12. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Ursula
I wanted to do a little dance of joy when Kimmy handed me my schedule for the day. I am lined up for a series of second dates, starting with Ronan, Ash, and Mavren—followed by Teddy and Lysander. I’m so excited for the dates I almost don’t notice the name at the bottom of the list, Anton.
I blink dumbly and try to remember how I filled out my form yesterday when submitting my ratings and date requests to the production team. I hadn’t filled in anything for Anton. No request to have a date, no preemptive denial of future dates–largely in part because I hadn’t thought our date had gone particularly well or bad. Up until this very moment, I never would have considered that he would have had any remote interest in me.
Maybe they needed everyone to go on a certain number of dates for shooting schedules or B-roll purposes—and they’d simply added him to my list to play for time. Either way, I wasn’t going to detract focus away from preparing for the dates I was looking forward to—or the slightly more spicy conversations I was setting myself up to have later in the day.
With no small amount of anticipation, I freshen up; abandoning my yoga pants and hoodie for a pair of maroon bike shorts and an oversized off the shoulder t-shirt. My hair refreshed from a wash and deep condition—curls out and in full force, though my dates wouldn’t benefit from my comfy-cozy-chic behind our separation walls.
My first date is with Ronan, who greeted me with a sunny:
“Hello Miz Ursula, how are you doing today?” like an old fashioned gentleman might.
“I’m doing quite well, and yourself?” I sing-song, stretching out across the couch, my heart already beginning to beat faster at the prospect of our conversations today and the possibility of exchanging scent cards with my potential matches as early as tonight .
“I must admit, I absolutely hate the restrictions on my outdoor time here,” he confesses, ruefully.
“Yeah, it’s much more restrictive than I thought it would be in general, but I guess that kind of comes with the territory of the show,” I concede.
“Right, you gotta make sure that people avoid each other and all the outside noise —the whole giving up your phone thing etc,” Ronan adds regretfully.
“Other than being cooped up inside and in the bitsy little courtyard, how has this whole experience been treating you so far?” I ask innocently, silently praying that he doesn’t start talking about how he feels about any of the other women he might be interested in here.
“It’s been pretty good. Really strange going from the high rotation of all those dates yesterday back to the total isolation of my little studio,” he laughs weakly. “Probably good for me to be able to get some alone time to recharge the batteries though, so I can’t complain too much,” Ronan admits.
“Yeah, I did about as much socializing in a single day as I usually do in about three or four months yesterday,” I laugh, picking at little bits of fuzz on my blanket anxiously, trying to ignore the mechanical whirring sounds of the automated cameras moving and focusing their lenses on me as I sweat how I’m going to bring up the topics of scent cards and interpack relationships.
“It’s kind of wild to think about, but some of us will be like—getting loaded into a plane and going on some island holiday in a few weeks,” Ronan laughs, a creeping silence filling the space after the dregs of his laugh fade.
“Yeah, about that.” I squirm anxiously on the loveseat—thankful that Ronan can’t see me perched on the edge of the cushion like some sort of nervous bird.
“I know that we got straight to the trauma dumping yesterday,” I continue, trying to keep my tone light, to retain that ease and intimacy of the day before. “But we didn’t really talk about any of the fun stuff.”
“The ‘fun’ stuff, huh? Such as?” Ronan immediately takes the bait, the intrigue readily apparent in his bouncy tone.
“Well, I guess the first order of business would be to establish that you are interested in exchanging scent cards tonight,” I float the idea casually, as if I’m not literally holding my breath, waiting for his response.
“I would be more than a little interested,” Ronan confirms almost instantly.
Good, no hesitation.
“I didn’t want to be presumptuous, but after our little heart to heart yesterday, I have to admit that I feel closer to you than almost any of the others I’ve been dating.” My blush is so furious I can feel the heat rising off my face. Again, I’m thankful Ronan can’t actually see me as I’m doing my absolute best to ‘play it cool’.
“I feel the same. I think that opening up so much so quickly really freaked a lot of my dates out,” he laughs before pressing on. “So…scent cards were the first order of business. I’m down to exchange. Obviously, that won’t happen till later… So what’s the second order of business?”
I ball my hands into fists and sit on them to keep myself from chewing on my nails and cuticles on camera—even though every one of my self-soothing instincts is screaming at me to do something to relieve my jangling nerves.
“There’s the small matter of interpack relations .” The best I can do for now is to clear my throat.
I can hear his laugh—that soft wind-through-golden-barley rasp before he speaks.
“What about them?” he teases.
“Well, perhaps I jumped the gun a bit here–” I flounder, realizing how heavy handed I am approaching the conversation, without the ability to hit any kind of ‘reset’ button.
“Oh?” he chuckles again, the warm rasp somehow soothing my nerves even though I’m preparing to spiral.
“I mean, it seemed totally gross to like—open the topic with invasive and specific questions about your sexuality especially after what you told me about your past yesterday…but I guess that’s kind of what I’ve ended up doing anyway,” I groan, chewing anxiously on my bottom lip until it begins to seep coppery blood into my mouth.
“No, no—not at all. I think the only way you can ask casually without making it a big deal is to talk about ‘pack dynamics’ in general,” Ronan assures me. “If you had opened with, ‘So, your dad kicked you out for being bi–does that mean you are cool with fucking other members of our pack?’ I would not have been into it, that’s for sure,” he laughs.
“Yeah, no—I hate it when I tell people that I’m pansexual, most dudes respond with requests for threesomes with other women without hesitation. Ew.” I shudder.
“Exactly! You didn’t give off that vibe at all,” Ronan laughs, and I sit in wait—allowing him to direct the conversation.
“That being said, I don’t think that I could handle being in a pack where I would be expected to keep my hands off of all my other packmates besides my omega,” Ronan’s voice takes on a low thrum. While I can’t scent him in this ‘bubble’, I could swear I feel the faintest reach of his aura—calm but powerful, seeping through the walls.
“Oh.” My stomach tightens and I press my legs together. “Well, alright—that’s pretty definitive—and more than ok with me.” I can tell my laugh is a little breathier than usual, but I am hoping Ronan doesn’t notice.
“It’s nice to be on the same page there,” he purrs appreciatively, emboldening me to jump in with both feet.
“Speaking of being on the same page,” I begin, taking a deep breath before barreling on, “while I am hardly a virgin, I…have never actually gone through a heat before. If I end up forming a pack here, it will be my first time.” I manage to choke out—my throat dry as dust.
There is a poignant beat of silence before Ronan asks “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude but–do you mean you’ve never gone through a heat before? Not alone, not in a center with non-partner-helpers, but just…not at all? ”
I can feel the panic sweat beading beneath my bangs and over my top lip as I unscrew the cap of my canteen and slug down a few gulps of water in an attempt to quench my dry mouth and throat.
“Never.” I clear my throat again before clarifying, “I know that going through a heat alone can really fuck an omega up, but I didn’t have any serious partners or pack—and while going to a center and…getting through with professional help didn’t really appeal to me,” I trail off before jumping back in to add, “Not that I have any kind of judgements about anyone who would—or anyone who works as a heat helper! I just, I don’t know, I didn't ever feel like it was for me.” I’m on the edge of tears now, my voice wavering with a pending sob-fest.
“Wow, I guess I had been told so many times how unhealthy it supposedly was to suppress an omega’s heat for too long–” he begins but I cut him off.
“It isn’t good for my health, physical or mental,” I admit, my voice dripping with shame. “I’ve been trying to outrun that truth for a long time, but recently it’s been catching up to me…it’s the biggest reason I’m here,” I sniffle, tears spilling down my face.
“Bet you thought we got most of the trauma dumping out of the way yesterday and today was going to be fun, huh? Well, aren’t I just full of surprises.” I hiccup down a sob, forcing a fake angry laugh at myself.
“Hey, you don’t have to do that you know—not with me,” Ronan soothes me quietly from his side of the barrier.
“Do what?” I push my glasses on top of my head and wipe at my eyes with the corner of my blanket, big smears of black mascara scrawling across the pink fleece as I dry my inky tears.
“Talk shit about yourself, or blame yourself for stuff that isn’t your fault—or isn’t even bad to begin with.” I can hear his voice, closer to the wall than it was before.
Instinctively, I slide off the couch, walking on my knees the short distance of carpet to the pane of frosted glass mounted against the wall; green and purple lights dancing across its surface.
“Okay,” I concede.
“I don’t care one bit how experienced or not experienced you are, Ursula,” he adds, his voice sweet—with his lovely vowels and lilting charm.
“You don’t?” It sounds a little pathetic, but I can’t help from asking—needing the additional affirmation almost as much as a breath of air.
“No. I don’t think anyone worthy of being in your pack would, either.”
“Thank you,” I hum, truly grateful.
“The only thing I would care about is making sure that your first heat was the best that it could be.” His purr takes on the edge of a growl and I have to suppress the urge to press myself up against the glass to get closer to the feel of the sound.
“Would it be too presumptuous of me to say that I’m looking forward to it?” I’m surprised by the undercurrent of need in my own voice, but I can’t really be bothered to care right now.
“I don’t know—would it be too much for me to say that I am already waiting for tonight? To catch your scent for the first time?” His cool demeanor has warmed, a searing heat lurking just beneath his words. “To meet the others drawn to you—to test those waters.”
I lay a hand over my pounding heart and allow myself to gently rest my forehead against the wall.
“Ronan, I have to be honest. I’m a little worried about just how intense this is all going to get. I’m sitting on the other side of a fucking wall from you—no scent, unable to touch you…not to mention I’m still dosed on serious suppressants.” I give a giddy little laugh. “And I'm getting pretty worked up just from talking to you,” I pant.
“Just take it easy, sugar,” Ronan pacifies me. “We’ve many bridges to cross. Let’s handle that one when we get there.”
I’m so flustered by my date with Ronan that I genuinely contemplate taking a cold shower between our rendezvous and my date with Ash. Since time is tight and I feel instantly less flustered as soon as I get out of the date bubble—I settle for my mandated change of clothes (in order to create the illusion of the passage of time on the show) and wiping the runny makeup from my face, heading into my session with Ash clean-faced and in a baggy black jumpsuit and cardigan.
“Good morning!” I greet my empty bubble as I enter the room, my blanket and notebook tucked under my arm.
“Morning Ursula!” Ash responds from the other side of the wall.
“How are you on this fine…is it a Tuesday?” I blink, genuinely lost in the passage of time since arriving to this bizarre ‘bubble’ where there are no windows to the outside and our typically omnipresent mobile phones, tablets, and computers have been stripped away from us.
“It’s funny, until you said something—I had completely forgotten,” Ash laughs before adding, “Mostly I’ve been thinking about how we’re—uh, supposed to exchange some scent cards tonight,” he tries to play it casual, but I can feel how difficult it is for him to maneuver in this very tricky social space the show has created.
“Yeah, I won’t lie—I’ve been kinda sweating it,” I laugh, trying to match his vibe as much as possible.
“Oh yeah? Gonna be turning a lot of us down?” he chuckles with false bravado.
“No, no—the exact opposite, to be honest,” I quickly correct him, eager to ease any of his fears. “I uh, actually think I’ll be asking to exchange scent cards with almost everyone I’m going on a second date with today,” I admit.
“Really?” Ash tests the waters cautiously.
“Yep,” I confirm, falling silent—allowing him to query further.
“So um, how many of us are there?” he floats the question—it warms my heart and puts a smile on my face to hear him say ‘how many of us, ’ already slipping under the mantle of pack—at least in theory.
“Well, as long as no one has a complete rejection of anyone’s scent,” I begin, heartbeat hammering in my ears as I continue on under the veneer of nonchalance, “We have at least one breeder in our configuration,” I swallow down the edge of panic—realizing that Ash can say nothing about his designation, and that I may very well be raising the alarm for him, if he’s a beta, theta, or delta. “And of course, that no one would object to interpack relationships—even if they may not opt to uh, erm– participate in relationships outside of their connection to me, the omega,” I hurry over the last part, doing my best not to become tongue tied as my overactive imagination threatens to distract me from the conversation. “There would be five of you –er men, that is…and of course one of me—so a pack of six,” I finally manage to get out after a rash of over explanation; important information and questions littered like landmines for Ash to approach as he will.
He doesn’t respond right away. While it’s understandable, it doesn’t keep the dread from bubbling up from deep in my gut as I sit, suspended in dead air.
I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on the small sounds in the room, trying to see if I can hear the sound of the door on the other side of the wall—the lock mechanism clicking and the hinges softly sighing as Ash makes his escape—or if I’m just having an auditory hallucination of a worst case scenario .
“Okay, that was—surprisingly more for me to unpack than I expected—considering I signed up to be here,” Ash laughs worriedly.
I wait, ready for him to be the first rejection.
“Actually, before I get into that stuff—” he changes gears somewhat jarringly, barreling down another track of thought entirely. “Can you tell me what about me, and my prospective packmates too—can you tell me what makes you interested in exchanging scent cards with me–er, us?”
I’m taken aback, but I do my best to answer his question without violating the delicate rule structure of Build-A-Pack-Blind .
“Well, I guess I’ll start with you—and for the other guys…I won’t use names, obviously, but I can still give you the general idea of how I’m feeling. Is that cool?”
There’s less silence this time before Ash responds,
“Yeah, yeah, that’s totally cool.”
I take a deep breath to steady myself and push on.
“I liked talking with you yesterday, especially about music.” I do my best not to worry at my bottom lip with my teeth—the teensy split I put in my lip during my conversation with Ronan still seeping blood through my protective minty chapstick. “I can tell by the way that you carried yourself through our discussion about my failed music career that you’re not some kind of tacky show-off or letchy impresario.” My words become more steady as I go, the genuine feeling bolstering them with their strength. “I won’t lie… As soon as I got back to my room last night, I realized I didn’t even ask which instruments you actually play, but I already started thinking about playing music together—nothing like, professionally. I’m not trying to mooch off of your career or anything, but like—playing together for the sake of our own enjoyment.”
I take a breath—allowing the words I’ve just vomited at Ash to actually land.
“It’s going to make me sound like a showoff asshole now if I say that I can play almost anything,” Ash laughs again, his apprehension easing. “But, I kinda love that honestly. I wanna play music with you too, Ursula—I wanna hear you really belt it with that voice, I can tell that you can!”
I laugh, because my father is the same way—a few afternoons with just about any instrument and he’s proficient—even if he only has true mastery of a few; piano, violin, classical guitar.
“Nah, I know the ridiculously prodigious type. I can believe it—but I hope you’re not getting your hopes up for some kind of legendary vocalist when all you’re going to get is me.”
“Easy, don’t disappoint me then!” he shoots back, giving me the courage to keep on track.
“Ok, fine! I’ll do my best not to let you down,” I pledge, steeling myself before the next part.
“As for the other guys…well, I already told this to one of them, I care about the happiness of my whole pack. Whoever that’s going to end up being.” I close my eyes and do my best to steady my breathing. “I’m a little bit of a special case, because… Well, the truth is that I’ve never actually gone through a heat before.” My voice cracks on the word ‘before’ so that ‘be’ and ‘fore’ are entirely different pitches.
“What!?” Ash can’t contain his surprise—interjecting with obvious concern.
I cover my face with my hands—adrenaline spiking as I wait for his response.
“I mean, I’m sorry—I think I might have misheard you.” He clears his throat before clarifying, “Did you just say you’ve never gone through a heat before?”
I’m contemplating just running from the bubble, straight down the hall to my bedroom–and locking myself in the bathroom to have a good hysterical cry where the camera crews can’t see me, when I hear Ash’s voice again–more quiet, more reserved once more.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out—like I’m not being one of those guys who is a virgin-fetishizer or whatever.”
“I’m not a virgin!” I chime in—quick to make sure he’s not getting the wrong idea.
“Yes—no, I mean—that’s not what I meant!” Ash fumbles with his words, desperate to make me understand. “I didn’t mean like virgin, virgin—I just mean like…” he trails off, the dirty details scattering to the winds of the unsaid.
“I’ve never taken a knot, no,” I say, instantly mortified. “Nor have I made a nest,” I move on quickly in order to spare my smarting pride. “Because of that, I’ve been sensitive to selecting different prospective pack members who I think would mesh well—exploring our different levels of intimacy with one-another.”
My words hang in the air, another gulf of silence extending—though this time I’m more sure that it’s merely Ash processing all the information I’ve just dumped on him rather than him preparing to make tracks.
“ Ahem , uh–I , I didn’t mean to…what I’m trying to say is, erm; I’m sorry if I came off as being like, sexually aggressive or anything. I’m not trying to be a creep, I just was surprised that’s all.” I can hear the gulp before he speaks again. “Do you like…expect all your packmates to…be intimate with each other?” he quickly adds, “Or is it like—just that some dudes might uh, be into that kind of thing but some of us are…not so much?”
“Oh god, no—no I don’t expect anything out of any of you! I just, I mean—I want everyone to be happy with whatever works for them, and I just wanna make sure it’s clear to all of you that I’m down for…well, whatever …” I trail off bashfully.
“Cool, cool, cool,” Ash rushes to fill the quiet space. “That’s sick, I just—I mean, I just wanted to check to make sure.” He lets out another nervous squeak that may have been meant to sound like a laugh, but it hasn’t really measured up.
“So…does that clear things up for you? Because I can—” I offer, but before I can finish, Ash is already running his mouth a mile a minute.
“Oh! Nah-nah-nah, you covered it pretty crystal clear honestly, and to be totally full disclosure on my end…I’m all the way down to exchange scent cards with you and the guys.”
I pump my fist into the air in silent victory.
“Wanna know another little secret? It’s kinda outta pocket but, I mean…” He lets out a little snicker, his nervousness playful and sticky sweet instead of the abject terror of earlier.
“Of course—turn out those pockets, sir!” I encourage him.
“I’m kind of excited by the idea of being part of your first heat,” he rumbles low, almost a growl.
“Funny story. I’m kind of excited about it too,” I purr back before we both explode into relieved laughter.