The waiting room smelled like antiseptic and overpriced air freshener trying its absolute best. It failed. Andrew sat on one of the pale-blue chairs, elbows on his knees, fingers fidgeting nonstop like they were being paid by the movement. He kept rubbing his thumb against his index finger, then switching hands, then stopping, then starting again like his body couldn't decide what coping mechanism to commit to.
Next to him, Tina Sterling was losing a silent war with a stress ball. The poor thing didn't stand a chance. She squeezed it. Too hard. It squeaked. She froze. Slowly loosened her grip. Then squeezed it again. Harder. It squeaked louder this time. Andrew glanced sideways at her.
"You're more nervous than me."
Tina's head snapped toward him so fast it was honestly impressive she didn't pull a muscle.
"No I'm not."
She crossed her arms instantly, the stress ball trapped and slowly dying between her elbow and ribs.
"I'm a calm and responsible alpha."
