Snuggled up against Greg, it’s easy to tell myself I don’t need anyone else. He loves me for me, and he’s happy without adding anyone else to our group. Legally we can’t be a pack of two, but it should be fine to just be a couple. We could get married. That idea in itself gives me a little shiver of excitement, as well as trying to start a family with my pretty beta boy. Not that looks are everything, but my mind fills with an image of a house full of little betas with my smile and his bright blue eyes. We would make such cute babies.
But it’s not like we’ve really talked about having kids. I can feel how hard I’m blushing, so I bury my face against the pillow. He makes a grumbling sound low in his throat and his arms tighten around me, holding me like I’m something precious. Fuck, it feels good. I’ve spent so long feeling like nothing I do matters, that the thought that someone finds me special enough to justwant to hold on makes me feel like dancing. But I don’t want to risk waking him up, so I just scoot back against his warm chest and bask in how cozy he makes me feel. Safe and protected, and like everything is going to be ok.
The logical part of my mind knows that isn’t true. Even if I want it to be just the two of us, I doubt my family would go along with it. Not like they have a huge say in the matter, but they are legally in charge of me until I meet an eligible pack or alpha. I bet I could get Sam to lie for me…no, they already have him on record for Teddy—that might throw up some red flags that require investigation. Besides, I don’t actually want to drag my best friend’s pack into this drama bullshit. He’s so lucky that his family likes them.
It’s not even as if I’m opposed to a pack at this point. Clearly, John is supposed to be mine, but his whole pack is pussyfooting around the situation, like finding a scent match isn’t something amazing. Maybe they don’t want Greg to be a part of their pack, but that’s just tough. He’s with me no matter what. It’s not just that he’s pretty, though that helps—he’s sweet, thoughtful, and protective. And he doesn’t bow down like they seem to fucking expect the world to do. Too many alphas seem to want that, or maybe I just meet a lot of assholes at the center.
The big guy today didn’t seem like that. Though for all I know he smelled like ass, he seemed to be wearing just as much de-scenter as me, which makes sense. If you work in that kind of space, with that many sweaty people, you want to keep the pheromones under wraps as much as possible. Maybe he smells like something gross, like durian or cigarette smoke—not that I mind fruits, or even certain smoke smells, but there are just some things that my nose isn’t ready for—tough, I’m sure some omega out there would be thrilled by those options.
Nah, he seemed sweet, if a little slow. Maybe he smells like maple syrup or molasses. Though either of those can getoverpowering really quickly. Maybe pine trees? He looks like he could be the outdoor type and athletic since he works at a gym. Ugh, as long as it’s not old gym socks and duffel bags. Alphas don’t always have scents that go along with their personalities, but sometimes they do. It’s certainly not a hard and fast rule. If it was, I’d probably smell like some kind of gnarly jello salad from the 70s, those things that one person invariably brings to the potluck but nobody ever actually eats because they’re horrific.
Instead, I get strawberry shortcake. Sugary, fruity, slightly tangy, with just a hint of vanilla. It gives people the impression that I’m cute and sweet, and won’t tear their faces off for being giant douche-canoes. Now it’s the other group of alphas, the Chads. Fuck, but his parents were cruel bastards. They just set him up for a lifetime of jokes with that one. But no, I bet my alpha smells like something sweet and outdoorsy, maybe fresh-cut grass…the good kind, not the one that makes you sneeze.
Ugh, hopefully not rubbery…basketballs smell gross, too.
Maybe something woody, like hickory, BBQ smoke smells nice…though I’m not sure he’s the cooking kind so much as the eating kind. That’s ok, I can’t cook real well either. At least not for myself. I learned to cook when I was younger from my Tia Angela, Miguel’s wife. But she was cooking for six to eight people. It’s hard to whittle that down to just one or two. And I know I’m out of practice since the dorms are pretty limited on cooking options. Maybe I can interest him in my abuela’s empanadas. He looks like he puts away enough food for at least three people. Maybe between him and Greg, I could actually cook right.
As if summoned by my wayward thoughts, my beta boy stretches behind me before nuzzling his face into my hair. His breath tickles over my neck before he kisses me lightly, making my whole body shiver as I try to stop a loud peal of laughter from escaping and waking the whole house. Teddy’s pack are beingreally sweet and letting us stay here. I don’t want to do anything to be an inconvenience. Ok, not to Sam, Teddy, or Kelly. Steve can still suck it. As far as I’m concerned, he’ll never be good enough for Teddy. My bestie deserves the world.
Greg nibbles the shell of my ear and I wriggle down, escaping his arms and teasing lips. “We should probably get up soon, huh, Spi—Sarah?”
It’s funny that he thinks he’s getting away with calling me spitfire sometimes. I don’t mind it so much from him. Not that I plan on letting him know that. I’m sticking by my “no nicknames” rule. Growing up with that many older siblings, I got called all kinds of shit. Most notably, “Shortcake.” Ha ha, yes, I’m short, thank you. My scent changing when my designation came in didn’t help—I went from a light berry scent to strawberry shortcake practically overnight. Sadly, I didn’t grow much taller. So the name is both predictable and boring.
It’s not like I want an exciting name either, but come on, put some effort into it. Clearly my siblings lost points for originality.
“Ok, Love, I’m up. What’s the plan for today? Are you feeling any better?” Greg’s voice is muzzy with sleep, and he seems to have given up on catching me. Still, there’s a mischievous glint in his eye, like he’s waiting to pounce once my guard is down, and is just making small talk to get there.
“Feed Shaggy, visit with Teddy, maybe check out the rest of the town. See if any of them want to go to that big nesting store, just to check it out. We don’t have that chain out in L.A. and I want to see if they have anything good, or can ship that far.” He nods at my reply, stretching his arms over his head and groaning as he rolls over. His feet make a low thump when they hit the floor, and it’s quickly echoed from the fenced-in area on the other side of the room.
Shaggy is awake and demands attention. Sam did an amazing job in here. Though as secure as he made everything, I’m notsure if this is supposed to be my permanent space when I visit. It looks like the rabbit run isn’t coming down anytime soon, and it takes up half the room. My fuzzy-butted companion is not going to be happy to get back to the dorms, that’s for damned sure. But it does mean I don’t feel as bad about leaving him here while we go shopping, or think about going shopping.
I pull my pajamas off, and Greg lets out a low wolf whistle. He tries to give me an alpha growl a few times to show his appreciation, but it kind of sounds like someone’s attempting to strangle a cat, and by the time I manage to stop laughing, he’s red-faced with embarrassment. Not that he has anything to be embarrassed about. I love him so much, but I know he worries about not being able to give me what I need. He doesn’t seem to understand that I need him.
He was talking to that big alpha yesterday when I was ready to leave. The one who looks like Moose. I know that skanky bitch said his name, but I can’t remember it. He’s huge and blond, and looks like a stereotypical gym bro until he smiles…then he looks kind of adorable.Shit.
Chapter 32
Spence knocks on my door, and it is too damned early to be up on a Sunday morning. While the school may be closed for spring break, we’ve been running our asses off trying to get the house organized, and I was up until almost three this morning unpacking books and putting them on the shelves Paul has been setting up for me.
I know we’re pack, but I need to do something nice for that man, regardless. He really went above and beyond getting them assembled and bolted to the wall. He was even considering adding a face frame to make them look more like built-in shelves. Not that we have the tools to do that. I believe we have one pair of pliers, a couple of screwdrivers, and a hammer. Things for the most basic of needs. I couldn’t even locate a stud finder when I was hanging a framed poster in my room last week.
Pulling my shopping list off the nightstand, I quickly scribble down “stud finder” on the list of things we need next time we go to Springfield. Yes, I could order it online and have it delivered, but it seems excessive to bother with shipping if I don’t need it right now. Spence’s signature knock—shave and a haircut—sounds again at my door. I swear, the man watched too many Looney Tunes episodes growing up. Paul’s knock is always two quick and efficient raps, wait for approximately thirty seconds and then two more. Afterwards he leaves, knowing I’ll find him as soon as I finish up whatever I’m working on.
It’s not like either of them are in my personal space often. Even when we lived in the apartment, Paul had his room, I had mine, and Spence had the couch. Though most of his clothes were left in a basket of clean laundry beside the TV stand. Honestly, not having to risk walking out into the living room in the middle of him changing clothes has been one of the high points of moving for me. Naked men don’t do anything for me, nor am I really put off by it—but Spence always got surprised when we walked in on him. Usually his arms would flail, and he managed to put three holes in the ceiling in the first month after I moved in. He doesn’t even have to stretch to touch the damned thing. On the plus side, it means we have someone who can clean the ceiling fans easily…but we lost our deposit when we moved out, because none of us can do repairs for shit.
He knocks again, and his voice comes through the door a moment later. “Al, you up? I wanted to go to the store today, and I need a ride.” This man needs a car. Ideally something large, maybe a truck. Something his legs don’t hit the dashboard in. I have a great affection for Nadine; she’s been reliable and here for me when I needed her. I don’t know if I’d trust either of my packmates to drive her. Not because I don’t trustthem, but I know all her little quirks and what noises she makes. Which onesare normal and which ones aren’t. Add in the VW Bug’s rear engine, and she can be kind of squirrelly to drive.
Running my hands through my hair to smooth it into some semblance of normalcy, I make my way across the room to the door. I’ll need to remember to add an inexpensive mirror to that list for my room. While no one considers themselves vain, it would be silly to leave the house looking unprofessional, at least on workdays. That’s just common sense. Opening the door and seeing my disheveled packmate in nothing but sleep pants covered in various cartoon donuts, I wonder if he has any of that.
“Spencer. Is there a reason you’re attempting to get a ride into town, which is only a couple of miles away, at seven A.M. on a Sunday morning? While still in your pajamas? What could possibly be this dire?” The big man shuffles in place and nervously runs his hands through his rumpled blond hair.
He won’t meet my eyes as he answer, “So, um…I need to go to Springfield. I mean, I don’tneed to, need to, but I’d really like to. Nobody’s gonna die, or catch fire or anything if I don’t. I just want to hit the mall and…um…maybe the…” His voice trails off as he continues to fidget.
“I’m sorry, ‘maybe the’ what? I didn’t catch that last bit.” Though I’m starting to have a sneaking suspicion as to why he won’t finish his sentence properly. I know it’s probably something to do with the damned nest. He’s obsessed with it. Spending more time getting it organized than his own room. Lately, if he’s not at work, he’s in there painting, cleaning, and taking measurements. It’s a waste of time because we don’t have an omega, and on the completely impossible chance one did happen to stumble into our lives, she would probably want to decorate it herself.
He’s still shifting from foot to foot and staring at the floor like I’ll either forget what he said, or hoping I’ll figure it out without him having to tell me. It’s too early for this shit. “Are you sayingyou need a ride to Springfield?” He looks up hopefully, a big grin breaking across his face like I’ve already said yes. “You want to go to the nesting store, don’t you?” His face starts to fall at my deadpan tone, and it’s like I kicked a puppy. Fuck me.
“Fine, but I don’t think they even open until noon. Go check their hours, and get some clothes on…please. Then let me know. It’ll give me a chance to work on my own list.” A look of delighted surprise pastes itself to his face, and I have to crush it. “For the hardware store. I’ll take you to Nests-N-Stuff, but I’m not shopping there. The nest is yours unless we get a mate that wants the space.” He looks sad for a moment, but then grins, nods repeatedly, and practically skips down the hallway back to his room.
