Knot What You Expected (Reality TV Omegas #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Movies would have you believe brothers and sisters either don’t get along or, if they do, that the sister still kind of hates her brother, because he is an asshole chasing off all of her romantic prospects.

That’s never been the case for Calvin and me. He may be nine years older than me, but he’s my best friend. Always has been, from the moment I was born. I know I can go to him with any problem, and he’ll drop everything to be there for me, even if it means getting on a plane.

Which he did.

He got a plane and flew from Hollywood, California, to Hollywood, Florida, because Pops called him and told him I presented as an Omega.

I’m not being dramatic when I say that it was, without a doubt, the worst presentation ever. There is literally no way that anyone else had a worse presentation. It was so bad that I am still red-faced with mortification.

It’s a good thing he got here as fast as he did, because my life is over with a capital O. I may as well change my name and move across the world.

“It can’t have been that bad.” Calvin strokes my hair from where it pokes out of the blue quilt I’ve buried myself in. “No one’s presentation is perfect, and everything feels like the end of the world when you’re sixteen.”

“That’s because it is the end of the world! Ugh, it’s not just that it was imperfect, Calvin.” Now I’m whining. Is that going to be a thing now that I’m an Omega? “I could handle imperfect. It was the fact that I presented in front of the entire school!”

His hand pauses mid-stroke. “The whole school?”

“Yes!” I moan, the memory of that day making me want to run away and join the circus. “It was during the sophomore debate.”

“Debate…” he echoes.

“Yeah, I was arguing against that asshole William about Omega registration. He was for, I was against.”

“Of course you were. Apt topic.” My brother pulls back the corner of my quilt and crawls under with me. “I’m sure you were winning.”

“Of course I was! I finished the debate and got the trophy. But let me paint you a picture. Me, on the stage. All eyes on me. Spotlights. I tried to rebut his stupid argument that registration is for Omegas’ protection, which it isn’t, and I started whining!

Actual, honest-to-God whining, Calvin. My scent spiked, and everyone could smell me.

It was mortifying. But the worst part is that I slicked through my pants!

” I wail, burying my face in his chest. “My life is over. I can never go back.”

Calvin’s mint tea scent is muted, like it has been since his pack died, but still comforting in its familiarity as it surrounds me. “You can go back, and you will. There is nothing to be ashamed of about presenting as an Omega. Being one is a beautiful, wonderful thing.”

“It doesn’t feel wonderful. Feels sticky.”

He chuckles, my head bouncing as his slim chest moves.

“Of course, it doesn’t seem great right now.

But one day, when you meet your pack, you’ll realize that it is the best thing that could ever have happened to you.

There is nothing like the love a pack can give you, little Onion.

There are people out there made for you.

It’s science and magic and wonderful. You have to hold strong until you find them. The wait will be worth it.”

His voice cracks, and my heart does, too. Calvin’s pack all died suddenly a few months ago in a helicopter accident on their way back from filming a movie. He’s been holding on surprisingly well, all things considered. Sure, he’s become a bit of a homebody, but grief can do that to a person.

“I’m not going back to school. I can never show my face there again. I’m going to do virtual school from now on.”

“You’d hate virtual school.” He pulls the blanket down and shifts so that we’re both sitting up. “And you’re not one to run and hide, Ariana Cooley. You’re too tough to let something like a little slick get you down.”

“It wasn’t a little slick!” I gesture aggressively toward my laundry basket. “Check for yourself if you don’t believe me. It looked like I pissed myself!”

He changes tactics. “At least you have a nice scent. Imagine if you smelled like… I don’t know, licorice or something?”

“I hate licorice.”

“Me too! See, luck is on your side, making you smell like oranges and cream.” He makes a dramatic sniffing noise. “Mmm, like summertime popsicles.”

“Ew! Don’t sniff me, you weirdo!” I shove him the way I used to when we were kids. “Of course, you’re going to say I smell good. You’re my brother. You have to.”

“Okay, so? I’m your brother. If anyone was going to tell you that you smelled like gym socks, it would be me. I would never let you live it down, honestly.” He slides out from under me and rips the blanket off me with all the flair of a magician’s assistant. “Now, come on, let’s go get some food.”

I sit up and swing my legs off the bed, allowing me to get my first good look at my brother since he got here.

He came directly from the airport, and his disheveled appearance shows it, but the dark bags under his eyes seem too permanent to be from a single red-eye flight.

His skin is sallow, and his usually impeccably manicured nails look brittle.

My brother looks sick. Like, really sick.

“Are you okay?” I ask him, pushing to my feet. “I’ve made this all about me. How are you holding up? You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

He waves me away. “I’m fine, Onion. I have good days and bad days, like anyone.”

This doesn’t seem like a bad day. Calvin wouldn’t keep something this big from me, would he?

“You’re not getting sick, are you?”

Omegas who meet their scent matches, then lose exposure to them, or have an adverse reaction to long-term heat suppressant use, are at risk of developing Foresaken Omega Syndrome, or FOS.

We have a whole unit devoted to it in designation biology class.

It’s a devastating illness, but a lot of Omegas can heal from it.

Most Omegas are fortunate to often have several scent matches available to aid pheromone treatment.

Scent matching is not a one-and-done type of deal, despite what some fairy tales may suggest. Everyone has multiple scent matches somewhere out there.

It’s all about whether you can find them.

There are billions of people in the world.

Of course, there isn’t only one person out there for everyone.

That would be a statistical improbability.

Scientists have been trying for decades to determine what causes scent matching and whether there is a way to predict or root out its cause, but they’ve come up short.

Honestly, it’s not a well-researched field from what I’ve been taught in school.

There isn’t much money to be made in the study of scent matches, so the government isn’t funding it.

It’s estimated that most Alphas have three or four matches out there, and Omegas can have up to ten. Which sounds like a lot, but there are billions of people in the world. Running into one is so rare that most don’t wait to pack up.

But Calvin was lucky. He was scent matched to his whole pack—all five of them. It’s one of the reasons, aside from their moderate fame, that the media loved them.

Of course, the downside of finding scent matches is that if you lose them, FOS becomes a major risk.

“I’m not getting sick,” he insists, wrapping his elbow with mine. “I have a little cold. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” I let him lead me to the kitchen, where Dad is sitting down to breakfast. “You’d tell me, right?”

“You know I don’t keep secrets from you.” He ruffles my hair like I’m still a child. “Now, go eat. You have school.”

“I am not going to school!” I stop dead in my tracks and try to flee back to my room. “I can’t face everyone! Not yet!”

He puts his hands on my shoulders and shoves me into my seat.

“If you don’t go, you’ll be showing them all that you’re ashamed of your designation, and you’re not going to do that.

Female Omegas are so rare. You’ll be so popular now.

I know this feels like the end of the world, but it’s not.

All of the Alphas are going to want to talk to you, all of the unpresented girls are going to want to be you. ”

I scowl into my cereal. “No, they’re not. No one wants to be an Omega.”

Dad pushes a glass of orange juice to me. “Then they’re stupid. Being an Omega is a blessing, not a curse.”

“Both of you? Ugh!” I roll my eyes, fully embracing the petulant teenager stereotype. “Seriously. It’s not that great. People think that you’re incapable of complex thought when they find out you’re an Omega.”

My Omega father stares at me with a straight face. “Not capable of complex thought? I’m a mathematician, Ariana.”

“Yeah, but you’re different.”

“It sounds like you have the prejudices against Omegas that you’re trying to claim everyone else has.” Calvin lowers himself beside me with a mug of creamy coffee. “Promise me you’ll give it a real chance, little Onion. Don’t let your fear keep you from living.”

“I’m not,” I insist, taking a bite of my cereal and talking with my mouth full. “I’m not afraid of being an Omega, I just don’t want to be one.”

Dad reaches out and pats my shoulder. “You’ll think otherwise when you find your pack. And when you build your first nest.”

My ears perk up a little bit at that. Building a nest does sound fun. I like to be cozy, and what’s cozier than a pile of blankets and pillows that I can burrow in?

Calvin drains his cup of coffee and places the empty mug on the table. “How about this? Go to school, and when I pick you up, we can go nest shopping.”

“You promise?” Excitement about my designation blooms for the first time. Maybe it won’t be all bad. There’s got to be some good parts of being an Omega. My best friend Marlie presented two months ago and says she loves it.

“I promise.” He leans and kisses my head before nuzzling against my cheek. “You’ll see. Being an Omega is a blessing.”

“You seriously believe that? Even though…”

“Even though I lost them?” Calvin takes my hands in his, pulling me to my feet.

“Yes, even though I lost my Alphas, being their Omega for any amount of time was better than never knowing them. You’ll understand one day, when you find the people for you.

And I’ll be right by your side, welcoming them to the family.

After I make sure they’re good enough for you, that is. ”

“You promise?” I repeat.

“I promise.”