A red notification bubble shows in the corner. Messages. Two of them.
The first is from Andrew, the doctor from my disastrous double date. The timestamp shows it was sent weeks ago.
Lexie, I wanted to apologize for the other night. I thought Brandon was ready to look for something serious, but old habits die hard. If we can make it up to you again, just let me know.
It's nice enough, and probably sincere, but I can't muster any enthusiasm for a do-over. If Andrew had been truly interested, he would have shut down Brandon's sales pitch or followed me out of the restaurant. Instead, he sat there while I climbedout a bathroom window. Not exactly knight-in-shining-armor material.
And clearly, this is a pattern. I'm not quite that desperate.
I don't think.
The second message is from Brandon himself, sent three days ago.
Hey there! Sorry for the miscommunication at dinner. Didn't mean to come on so strong with the business talk! But since we're on the subject, I've been thinking about your situation, and I'd like to have another conversation. How about coffee? My treat!
Yeah, no, I'm definitely notthatdesperate.
"Unbelievable," I mutter, closing both messages without responding.
Brandon genuinely can't see why ambushing a date with insurance brochures might be inappropriate. And Andrew sat back and let it happen, only reaching out after I'd ghosted them both.
I guess some betas can give alphas a run for their money in the audacity department.
I take another swig of wine and go to the search page. Not because I'm looking. Just because Mark's smug invitation is still sitting on my counter, and I hate the idea that he thinks I'm home alone with no prospects while he plans his perfect pack ceremony.
Even if he's right.
I start scrolling through the available profiles, applying no filters, just mindlessly flipping through faces and descriptions. Most are the usual—alphas seeking omegas, omegas looking for packs, betas searching for compatible matches. Nothing catches my interest until I reach a profile with no photo, just a default silhouette.
The username is "PuckPack5" and the headline reads:High-profile pack seeks female beta to round out our dynamic (we're all hot, promise!)
I snort into my wine glass. Sure, buddy. That's why there's no photo, because you're all so devastatingly attractive you'd crash the server.
But the cockiness of it makes me click anyway. I'm already in a mood. The profile text is surprisingly detailed for a faceless account.
We're a close-knit pack of five professional males (four alphas, one omega) in our 20s and early 30s. Due to our public-facing careers, we're keeping things discreet online, but happy to share pics in private messages with serious inquiries.
A member of our pack recently presented as an omega (late bloomer) and has made it clear he's strictly into women, which means our pack dynamic needs to evolve. Basically, he's tired of us looking at him like the last can of beer in the fridge and we could definitely use some feminine energy in the house to balance things out.
No drama, no games, just looking for the right person to complete our family. Intelligence, independence, and a sense of humor required. Pack experience not necessary. We're figuring this out as we go too.
I reread the description, oddly intrigued in spite of myself. A male omega who recently presented? That's unusual enough to be potentially legitimate. And the straightforward, slightly irreverent tone feels refreshingly honest compared to the polished desperation of most pack profiles I've browsed.
But no photos is still a red flag. They could be anyone. Catfishers, creeps, or worse. And even if they are this "high-profile pack" they claim to be, do I really want that kind of complication? Being with one public figure would be challenging enough, let alone five.
Plus, there's the omega factor. Even if he's not interested in the alphas romantically, he's still an omega in a pack of alphas. The dynamics there would be... complex, to say the least. Every pack I've encountered puts their omega front and center. Would I always be second place by default? The afterthought they added because their omega won't touch them?
No thanks. I've spent enough of my life feeling like someone's consolation prize. I'd rather be alone. I'm good at that, at least.
I swipe past the profile, continuing my mindless scrolling.
No one else stands out. No one who doesn't already have an omega in the pack, or isn't looking for one.
When I go to close out, a popup appears I've never seen before. Blind Match?
A cursory glance of the new feature reveals it to be an algorithmic matchmaking service that pairs users up for a blind date, no strings attached. It's supposedly based on some highly advanced compatibility system that sounds like marketing BS, but what the hell?
It can't do a worse job than I have. And it's not like I have to go if it matches me with a weirdo. The process is simple, too. Just two questions.
