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She pretends that she didn’t know she was an Omega.
That she actually thought she was a Beta.
It’s such a big trope for TV shows and movies.
There are tons of works of fiction about Omegas who think they’re Betas, until, suddenly, they find out they’re not. It’s not so common in real life, because most Omegas know who their parents are, and if the character traits don’t make it clear in a child’s early life, a blood test can clear up any confusion later.
I knew reality shows were scripted, but this one seems painfully cringe-inducing.
I concentrate on eating my food while Scarlett’s friends eat up the melodrama on the screen.
Erin snorts a few times, and Karma scowls at her.
Cleo sighs softly at the end. “If only they’d accept my application.”
“You’ve applied to be on that show?” I ask, shocked.
“Only every year that applications open up, since forever,” Karma says, frowning at me. “Like you didn’t know that. What is up with you today, seriously?”
“I don’t know,” I mutter. “I’m tired.”
“Are you done with that?” Cleo asks, glancing at my plate.
“Um, yeah.”
She takes it out of my hands and puts it on top of her own. “I’ll clean up. You should go to bed early. Maybe take a bath, or something.”
“Hell, no,” Karma complains. “It’s Scar’s turn to do the dishes tonight.”
I get up. “And I’m doing them, don’t worry.”
I take the plates from Cleo. “Thanks, but I’ll do this before I go to bed.”
Because clearly if I don’t, Karma will be a pain in my ass for the rest of the week.
I might be starting to regret my decision to stick around.
Karma passes me her plate and flicks her hair over her shoulder after.
I move on to Erin and she gives me a sympathetic smile. “Hope you’re feeling better in the morning.”
“Thanks.” I take her plate and go out into the hall with the stack, taking them into the kitchen and finding the back door open like it was last night. I put the dishes next to the sink and I sort the leftovers first, putting what might still be good to eat into one container and storing it in the fridge before I move on to putting the rest out in the trash.
It’s a little dark outside and we don’t seem to have exterior lighting in the garden.
I can see someone’s standing outside next door, but I can’t tell who it is.
I don’t think it’s Bishop or Rueben.
But there are two more guys living next door that I haven’t met.
Scout, who uses online recipes when it’s his turn to cook, and Gus who likes to make comfort food.
I wonder which one of them is standing at their back door right now, and why.
I guess I’ll meet them at some point this week. I just hope they aren’t as tempting as their pack brothers. They can’t all be perfect. That’s just not possible. Here’s hoping they’re so awful that it puts me off their pack brothers.
I can’t imagine how bad they’d have to be to manage that, but I’m going to have to live in hope because I seriously need to get over my crushes on Bishop and Rueben. The sooner, the better.
