Page 67 of The Rust in Her Hair

Real fucking smooth.

Lyra smiles up at me, her eyes soft around the edges. "You know, I wouldn't have blamed you if you had dumped me at the ER and bolted. I'm sure you had better things to do than play nursemaid to a strange omega who ran away with only a few hundred dollars stuffed in her bra." She snorts loudly. "I didn’t really think any of it through."

And I open my mouth and blurt out, "Well, it was a well-stuffed bra."

Shock slams into me the second the words leave my mouth. Behind Lyra, Nico's eyes go wide.

I open my mouth to fix it, but heat's already flooding my face.

"Lyra, I didn't—" I try to back track, but the words won’t come.

Why does this tiny woman make me act like such an idiot?

And then Lyra laughs.

It breaks out of her all at once, head tipping back, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, one hand flying to the counter to steady herself. Not the careful little laugh she gave Mack. A real one.

My knees go a little weak with relief. I didn't ruin it. I made her laugh.

A slow, stupid grin spreads across my face.

Yeah. I did that.

Slowly, Lyra’s laughter winds down, and she wipes at the corner of one eye with the back of her hand. "Owen never told me his roommates were this funny," she says, still catching her breath. Then she reaches out and rests her hand on my forearm, light and warm. "Thank you, Adrian."

She says my name, and my heart kicks hard against my ribs.

"No problem," I mumble, as the heat travels up to my ears and around my neck.

"You three better get in here," Owen calls from the living room. "Mack's already four slices deep."

"Am naht," Mack protests, the words garbled around an obviously full mouth.

Lyra huffs a soft laugh and lets her hand fall from my arm as she glances back at Nico.

"Thank you again, alpha. For everything."

"Go eat before there's nothing left," Nico says with a sweet smile.

The omega smiles up at me one more time, quick and bright, then slips past us toward the living room, my shorts hanging down past her knees.

Nico moves to follow her. But as he passes, he leans in close, his shoulder brushing mine, and drops his voice.

"A well-stuffed bra?" he murmurs with a smirk. "Very smooth."

Then he's gone, following Lyra out of the room, and I'm left alone with my burning face.

Almost Ordinary

Lyra

It's been about a month since Adrian carried me out of that library closet. Somewhere in those weeks, this house stopped being a place I was hiding and started feeling like an actual home.

A few weeks ago, I started trying to help out around the house. I’ve actually learned how to work the washer and dryer. And it turns out I am excellent at making beds. I had no idea.

To be fair, I simply never tried before.

At my parent’s home, there was a sweet beta named Marta who came through every morning. She left the corners so sharp you could've served dinner off the duvet. When I was little, I would watch her from the doorway, until my mother caught me and explained that staring at the staff was rude.