Page 43 of Monster. Me.

"I think they'll figure it out," he says, almost warmly. "They've got a talented team working here."

Caspian looks at him gratefully.

I just roll my eyes. The whole thing is starting to piss me off more and more.

◆◆◆

Pedro's birthday party is tonight, and I have zero enthusiasm for it.

I sit on my bed with a sullen expression, moving my pillows from place to place. I always avoid arranging them in any particular way so people won’t laugh at me, and I definitely don’t try to make a nest out of them, because they would see it as sacrilege against omegas. After all, only omegas are allowed to nest, alphas don’t have that right. But right now, digging through them and burrowing into them gives me a small sense of release for my irritation.

Rupert, on the other hand, seems genuinely excited. First he spends forever in the shower, then he stands in front of the mirror styling his hair with gel. I watch him for a moment, and a thought suddenly crosses my mind. What if I told him I've had enough of this program?

That I'm either leaving or requesting a different vector because it's painfully obvious nothing interesting is ever going to happen between us?

Rupert keeps treating me like a brother.

And it's not like I was opposed to sex at the start. For the first few days, I actually took thorough showers every evening, expecting him to initiate something: I don't know, sit on my bed and try to kiss me or make out.

And sex definitely interests me. I've always had a pretty healthy attitude toward it, though I've had far less of it than I'd have liked.

The problem is that I had this idealistic belief that I'd only sleep with someone I genuinely liked, someone who was actually my boyfriend.

That turned out to be a lot harder than I expected. Plenty of guys wanted to fuck me, but only as a one-time thing. Alphas rarely want to admit they're attracted to another alpha, which meant I could only ever be the side piece.

And I didn't want that. So there was disappointment after disappointment.

The first guy I ever fell in love with was a baseball player. A mountain of muscle and bone, ridiculously attractive. For a while we had something that almost felt like a real relationship. Back then I still agreed to keeping everything hidden because I thought it was just a temporary phase. I believed that eventually he'd tell people about me. He never did.

The sex was great. Sometimes he'd even make these jokes that sounded suspiciously like declarations of love, and every single one of them made me ready to walk through fire for him. But they weren't real. It was only his way of keeping me around.

Then, at the end of the school year, he told me we were going our separate ways. And that was it.

Later, during college, I had two more relationships. Both followed the exact same pattern. Everything started in secret, and eventually I got tired of pretending we didn't know each other on campus. I got sick of them refusing to even hold my hand. I'd had enough of hearing them dodge questions whenever someone asked whether there was something between us.

So both of those relationships ended too.

And again, the sex was good. I've always had a strong libido, and I enjoyed the physical pleasure it gave me. But eventually I couldn't keep doing it. The emotional cost was too high. Pouring that much of myself into someone, only for them to be ashamed of me, to pretend they didn't know me, or to act like I was just some friend, was killing me.

I was an alpha, and they could only be seen publicly with omegas. Their families wanted them to find one and have kids, so I wasn’t a viable choice.

All my hopes and plans were slowly fading. The picture of me in a loving relationship began to dissipate, along with my dreams of living in a small suburban house surrounded by flowers, running my own veterinary practice, raising a bunch of kids, and enjoying a peaceful family life with someone who loved me as I was.

None of it ever came true.

The constant disappointments, little by little, started killing my belief that my story would ever have a happy ending. That was my past, which led to a day when I wanted to erase myself from the face of the Earth.

Maybe now I’m in need of a radical change, a new approach. Perhaps a new type of guy? One with half of his face purple-red…

Wait, what?

Rupert's voice pulls me from my thoughts.

"You ready?"

I nod with a crooked grimace, and the two of us leave the room.

Pedro's birthday is being held in the same club where karaoke takes place. This time, though, the staff have brought in tables covered with snacks and decorations. They're clearly trying to create a pleasant atmosphere, which I probably should appreciate.