. He was so tall that I’d easily have spied him if he’d returned from the balcony. Not feeling like socializing alone and accepting more congratulations as half of the “happy couple,” I snuck out of the hall. 　　The barn had a large hallway, which was empty except for Dylan. As I stepped out into the space, I registered his slumped shoulders, how he leaned back against the wall, the bottle of champagne trailing in his hand. 　　His dilated eyes snagged on me. “Che– Cherry,” he slurred. 　　Shit. 　　He slid down the wall a little. He was wasted. For a moment, I thought about getting Bert to help. But at the thought, I worried Dylan would follow me back into the reception room. What if Dylan blurted out why he’d got so drunk? He’d ruin his dad’s night. Neither of his parents needed to see their son like this. The pack didn’t need to see their future Alpha like this, either. 　　I resolved to look after him myself. Our house was only a few minutes’ walk down the dirt track. Dylan’s house, I corrected myself. It wouldn’t be mine much longer. I’d made up my mind, but I still couldn’t resist the urge to look after him. 　　Dylan dropped the, luckily, empty bottle with a thud, then swayed. 　　I darted forward, burrowing into his side and wrapping my arm around his waist. “I’ve got you.” I guided him towards the front door, fumbling with the latch, and then out into the night.