Page 83 of Knot Their Starlet

“Seriously? What is there to celebrate?”

My expression sobers. Now that my hands are free, I take the opportunity to brush some of the hair that’s come loose from her braid away from her face.

“Therapy is hard. It’s worth celebrating.”

“I don’t... I don’t⁠—”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I murmur. “I just want to be here for you.”

“Okay.” The smile she flashes me is relieved. I don’t miss the way she melts into my touch even further.

I brush a thumb against her perfect skin before I take a step back. I don’t want to come on too strong.

Her apartment is nice. Decorated in the way I’d imagine a young woman in her early twenties would decorate a Santa Monica apartment. A little beachy, but still cute. What’s missing are the pictures.

I grew up with my parents putting pictures of me and my accomplishments up on every available surface in the house. Sure, this is her adult apartment, so she’s probably not going to have a participation trophy from the sixth-grade kickball tournament up, but she doesn’t even have a single photo.

For all intents and purposes, I had a normal childhood. That probably led to me being remarkably normal, especially when compared to Beck or Eli. I don’t have Beck’s endless well of creative talent or Eli’s difficult childhood.

But maybe… unremarkable is just what Andi needs. Especially when her life has been full of people with ridiculously large personalities. Maybe she just needs someone to care, to put her first.

The bitter taste of sadness lingers at the back of my throat. Sadness from the fact that she’s so alone here. Alone enough for Beck to come bursting into my room to tell me I should come here.

Omegas without family support often find living arrangements through the OCN so they can live with other omegas.

I’ve heard stories that those living placements can be difficult. Living with housemates you’re unfamiliar with can be that way, doubly so if you add omega hormones into the mix, but those problems exist because of how important it is for an omega to have support.

“Thank you,” she says, shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot as she wraps her arms around her waist. “I don’t really feel like talking right now. I’ve done enough of that for the day.”

“Then let’s get you fed,” I say, flashing her a soft smile.

I pull the pot I brought from the penthouse apartment I share with Eli and Beck out of the reusable plastic grocery bag I brought it in. It’s split in half down the middle, creating two separate sides. One for the spicy version of the broth and one for the non-spicy.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, letting out a soft groan.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot my portable stove.”

“You need a portable stove?” she asks, running her tongue along the inside of her cheek as she stares down at the pot.

“I mean, you don’t need it, but it’s nice. That way you can just make it at the dining table.”

“Oh, well, we can just use my normal stove. I wouldn’t mind dragging some barstools and just eating here,” she says, gesturing over her shoulder with her thumb.

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s no trouble at all. It’ll be an adventure. I’ve never had hot pot before.”

“An adventure then,” I say, setting the pot down on her stove.

“Let me know how I can help,” she says, rolling up the sleeves of her oversized hoodie before washing her hands in the sink.

The two of us prepare the ingredients in silence together, washing and chopping vegetables, tofu, and some other toppings I grabbed so she could try.

“What’re these things?” she asks as I squeeze a few packets into the pot.

“Broth base. If you came over to the Penthouse, I would’ve added these before you came over and pretended I cooked the broth from scratch,” I say with a wink.