Chapter Twenty – Colter
Raeka sits directly beside me, her arm hooked through mine, her cheek resting comfortably on my shoulder.
We’re outside, on the patio in the back, under the moonlight.
My tablet rests on my legs, while the bag of pretzels sits on her lap.
She’s talking about the most recent television show she fell in love with, some post-apocalyptic show where the world was swallowed in nukes and humanity somehow survived.
Not the kind of show I’d peg her for, but then again, I don’t really know her.
I don’t know her, but I want to.
It’s bizarre. It’s not something I thought I’d want. I wasn’t exactly the happiest person around when my uncle told me she was here for me. And then, when he informed me of what took place between her and Pax while they were in the city…
I thought that was it. I thought she’d decided that she didn’t want anything to do with me. I mean, who could blame her? I’m a beta. She’s an omega. If anyone is the prize, it’s her, not me. Omegas and alphas are meant for each other.
I never even wanted a mate. The thought honestly never crossed my mind.
How could I want a mate when I can barely get myself out of bed some days?
My uncle knows how badly I struggle. He caught me more than once trying to end it all.
This whole thing with Raeka is probably his last-ditch effort to make me happy.
The truth is, I don’t know if being happy is possible for me. Depression is all I know, the only emotion I feel anymore.
Except… that’s not true. Not right now. Not as I sit there with Raeka, listening to her talk about that silly TV show and how she kind of digs the ghoul—whatever that is. Some guy with no nose, from what it sounds like.
It makes absolutely no sense, but the thought crosses my mind: if she can dig a man with no nose, could she dig me and my scars?
The wind blows around us, and I’m keenly reminded of the fact that I gave her my hoodie. Stupid, really. I use hoodies and sleeves to hide my scars. What’s odd is that I didn’t even think about the scars; I just saw she was cold and wanted to warm her up.
And then she saw that I was cold and she scooted closer to me, hooked her arm through mine, and is now basically leaning against me while holding onto my arm.
We’re close. Closer than I thought we’d ever be, and it doesn’t feel wrong. I don’t want to push her away. No, if anything, I want to pull her closer. I want her on my lap instead of my tablet. I want to curl my arms around her and hold her, bury my face in her hair and just breathe. Just exist.
Lately, existing has been the hardest thing for me.
“Well, that’s enough about me. Why don’t you tell me something about yourself? Besides that you’re good with paint, I mean,” Raeka says, hugging my arm to her chest. Even through my hoodie, I can feel her chest rise and fall with even, slow breaths.
I turn on the tablet screen and type out, I’m not interesting like you.
“I don’t believe that.”
I’m really not. How could I be? I can’t remember the last time I left this house.
It’s gotten to the point where my uncle has stopped trying, stopped pushing me.
I don’t have friends; what few friends I used to have before the accident eventually stopped coming over.
I was too depressed for them. They couldn’t handle it.
Plus, when you’re a kid, you feel like you have to see your friends every day at school.
When I started being homeschooled, that was the final nail in the coffin.
She’s quiet when she whispers, “You’re hard on yourself.
I get that. I’m known to be hard on myself too, sometimes.
” She hugs my arm closer, and the only reason I let her is because it’s dark out.
Even with the shadows from my dimly-lit tablet, she won’t be able to see my scars.
“But you shouldn’t be. You have no reason to be so hard on yourself. ”
I type out, And you do?
“It’s different,” she says. “I’m an omega.
Things are always different for us, and even though most people would want you to believe they’re better for us, it’s all a fancy, pretty lie.
Everything sucks for us. We have no agency.
No ability to choose our own path in life.
We’re forced into this little box, regardless of whether or not we want to be in that box. ”
Is it really so bad being an omega? You’re taken care of—
Raeka scoffs as I type that. “In a perfect world, yes, we’re loved and cherished and all that crap. But you and I both know this world isn’t perfect.”
That’s the truth, and I can’t argue with her on that. Instead, I ask a question I’ve been wondering ever since finding out she isn’t here to be my uncle’s omega. Do you think you can really be happy here?
“I think I can. With you, I won’t have to worry about everything I have to worry about when it comes to alphas. Now it’s my turn: do you think you can be happy with me?”
I decide to answer her honestly: I don’t know… but I’m willing to try if you are.
She chuckles softly. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
I type out, You have a really pretty laugh. The moment it’s on my tablet screen, I want to quickly hit the backspace on the keyboard, but it’s too late. She saw it as I typed it, so deleting it would be pointless.
Raeka laughs again. “You’re sweet.” She lifts her head off my shoulder and does something I’m not expecting: she kisses my cheek.
Just a quick, soft peck. It’s over before I realize she’s doing it, and where her lips touch tingles long after she pulls away.
“You’re pretty cute, too, even in those sweats. ”
I’m suddenly very thankful that there isn’t more light out here—I think I’m blushing, as stupid as it is.
Obviously, I don’t have any experience when it comes to girls. I’ve never dated, never kissed anyone… never done more. I was so messed up that none of that stuff even crossed my mind, but that was before. I’d be lying if I say it doesn’t cross my mind now.
Maybe my uncle was right in choosing her. Maybe she is perfect for me.
The warmth of the sun wakes me up early the next morning—way earlier than I typically get up. Usually, I’m awake most of the night and asleep half the next day, but that bright blue sky above isn’t blocked out by curtains. My eyelids open, and I feel something strange on me.
A blanket?
I hear the hum of someone sleeping soundly, and I realize Raeka is next to me, curled into my side, snoozing hard. I turn my face towards her and study her. She really is peaceful when she’s asleep. Another blanket is draped over her, plus she still wears my hoodie.
I don’t remember why we didn’t go to bed last night, why we stayed out here and laid on the uncomfortable stone patio all night. Strangely enough, my body doesn’t feel too bad.
Though I’m the opposite of a morning person, falling back asleep is impossible, so I carefully get up, moving slowly so as to not wake Raeka.
As I get to my feet, I keep the blanket wrapped tightly around my body, making sure to keep my arms beneath it and hug it around me like a cape.
It’s hard to balance keeping the blanket so tight around me and grabbing and holding onto my tablet.
I don’t like showing my scars, for reasons that should be obvious.
Into the house I go, where I find my uncle in the kitchen, making himself some coffee.
I freeze when I see him, knowing he already heard me.
A few seconds later, he turns toward me, holding a cup of steaming coffee.
He’s just as put-together as he always is, wearing black pants and a long-sleeved, button-down shirt neatly tucked into the waistband of said pants, a black leather belt completing the ensemble.
“I see you and Raeka got comfortable last night,” he remarks, eyeing up the blanket I currently hold around my shoulders, my arms tucked beneath it.
All I can do is nod. I really want to ask him about the blanket, but I need to throw on another hoodie. It’s a weird thing, to not be comfortable in your own skin, even weirder that you’re uncomfortable in your own skin simply because of things you did to it in the past.
“You want breakfast?” he asks me. “Usually you’re not awake this early, but I can cook up some eggs if you want.”
My first instinct is to shake my head no and race upstairs—the only place I truly feel at ease anymore. But, after last night, I find I’m oddly calm, and I’m giving my uncle a nod before I realize it.
As Gideon goes to do just that, I head upstairs to change.
I don’t shower. I just throw on a different hoodie and abandon the blanket in my bedroom.
I’m about to head back downstairs when I spot my tablet resting on the edge of my bed; I should get in the habit of keeping it with me now that Raeka’s in the house.
I have a phone, but I don’t use it much.
I prefer the keyboard on my tablet screen, with bigger buttons, when I have to type things out.
So, before I return to the kitchen, I make sure to grab the tablet.
When I make it back to the kitchen, I find my uncle already in the process of whisking up some eggs. He watches as I set the tablet down, eventually asking, “Did you have fun?” He must mean with Raeka last night, even if he’s not specific about it.
I’m not someone who enjoys telling my uncle he was right, but I can’t lie about it, either. I tell him, Yes. She’s… not what I expected.
He chuckles softly and nods once as he turns to the stovetop and pours the whisked eggs onto a pan.
The now-empty bowl goes into the sink, and then he grabs a spatula.
“There’s definitely nothing typical about that one, no.
” The way he says it, the tone in his voice; I think I detect a hint of admiration—or maybe it’s something else.
I don’t say anything more until my uncle slides a plate of steaming hot scrambled eggs in front of me, complete with a fork. Before I go for the food, I sign, When did you come out last night? I didn’t hear you.