My chest starts vibrating at her attention, and panic sets in, trying to figure out how to turn the damned thing off. Why does this keep happening? Shit, this poor woman is going to think I’m some sort of pervert!
Ignoring her question, I look around for Teddy or Kelly, trying to figure out if this is the friend of their pack he mentioned when I came in. I don’t want to upset their friend, and Teddy said she went to school with them. But they also need a heads-up in case Hope tries to start some shit about the girl. Not seeing any of my bosses, I finally meet her eyes, cringing at my own body’s betraying rumble. “I’m so sorry, um…I don’t think I caught your name earlier. You said you went to school with Teddy, Steve, and Garret?” For now, I’m just ignoring her calling me her alpha because that’ll bring up some stuff I’m not ready to deal with at the moment, and rev this stupid purr into overdrive. I can’t even pretend it isn’t happening at that point. I want somebody to want me, yeah. But she doesn’t know me, and I don’t know her, and if she came in here with another guy, I don’t want to step on anybody’s toes.
She’s grinning up at me. “Oh, the name’s Sarah, sorry. Also, no, Teddy probably saidwewent to school together. I’ve only met Garret once before yesterday and Steve can just eat a bag of dicks.” She’s still smiling as I blink slowly, processing what she’s saying. She looks puzzled for a moment before continuing. “Huh, I guess Teddy stocks the really good scent blockers. You really think that anybody but an omega could pack this much awesome into this small of a package? You got a lot to learn about omegas, Moose.”
She finally stops swapping the bar from hand to hand and puts it back on the rack beside the wall. I still haven’t managed to get my brain around everything when she stands in front of meagain. “I didn’t mean to break your brain, Moose...And I wasn’t trying to be a huge fucking cockblock back there. You looked uncomfortable as fuck with the bleach bottle bimbo, but if that’s your thing then I’m sorry.” The stuttering purr dies in my chest.
Sarah shakes her head, almost like she’s disappointed, and turns, waving to a tall beta a few rows over that’s apparently been watching us. She looks back at me for a moment, and I can’t quite understand her expression before she marches over to him, and they take off towards the front desk.
I know that sometimes I’m a little slow, but right now I feel like I’m running on Windows 97…Did she just say she’s an omega…Sarah…Teddy’s friend?
Oh...Oooohhhhh!
Shit.
Feeling like the lumbering moose she called me, I jog after her. Maybe I can talk to her for a minute before she leaves.
Chapter 28
“Fuck me, Thicc. You didn’t tell me how big they grew them down here. What the hell do you guys feed your alphas?” My voice is shaky despite my attempt to make it sound like a joke. That guy was fucking huge, and I refused to admit that when he first walked up behind the Chad squad, I thought I might be in trouble. Turns out he’s a giant walking marshmallow.
Ugh, with terrible taste in women.
Not that I care.
I shouldn’t care.
I don’t know him.
Do I want to know him?
He was cute—in a big idiot sort of way. Like those giant slobber dogs, the ones that wear barrels around their necks and take rum or gin or some shit to mountain climbers. Not like anythingon his body was droopy. He looked like he could bench-press a fucking truck. Ok, maybe not that much, but Greg, he could totally bench press my beta. That would be fucking hot too. Damn.
I don’t think Greg swings that way. I’ve never asked him, but he’s never looked twice at Adam when we meet up for lunch. Of course, I’d have to stab his ass with a drumstick if he was ogling other omegas, so it’s just as well. He also told me he isn’t interested in anyone else, but he’d be fine with a pack as long as they were good to me and chill. I can’t imagine him ever fitting in with John’s pack of stuffed shirt psychos. Not that they didn’t smell good, but I haven’t even seen anybody but him since that first night, so despite his insistence that they’re interested, I’m calling bullshit on that.
Ugh! I don’t even care.
Why would I care?
If somebody doesn’t like me or want me, they can just fuck all the way off.
I’m tired of fighting to be somebody I’m not just to make someone else happy.
At least I want to be—but I know deep down that I still let my family walk all over me. It’s not like I mean to, it just happens. Mom gives me a look, and I feel like a failure. No matter how hard I try at anything, it’s never enough, and I’m starting to think it never will be. I knew growing up that us kids’ opinions didn’t matter, fuck knows I was told enough times. But it feels like the older I got, the more it was just me. What I wanted didn’t matter. Mom calls at least once a week, just to talk about how great everyone else is doing, but as soon as I try to say anything about my own life, she suddenly has a million things to do.
But that’s how it’s supposed to be, right? Like with my scent matches? The fates…or gods…or whatever put me in this position. They gave me to my parents, who raised me and tookcare of me, and made sure I had food and clothes and stuff. I need to listen to them and try to do what they want. And ever since I presented as an omega, all she’s wanted is for me to join a pack and have more grandkids for her. Fuck, why does she need more grandkids? Or is it just that they don’t want to have to deal with me anymore, so they want to pawn me off on a pack that’ll keep me out of trouble?
I don't want to admit it to anybody, but that’s why I keep changing my major. I’ve been at the center long enough to have at least four different degrees, but every time I’m about to graduate, I change directions. Yeah, the paperwork is a pain in the ass, but dealing with it once every year or so is better than moving home and waiting for them to hook me up with some “friend of the family” that I’ve never fucking met. Ugh.
Then again, maybe the fates are fucked in the head, or they hate me. They stuck me in John’s path, and he doesn’t want me. He’s tried a few times to insinuate that Greg is the problem, but I know I’m not what he or his pack want. Mr. “Look how classy I am, I went to Oxford.” I can see it sometimes when he doesn’t think I’m looking—sarcastic, loud-mouthed, mixed breed. Who knew, right? People could be mutts. I just thought that was called a mixed heritage until I met him. No, apparently it’s something to look down on.
Fuck, why am I thinking of that asshole now? I’d much rather be thinking about Moose. He was a sweetie. I mean, he’s fucking huge, but after the initial shock, he’s also a big softie. I bet he gives good cuddles. Now I want to be in a Moose and Greg sandwich.
Actually, a sandwich sounds really good right now; I haven’t eaten since breakfast.
Nah, I should probably skip lunch. I’ve gained weight since Christmas, and I don’t want to hear about it from Mamá when I see them again.
How long can I avoid it this time?
