"We were, it's just… you know how it is," he'd said in that dismissive, slightly slurred voice that made it clear he'd had a few too many already. Just enough to loosen his tongue so the truth could dance off it. "She's just a beta. She's so… boring."
Paul's laugh was awkward. Nervous. "Butyou'rea beta…"
"Yeah, but I want a pack. She doesn't," Mark had argued, as if he'd had this conversation a thousand times before in his head. "She refuses. Honestly, it's pathetic she thinks she'd ever be enough for me. For anyone."
"Damn, man, that's kind of harsh," Paul had said while my world was falling apart, pieces of me drifting into space. A part of me was convinced I was dreaming.
"Yeah, well, it's the truth," was Mark's callous response. "Besides, omegas are so much better in bed. So naturally submissive. That's not something she could ever give me."
And just like that, the final pieces of a heart holding together with glue shattered all over again. I wished I could say I left that night, but I didn't. Maybe a part of me didn't want to believe it. A part of me was grasping at straws, hoping maybe Mark was just drunk, talking shit he didn't mean to impress his friend.
As if that would make it better.
Finding him in bed with the omega who was so much better than I was, according to him, brought me down to reality. It was a crushing blow, but at least there was no longer any doubt.
The ache in my chest isn't as intense as it used to be as my focus comes back to the present and I find myself wondering if it has something to do with the pack that's surrounded me with physical reminders of their intentions, even when we're apart.
And there, half-hidden behind a particularly exuberant arrangement of lilies, is a stuffed animal. Not just any stuffed animal, but a bear wearing a tiny Grizzlies jersey with Darren's number on it. I pick it up, noticing the card tucked under its arm.
Something to cuddle you until I can. Miss you. —D
"Miss you too," I whisper to the empty apartment, hugging the bear against my chest.
This is ridiculous. It's been three days. Three days since I left their mansion with promises to see them soon, with the taste of them still on my lips and the ache of their touch still in my muscles. Three days of near-constant texts, calls, and floral invasions.
I should be overwhelmed. Smothered. Running for the hills.
Instead, I'm fighting a giddy smile as I arrange the bear on my couch with the throw pillows, making sure it has a good view of the apartment.
The doorbell rings again, and this time it is Jessica, her eyes widening comically as she steps inside.
"Holy shit," she says, spinning in a slow circle. "Did a florist's shop throw up in here?Anda bakery?"
"Pretty much," I admit, moving a vase of tulips so she can set down her purse. "This is what happens when you're being courted by five different men, each with his own idea of romance."
"Courted," she repeats, a grin spreading across her face. "Listen to you, Miss Jane Austen."
"Shut up," I say affectionately. "Help me find space for these shipping boxes before I drown in pollen."
Jessica picks her way through the floral labyrinth, examining the offerings with undisguised curiosity. She pauses at a particularly elaborate arrangement of exotic orchids. "Well, theyall have good ideas, I'll give them that." She peers at the card. "Who's 'Z'?"
"Zayn," I explain, clearing a space on the dining table. "The one with the dark eyes who looks like he could either seduce you or murder you, and you'd thank him either way."
She snorts. "That tracks." Her eyes fall on the bakery box. "Please tell me those are edible and not some weird flower-shaped pastry thing."
"Very edible," I confirm. "Aidan baked them himself. The goalie."
"The cute one with the freckles?" She's already opening the box, eyeing the contents with naked desire. "Damn, girl. He can bake too?"
"You have no idea," I say, remembering his cinnamon rolls, still warm from the oven. "Help yourself. I'm going to need a bigger apartment at this rate."
"I volunteer as tribute to help eat the food," Jessica says solemnly, already biting into a chocolate croissant. "Oh my god," she moans, eyes closing in bliss. "I think I just had a tiny orgasm."
"Seems to be going around," I mutter, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.
Jessica's eyes snap open, zeroing in on me with laser focus. "Alexandra Marie Goodwin," she says, using my full name like she always does when she's about to interrogate me. "You havenottold me nearly enough about last weekend."
I busy myself with the shipping labels, avoiding her gaze. "We had a nice time. They're very... attentive."
