It takes a few minutes for me to get moving, hit the bathroom, and find some clothes. It feels so good to have space to actually organize my closet. I don’t own a lot of clothes, and most of them are dressier than I wear on the weekends, for when I’m at work, but a pair of faded jeans with a dark grey T-shirt with an overshirt are an easy go-to. The weather around here is nuts, so I’m never sure if I’ll need the overshirt, but Nadine’s heater can be iffy sometimes. Especially on longer trips.
By the time I’m putting my socks and sneakers on, Spencer is back at my door with a big grin and a plate full of toaster waffles. I guess that means he let Paul sleep in. He’s been doing a big breakfast spread on the weekends since we moved into the new place. Paul never told me he enjoyed cooking, so I don’t know if it’s because he has room to do it now, or if it’s just a novelty. Regardless, it’s been an enjoyable change of pace from cold cereal or takeout.
Spencer’s voice is excited as he passes me the plate that I’m just going to have to carry back to the kitchen. Even if I wanted to eat in here, these are plain, no butter, no syrup waffles. It would be like chewing on slightly sweet cardboard. Still, he madethe effort, so I can appreciate his attempt. “The website says they open at eleven, so that should give us plenty of time to get over there and do the hardware store and wherever else you need to go. The mall opens at ten this morning if you need to go there.” He’s practically wiggling as he talks, and I’m once again reminded of an oversized puppy.
He’s not really much younger than me, so how does he have this much energy in the morning? It’s probably all the time he spends at the gym. I should try to fit that in my schedule as well. Not that I’m in bad shape, but physical activity is an important part of staying healthy…also if Paul keeps cooking, I don’t want to risk pregnant man belly from overeating.
One of my dads has that as he’s gotten older. All his extra weight went right to his stomach. He calls it his tool shed, and sadly I was almost seventeen before I understood the meaning and immediately wanted to bleach my brain. I don’t want to risk those genetics being the deciding factor in any body betrayal I might encounter with age.
“Ok, Big Man, let’s head out to the dining room and make a plan, alright? I’m gonna need something to go on these”—I wave my plate of plain waffles around—“and I don’t want to sit in the parking lot for over an hour waiting for the place to open. At least let me have breakfast?” He steps back, allowing me to exit my room and pull my door closed behind me, then follows me to the kitchen so I can locate waffle toppings.
Paul is staring blearily at the coffee maker, as if it holds the secrets of the universe. Who am I to judge? Maybe it does until he’s had his morning caffeine. His boxers sit low on his narrow hips as he squints harder at the numbers on the front before pushing one. There’s a loud beep and the gurgle of water as the machine burbles to life. He grunts quietly before turning his attention to the cabinet above it and pawing through, looking for his coffee cup.
There is, thankfully, no shortage of mugs; we each have several because they are a go-to gift when you have no idea what sort of birthday present to give your packmates. Hey, I just met you, and this sounds crazy…but I don't know what the hell to get you for the holiday, except you drink copious amounts of caffeine, so have a beverage holder. This is how you end up with a cabinet full of mugs for three people. Maybe I should take a couple to my room to use as pencil holders or something. Just clear out some of the excess. Or get three separate mug trees, one for each of us. It might clutter up the counter, but we have a lot more space now, and it could be a conversation piece. Not that people come over to have conversations with us.
It is entirely too early for this much thinking.
Paul hands me my usual cup filled with steaming hot coffee and a spoon before grunting at the bottle of my creamer he’s already pulled out. I take a sip to make some room, and manage to give myself a fuzzy tongue in the process.
Yes, clearly, it’s going to be a day.
Chapter 33
It’s hard to believe that Al is going along with this so easily. I was all ready to butter him up with waffles and fresh coffee…then I forgot that Paul got a new coffee maker and I haven’t figured out how to use it yet. It’s that cool kind that can take little pod thingies for all kinds of hot drinks. Though it does seem like it would be bad for the planet. I think I read somewhere that you can recycle those things or…compost them? But they’re made of plastic, so that’s not right. I’ll ask Tiffany. Hopefully between me and her and Google, we can figure it out.
Still, things kind of spiraled. After I ran to my room to get some clothes and brush my hair, I couldn’t find the toaster for the waffles, ’cause somebody put it under the bottom counter, and I had to get down on my hands and knees to see it. Then, I wasn’t sure if he wanted peanut butter, jelly, or syrup…Or chocolate syrup. There are too many topping options, so Ithought I’d just give him the waffles…then he mentioned we have to come back to the kitchen, and I felt like an idiot. He and Paul never treat me like I’m stupid, but I forget stuff sometimes. Or I get overwhelmed with options and can’t figure out what to do. That one happens a lot, and it’s why I keep a schedule for the gym of what days I do what exercises on. You gotta let your muscles have an off day, or they might get damaged.
It’s one of the things I always stress to the people who want me as a trainer. You can go in all gung-ho, but you gotta give your body time to heal, or you’ll end up with more damage than gains. It usually takes about a week and a half for that to kick in—once everybody’s had time to do the main circuit and find out what feels good and what works, and how bad it hurts after a couple of days of pushing yourself. It’s not like I want to discourage anybody; I just have to make sure they know what to expect so that they don’t get depressed when it takes a while.
Still, even though I’m glad that Al’s so smart and I didn’t have to come right out and say where I needed to go, it’s kind of embarrassing to go there without having an omega to shop for—and I don’t think he would understand that I want to get some colors for paint too. He and Paul don’t go into the nest, but I’m using it as a canvas right now. It’s not exactly a landscape, ’cause I can’t paint stuff like that, but there are lots of swirling blues and purples I want to try. I’m hoping to make it feel like a twilight sky. It has pretty sand-colored wooden floors, and I thought it would be nice, like lying out in the desert staring up at the sky…or maybe the ocean? I’ll need a sound machine for that. Even without an omega, it could be relaxing.
In theory, anyway, this is all kind of a work in progress to see what feels right. But most of my life since my designation came in has been that way. I’m always learning as I go, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Nests aren’t supposed to be just for sex; they’re supposed to make you feel cozy and safe enough tolet your guard down. It seems silly to have a room that’s just empty when I could make it something useful, at least until we have someone else who wants it.
I pop my own waffles out of the toaster while Paul and Al mutter over their coffee. He’s right, and we do still have a few hours before anything opens, but we could hit the mall first. The doors unlock at nine so we could just go and walk and stretch before the shops open an hour later.
Al doesn’t do a lot of physical activity, but I’m trying to trick him into being healthier. Claire says tricking people into doing stuff that’s good for them is ok, but I’m not sure I should take her advice on that since she’s still in high school. Tiffany also looked really irritated when she said it, but that might also be that Claire keeps trying to sneak spinach into the brownies when it’s her turn to make dessert. I think it’s spinach, anyway.
But this isn't just some ploy just to get him to exercise, it’s just…like…an added bonus, making sure my pack are staying healthy and exercising. I reallydoneed to go to Nests-N-Stuff, I just also want to keep my people around for as long as possible. My family is amazing, Paul’s family is cool too. I don’t know too much about Al’s family, ’cause he doesn’t like to talk about his life before he moved here—but his mom is really sweet, and she always leaves me nice comments. Which Hope says is a red flag, but she knows jack-all about packs, and is a manipulative bitch. I don’t even remember how that conversation happened. Regardless, I’ll be here when and if he ever wants to talk about it. For now, as long as he’s safe and happy here, that’s all that matters…and healthy, can’t forget healthy.
Maybe I should ask Steve for some recipes for healthy meals.
Shit, who am I kidding? I can’t even boil water without almost setting the kitchen on fire.
Paul’s a good cook, though that wasn’t a surprise. I mean, I’ve known the guy forever, and I know their parents made him andJosh both learn. It means I can add cookbooks to my list of possible Christmas and birthday gift ideas for him now that we have a bigger place. Unless that would be offensive. Would it bother him for me to give him that kind of thing? Would he think it was a hint that I hate his food and he needs to try something else? Shit…I guess for now I’m sticking with a new whittling knife and tiny paintbrushes. Those at least I know he can use. Still, I’ve got a few more months till his birthday. Plenty of time to figure out gift ideas.
People are hard.
That sounded awkward even to myself.
There are so many ways to screw up.
I’ve known Paul forever, but I still can’t always tell what works and doesn’t work for him.
Like wanting a mate.
I have a pretty good idea why he’s so against it. But that doesn’t mean that it’s not frustrating. Despite everything, he deserves to be happy too. He doesn’t blame his scent match, and I don’t know if he should or not. Like I said, people are hard…they’re complicated. What makes sense to one person doesn’t make sense to somebody else, and fuck knows I overthink stuff sometimes, but I just wish my pack could be happy.
I know that technically alphas don’t need an omega; we don’t even need a beta, we won’t suddenly drop dead from lack of sex or companionship—and we have each other, though that’s hardly the kind of companionship I’m thinking about. But it seems like it would be nice to have somebody to love. Like Mom and Dad have each other.
