Fake Dating My Beta Mate

Chapter 6 - Morning Sickness

Tyson entered the room, gently closing the door behind him. He looked at the bed, his eyebrows furrowing together when he found it empty. His gaze fell upon the window, and the slightly parted curtains, a faint ray of sunlight pouring inside the room, shining straight upon the mattress on the floor. His eyes followed it and fell upon Monica, who looked rather annoyed by it. Even as her eyes were shut, and she lay there almost immobile, the only movement being her chest heaving up and down with her breaths, there was a slight scowl on her face.

Tyson pursed his lips, a small smile stretching across his lips at her expression. He walked up to her, towering over her as he blocked the sunlight by his body. Her face softened, as she snuggled into the blanket, holding her tighter against herself. Tyson slowly sat down beside her, contemplating whether he should wake her up or not. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, she looked cute when she was sleeping. Quiet, and peaceful. Not using that annoying tongue of hers.

His phone pinged loudly, making both of them flinch, as he quickly stood up and stepped back, while Monica opened her eyes half-way. She frowned, blinking up at him.

"What is it? Something wrong?" She asked, her voice raspy.

"No, nothing," he shook his head, looking away from her. He could feel her eyes bore into the side of his face, making him uncomfortable and clench his jaw.

"You sure?" She asked, sitting up as she yawned. "What time is it?" She questioned, covering her eyes with her hands.

"It's nine," he replied. "Why did you... Why did you sleep on the floor?" He asked.

"Huh?" She looked up at him, her eyebrows slightly raised.

"Why did you sleep on the floor when I wasn't here?" He said.

"I thought you might return and get upset I slept in your bed," she replied, before standing up and stepping down the mattress.

"No, I just came back," Tyson replied. "Anyway, Alpha has asked everyone to leave the pack house in half an hour. Couples go out together, singles with friends. He does this once a month," he explained, rolling his eyes. "So get dressed, and we can leave?"

"Sure," she said, running her hand through her hair. "Give me fifteen minutes."

Tyson nodded in response, and she walked around him, to the dressing table. She made a disgusted face seeing her reflection in the mirror, before walking towards the washroom. Just as she was about to enter, she paused.

"Do you wanna say something?" She asked, turning to find him staring at her. "You're looking at me in a weird way."

"No," he said instantly, eyes widening as he looked away. She raised an eyebrow, making him sigh. "I mean, yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, before clearing his throat. "I just wanna say that, next time, if I'm out late, and you're sleepy, you can sleep on the bed. You don't have to sleep on the mattress if I'm not home."

Monica blinked, before slowly nodding. "Oh, okay. Thanks, I guess," she replied, offering him a small smile. He returned her an awkward one, before she turned around and entered the washroom, closing the door behind her.

Tyson huffed, rolling his eyes as he plopped down on the bed. He massaged his temples, before pulling out his phone from his pocket. He was about to check his i********:, when a loud gurgling sound made him jump and almost drop his phone. His head snapped towards the washroom, and he immediately stood up, rushing to it. He was about to knock, when an equally loud and disturbing noise followed. His eyes widened, and he gulped, before knocking.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, frowning.

The response was a retching sound, and then that of the flush.

"Monica? You okay?" He asked.

She opened the door, peeking her head out.

"I'm fine," she flashed him a smile before shutting the door on his face. He blinked, stepping back.

"You sure?"

"Yeah!" She answered from inside.

"If you're sick we can go to a doctor instead of-"

"I said I'm fine!" She said in an annoyed tone, making him flinch.

"Alright," he said softly, shrugging.

- - - -

Monica exited the washroom, with a towel wrapped around her hair, wearing only a bathrobe. Her body reeked of a lavender scented perfume, and Tyson sighed, standing up.

"Finally, you're out," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Says the one who still hasn't changed," Monica replied, crossing her arms.

"Says the one who's wearing a bathrobe," Tyson retorted.

"Whatever. Where are we going, by the way? Will it just be us?" She asked.

"Yeah, it'll just be us. We can go anywhere. Starbucks, McDonald's, Cafe Mousse?" He asked.

"I've never tried Cafe Mousse," Monica shrugged.

"It's good, but not great," Tyson replied.

"Starbucks then? It's been a long time since I last had a good cup of coffee," she replied.

"Sure. Starbucks it is," Tyson shrugged.

"Great," Monica grinned. "By the way, where were you all night? I didn't expect you to just run off after-"

"After what?" Tyson cut her off, raising his eyebrows, a hard look on his face.

"After... You know what," Monica replied, frowning.

"No, I don't. Nothing happened last night," he stated, looking her in the eye.

"Well if you wanna pretend like-"

"I'm not pretending. It was nothing. Absolutely nothing happened. Is that clear?" He took a threatening step towards her.

"Jeez, fine," Monica said with wide eyes, raising her hands in surrender. She saw his eyes flicker down to her chest, and she looked down to see her bathrobe revealing too much of her cleavage. She quickly covered it up, hugging herself.

"Get dressed for God's sake," he muttered through gritted teeth, rolling his eyes. Monica turned to the dressing table, while he walked up to the cupboard. As soon as he opened it, the scent of lavender flooded his nose, making him frown in confusion. Inspecting the clothes, he gaped at the bright colored crop tops that were ruining the cool aesthetic of his wardrobe, the high heels and flashy bags destroying the entire theme.

"What the hell?" He asked, grabbing a yellow top and showing it to Monica.

"What?" She asked, her hair now free of the towel and falling in curls to her waist.

"Why the hell are your clothes in my cupboard?" He snapped, throwing her top on the mattress.

"Hey! Careful with that," she scowled, rushing to it and picking it up. "Where else are they supposed to be? Under the damn bed? I went shopping with Alyssa yesterday, remember?" She asked in disbelief.

"Yes, I remember, but you weren't supposed to dump them all here. Keep them anywhere. Just not here," he pointed to the cupboard. "Get them out now."

"Or what?" She challenged, crossing her arms.

"Or- Monica, this is my cupboard. For my things. Not for your bright, flashy, obtrusive clothes. They're ruining the entire look of my-" 

"The 'look'?" She asked, cutting him off. "What 'look' Tyson? The one that screams 'I'm an angry, frustrated werewolf with a grey and dull life'? You kidding me?"

Tyson clenched his jaw, balling his fists. "It's called a cool tone. An aesthetic, but of course you won't understand. After all, you go around wearing colors that would look fit on a seductress, or-or a stripper."

"Woah," Monica let out a chuckle. "So we're slut-shaming now. Based on the colors I choose to wear? Real cool, Tyson, real cool. But at least I don't walk around looking like a recorded ultrasound video."

"Tch, that's not what I mean, but just look at them. Your clothes are all so bright, and red and yellow. Disgusting," he said, scrunching up his nose.

Monica scoffed.

"You. You know there's something wrong in there, right?" Monica asked, pointing to his head. "I've cracked it. You don't need a mate, darling, you need a doctor."

"God just shut the hell up and get your clothes out. Or I swear to God I'll-"

"You'll what?" Monica said defiantly, stepping closer to him. "What will you do?"

"I'll throw them out myself," Tyson growled, his fists balled as his eyes flashed purple for a second.

"Okay. Do it," Monica challenged, crossing her arms. "Let me watch you. Throw everything out if you want. But each thing that you take out of your cupboard, is going inside your brother's."

"Excuse me?" Tyson scowled. "What the hell did you just say?"

"Exactly what you heard. If you throw my clothes out, I'll put them in Viktor's cupboard. Have a good time explaining to him what went wrong, why things aren't working out between us, why you're disgusted by even my clothes. Maybe even tell him about Elle," she stated.

"You'd stoop that low?" Tyson glared at her.

"Lower than your IQ," Monica replied.

"You know what, screw you, Monica. And screw this breakfast. And screw Starbucks," Tyson snapped.

"I'd say screw you too, but I'm not interested. And I hated the idea of going out with you anyway. You'd make Starbucks coffee tasteless with your black and white personality and clothing. So thanks, but I'd rather not ruin Starbucks for me. Go to hell," Monica retorted.

"Fine! And I didn't mean screw you in a literal way, just for your information. I'd rather screw a dead snail over you," Tyson stated.

"Careful, Tyson, your n*********a is showing," Monica mocked.

"Oh just stop ruining my morning. Shut up or I'll pull your tongue out," he threatened.

"Aw, with your tongue? I knew you wanted to kiss me last night," she teased, giving him a sarcastic smile.

"God, you're impossible," he said in disbelief, shaking his head.

He flipped her the bird, and she responded by making gagging and retching sounds, which didn't take long in turning into real ones. Monica felt a wave of nausea take over her and her eyes widened. She glanced at the washroom, and was about to rush to it, but Tyson smirked and beat her to it. He locked the door, leaving her outside to bang on it.

"Tyson! I need to puke!" She yelled, pounding her fist on the door.

"Maybe you should puke in Viktor's washroom too," Tyson replied, smirking.

"Tyson, open the door or I'll puke inside your cupboard," Monica threatened.

"You wouldn't," Tyson muttered, the horror evident in his tone.

"You know I would," Monica warned.

"Fine," he muttered through gritted teeth.

As soon as he unlocked the door, Monica opened it and rushed inside, hitting the door in his face in the process.

"Ow!" Tyson groaned, rubbing his nose as he glared daggers into her back, while she knelt on the floor, and emptied her guts into the toilet. "s**t, you stink!" Tyson scowled, taking the can of air-freshener and spraying it all around Monica.

"Thanks," Monica whispered, pulling the latch of the flush. She stood up and walked to the sink, proceeding to splash cold water onto her face.

Tyson placed the air-freshener back, while staring at Monica in disgust.

"You're the grossest person I've ever met," he stated.

"At least I have a personality, unlike some people who are allergic to happy colors," Monica muttered, before burying her face in her hands.

"Have fun sulking here," Tyson snapped, stepping out of the washroom and slamming the door behind him.

"Screw you too, Tyson."

- - - - - -