Chapter 64
“Hey Professor…Oak…See what I did there…I was trying to make a Pokémon reference…You know what, never mind. Thanks for inviting us over!” If the way Al is staring at me is any indication, he is not thrilled by my presence.
Oh well, he can fuck off; they invited me, they have to put up with my bad jokes now. It’s like vampire rules or some shit.
“I’m in the kitchen! Spence, I need a hand when you can, please.
” Paul’s voice comes from the other side of the house, but he doesn’t sound ‘panicked in need of help,’ just ‘regular in need of help.’ Still, Spence rushes off to join him, leaving me with the glaring mini alpha sitting on the couch in the living room.
Seriously, he’s at home, he still looks stuffy as fuck.
Who in their right mind wears a tweed jacket at home?
Oh wait, nailed it. Right mind, indeed. I see what I did there.
Greg smiles softly at me, and I realize I’m grinning like an idiot at my own rambling inner monologue of bad jokes and random shit.
Sometimes I have to make sure my brain to mouth filter is working so I don’t say the silent stuff out loud.
Most of the time I don’t mind. If somebody is offended by me, that’s their issue, not mine—but for some reason, I want these guys to like me.
Even the surly one that’s staring at me right now.
“Sup, Teach? How goes the grading of the papers? Are you inspiring young minds or crushing all their hopes and dreams with just the swipe of a pen?” If the answering scoff is anything to go by, it’s the latter.
If he doesn’t want to talk, I’ll just stand here and chat with myself, or stare at him until he’s uncomfortable.
I’m good with either option really, the question is which one will bother him the most?
Before I have a chance to figure it out, Paul comes down the hallway from the kitchen and dining room.
He’s dressed in a pair of faded jeans with a soft-looking green T-shirt, and a pinstriped apron that has a boutonniere printed on a fake pocket.
It’s cute in a slightly neurotic way, like it wants to be masculine, but aprons just aren’t, no matter how hard they try.
Spencer is right behind him, still wearing his gym clothes but also armed with a pair of shark oven mitts, holding a casserole pan that’s still sizzling.
I didn’t know they made oven-mitts that large, let alone novelty ones, but there they are.
“Paul, do you want me to put this on the table or the counter…or the stovetop? I didn’t see any side dishes…
does this have side dishes? It’s kind of a one pan meal…
sort of, after you cook the beef and rice, I guess.
That means it’s not one pan. But where do you want it? ”
Paul spins around on his heel. I don’t know what he was out here looking for, but he seems appalled that he was followed.
“Shit, Spence. You’re gonna burn yourself.
Just take it back and put it on the stovetop.
I’ll get out a serving platter or something to keep it from damaging the tabletop.
Just…take it back before you get hurt, ok big guy?
” Spence nods up and down like a bobble head and wanders back the way he came, humming to himself as he goes, and Paul’s attention turns to us, and the other alpha in the room.
“Al, I know you’re busy.” I don’t miss the emphasis to the alpha who is clearly not busy.
“But could you please offer to take their coats, or get them a water or something. I can’t be a proper host alone, I need some damned backup.
Now, have you seen the bag of groceries I brought home?
I need butter for my cornbread and the damned lettuce, and I can’t find it.
Dear god, did I leave it in the car? Never mind the niceties.
Al, go check the cruiser and see if I left the shopping bags out there. ”
The smaller man stands up and bolts for the front door, apparently relieved to have a job that doesn’t involve interacting with us.
Moose’s voice comes floating out of the kitchen.
“Hey Paul, do you want me to take the potatoes off the stovetop before they boil ov—” there’s a loud hiss of steam and then, “Never mind. I’m just gonna take these potatoes off. Do you want me to drain them?”
Paul cusses quietly to himself, and I’m only able to make out one of every few words before he calls back, “No, just turn down the heat, I need to check…you know what, I’ll be right there, don’t touch anything else.
” He hurries out of the room while calling back to us.
“Please take off your jackets and just toss them on the couch. We have water and soda right now if you want something to drink. I’ll be back in a minute. ”
His voice is quieter when talking to Spence.
“I need to make sure they’re soft so we don’t get lumpy potatoes…
Did…Did you drain and rinse these? Why are they cold?
No, they need to be hot to melt the butter.
Fine, I’ll just nuke the butter till it melts…
I don’t know. Hopefully nobody wants mashed potatoes…
Well, of course I’m not going to serve instant potatoes to guests, what kind of heathen does that shit?
” Moose’s voice is nothing more than a murmur in reply before he sulks back out to the living room.
What the hell could be taking Al so damned long to look for a grocery bag? Spence takes our coats off the couch, looking confused for a moment before calling to the kitchen. “I found the bags; they were behind the couch…that doesn’t make any sense.”
Paul comes back, rubbing his temples. “It does if you know that I stopped to turn the vacuum on so it would run while I made dinner. I set those down while I was cleaning out the trap and apparently walked off and forgot them. Thank you for finding it. Can you go tell Al that we’re good?
Dinner will be in about ten minutes.” The poor man looks like he’s going to collapse, and I promise myself that no matter how the food tastes, I’m just going to eat it and say thank you, because he put in so much effort.
After all, it’s stuffed peppers, right? How can anybody mess those up?
Well…that’s not what I was expecting, to be sure.
Apparently stuffed peppers means something different depending on where you are.
Regardless, there is no deep-fried poblano goodness in front of me.
I don’t think these things even have cheese.
How the hell can you have a stuffed pepper without cheese?
A proper dinner should always have cheese.
What’s wrong with these alphas? Greg doesn’t seem confused, and my mind briefly wonders if this is a guy thing, like pranking the omega.
But no, my beta wouldn’t do that, neither would Moose.
Though I wouldn’t put it past Al…and I’m not sure about Paul.
Obviously, I’ve eaten bell peppers before, but this is a new thing.
They smell good, but it’s not what I was expecting.
Though I guess that’s my fault for making an assumption when someone said stuffed peppers.
Oh well, at least that explains the mashed potato conversation earlier.
It sounded a bit odd as a side dish to what I’m used to.
At least cornbread is familiar; it’s not like that can really be different.
I pick up one of the fluffy corn muffins as Paul watches on.
His trepidation is understandable—everybody wants to know if you like all the hard work they put in, and this is the most standardized thing on the table, a food I’m used to, something that my family makes.
Except that when I take a bite, it’s not.
They’re all slathering butter on theirs, which is fine, a matter of taste, but it’s so much denser than what I’m used to, and I nearly choke on the unfamiliar texture and savory flavor.
Chewing slowly, I reach for my water to wash it down.
It’s not bad, just a shock, and poor Paul looks crestfallen for a moment before he looks away, quickly asking Spence how his day at work went.
I’m fucking this all up. They invited me over and cooked for me and I’m making it weird.
Al is now talking about work while Spencer practically inhales his entire plate of food, and I can’t put this off any longer.
I spear a forkful of this odd amalgam of filling and take a small bite.
The seasonings are surprising, not overly spicy, but as expected, it’s taken on a lot of the slightly bitter bell pepper flavor.
It’s strange but good, and I raise my eyes to see Paul looking hopefully in my direction.
Al has stopped talking, and Spence is grabbing another muffin to soak up the pepper juice on his plate.
There’s no way for them to know that people watching me eat makes me really uncomfortable.
I’ve struggled with my weight my whole life, and at home it always feels like I’m being judged for how much I consume, someone gauging every calorie I take in and then blaming me for not having enough self-control.
Deep down, logically, I know that’s bullshit.
Most people don’t give a shit what I eat or how much, but learned behavior can be hard to break, especially when you were raised with it.
Shelly and Sasha always make snide remarks, which is ironic considering how wide Shelly’s ass has gotten, but Mamá never explicitly says anything.
That’s not to say she didn’t move food away from me on the table if she thought I was gaining weight.
It’s part of why I liked eating at Tio Miguel’s so much.
He was so used to feeding all of my alpha cousins that the tiny amount I ate wasn’t even a blip on the radar.
None of them ever acted like I was a burden.
His wife often tried to feed me more, or send me home with food for a snack later.
It’s sad to think that I miss them more than my own family.
Of course, after four alpha sons her body had gone soft, and Tio seemed to love every inch of it, so maybe it was just a personal issue Mamá had.
I realize I’m about to start crying thinking of them and try to sniff it away quietly.
All it does is cause Paul to swear loudly and reach for my plate.
Greg is watching me, concern written across his features, but he stops Paul’s hand before it can make contact.
His voice is quiet, meant for the alpha, but not so quiet that I can’t hear.
“No, leave it. It’s not…it’s complicated.
But she’s fine; she just needs a minute.
” He’s louder when he addresses me directly.
“Sarah, Love. Do you want to step away for a second? Can I get you anything?” I appreciate him more than I can say.
He doesn’t judge; he just gives me time to collect my shit and try to function like a normal fucking human being.
“Yeah…yeah, I’m gonna go…away for just a minute.
I’ll be back in just a second.” I retreat to the bathroom they showed me earlier, just working on breathing while my mind spins out on my own insecurities, and I try to get my shit together.
These alphas are sweet; they weren’t judging me.
Hell, most alphas seem to be hard-wired to take care of omegas and make sure they have all the necessities like food and shelter and cuddles.
Not that cuddles are required for survival.
I’d gone a long ass time without them, but now that I have Greg, I’m getting all he can give me.
I briefly considered riding him around piggyback when we have to walk around campus, just so I could get more snuggles in.
I hadn’t realized how touch-starved I’d been for affection before he came along, but it feels so good to be near him.
These alphas and my beta have caused me more internal conflict than I ever thought possible, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.