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I glance between him and the shelter, and sigh. This time it’s easier to step back, and his hand falls away. “I’m not an omega.”
“Not only omegas need help,” he says, but I’m shaking my head.
“I’m good, thanks. I don’t need help.” It’s part of my second mantra. “I have to get to work.”
“Wait, Brinlee?—”
“Sorry,” I whisper, because I truly am—I’m sorry I’m attracted to these gorgeous men but don’t have anything good to offer, sorry his scent is a hook inside me, sorry he already has a pack and therefore doesn’t need me, sorry, sorry…
My sneakers thump on the sidewalk in a hollow rhythm as I hurry away, wondering why I find these guys in front of me at every step, if that means we were fated to meet and cross paths, fated to be together, but then what is fate thinking? What is fate good for when it wasn’t meant to be?
“Brinlee!” I find Janice in the dressing room after my show of the night, getting ready for hers. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. Why is that?”
“We just don’t coincide much.” I sink into a chair by the wall and bend over to unbuckle my strappy sandals with their sky-high heels. I’m in a red dress today, my lips a matching hue. My fake lashes tickle my cheeks as I bend down. “I looked for you but you usually have different days and times.”
Janice is a beta. At least I think so. One may think designations are as clear-cut as the designation initials marked on our IDs, but I have discovered that many people feel like they’re something else entirely.
She turns around on her stool, dabbing at the lipstick on her lips. “Look at you, girl. You look exhausted. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly, frowning. “Do I have dark circles? I thought I used enough concealer.”
“I don’t need to see dark circles under your eyes to tell you’re tired.”
I shrug. “I just danced for an hour and did a mini lap dance in some prick’s tented lap.”
“And yet you don’t normally look so wiped out. Are you getting sick?”
“No, I’m… Will everyone stop asking if I’m okay?” I throw my sandals against the wall, and start tearing at my dress, wanting it off. “I’m fine. Being tired isn’t a crime.”
“Jesus, Brin, I know. Don’t… Let me help you take the dress off, you’ll tear it?—”
“No.” I lift a forbidding hand. “I got it. Go and do your show, okay?”
“Okay. Fine. Don’t get your panties all twisted up. You’re in a mood, I get it. Let me know when you feel like talking.”
Ouch.
She leaves and I take a few shuddery breaths, willing the sudden prickle of tears back down. She’s right, I see it now. Anger takes over when it gets too much. Better anger than ugly sobbing and spilling my heart out, right?
Sometimes, though, I’m not so sure.
Guilt swamps me, though I manage to keep the traitorous tears back. Poor Janice. I’m like a fire-breathing dragon when I get prickly. And maybe it’s also that time of the month? I have to check my tracker app. I need to apologize, later, when she’s finished.
I’ll wait. I have a book I borrowed from the library the other day. I’ll be fine.
I have a book with me, and when I have a book, I’m never lonely.
If only Sawyer and the McGraw Pack didn’t take up so much space inside my head… It’s always been me and my brother, and then just me against the world. I have my job, my books, and coffee. What else does a girl need?
For the first time, the answer isn’t instant and straightforward.
Sighing, I fish the book out of my bag and start reading.
I’m lost somewhere in the land of Faerie with a broody Fae king and his human bride. They are bickering, but you can tell that underneath the banter, they’ve fallen for each other already. There’s a certain formulaic structure to these tales, so that I can more or less predict what will happen next, but that doesn’t take away from the pleasure I get reading them. On the contrary, it feels familiar, cozy, and pleasant.
They will fight, they will give in, a catastrophe will tear them apart the moment they start realizing their feelings for one another, and they will fight to be together for the grand finale and the happy ending.
As it’s supposed to be.
