Chapter 9
WREN
“What’s the vibe for dressing for a rugby match?” Nikita tosses an armful of clothes onto her bed, surveying her options as she stands there in a robe with a towel wrapped around her head. “Do I bring my pom-poms? Or leave them at home?”
This Omega’s nest is no doubt gonna be either just a pile of designer clothes or a custom-built walk-in wardrobe.
“My only advice is to dress warmly.” I laugh. “If you can make thermals and scarves look sexy, then go for it.”
“I’ve got hand warmers for all of us.” Gabbie wanders in, already partway through her hair and makeup, plopping down on the side of the bed.
Nikita picks up a pair of thigh-high boots and a miniskirt. “I’ve got a hip flask full of bourbon to contribute to the keeping warm part of this evening.”
I giggle and toss a pair of fleece tights at her. “If you’re planning on wearing those and breaking hearts, at least make sure you’re well insulated.”
“At least these team colors aren’t ghastly,” she calls back over her shoulder while walking into the bathroom.
That’s for sure. Not that I’m too vain to wear whatever colors would support my brother’s team, but I’m sure as hell glad there’s no fluorescent yellow or orange required. Forest green combined with silver lightning is very aesthetically pleasing.
“I like the sound of them… Wolves.” Nikita comes back out, shimmying her skirt up over her hips. “Maybe I’ll find someone who likes a little wholesome chase through the forest?”
Gabbie and I both scoff, taking one glance at the boots she’s intending to wear. “You and your fantasy need to invest in some sturdy footwear first.” With one hand, I gesture to her closet overflowing with heels. “How you afford all these, I’ll never know.”
“True.” She flops onto the bed between us, avoiding my question. “But an Omega can wish.” Kicking her legs in the air, she wiggles her toes.
We carry on getting ready, floating between our three bedrooms. Playing music and pausing for a few wardrobe decisions along the way.
While we’re dressing for a rugby match and bracing against the freezing night air, we’ve also got the after-match get-together to keep in mind.
And while I very much shouldn’t be thinking about the fact that I’ll most likely run into Connor there…
that has definitely influenced my decision on what I’m wearing.
Gabbie wanders in with a selection of lipsticks she wiggles at me, asking for help in making a decision. “What jersey do you wear? Your brother’s number?”
Shaking my head, with mascara in hand, a laugh bursts out of me. “Oh, I never wear a jersey to a game. No way.”
I tap the fuchsia-pink tube. That one looks perfect with Gabbie’s emerald-green eyes.
“Why not?” she asks, while brushing shoulders with me to share the mirror.
“Well, for a start, when I was younger, Finch almost died of embarrassment at the thought of his baby sisters tagging along to watch his games. He used to pretend he didn’t know us, the shithead.
One match, he even left us standing in the parking lot until the whole team had gone home, because he didn’t want anyone knowing he was giving us a ride home after the match.
I think he was trying to impress someone and thought it would be too cringe to have his kid sisters cramping his style. ”
The girls snort with laughter.
“So, I held a grudge, and to be a pain in the ass, I refused to ever wear a jersey to one of his matches. But then, once we got older, it turned into a silly little superstition between us. It became a running joke that as long as I kept ‘forgetting’ to wear a jersey, he’d win.”
“Well?”
“He hasn’t lost a match if he’s been in the starting lineup ever since.
No matter which team he plays for.” I shrug.
“It’s just dumb, but I kinda like having something we can still joke about.
He’s been gone from home for so long, playing at the pro level.
It feels like a way to still have each other’s backs. ”
“So that means not flirting with his teammate, correct?” Nikita grins at me.
My groan fills the room as I finish applying my mascara. “Don’t start. I’m guessing that bubble will be well and truly popped tonight once he connects the dots.”
“Would your brother actually care?” Gabbie looks at me with curious eyes.
I sigh. “Look, he’s this mix of being a really good guy, caring about Lark and me, especially as Omegas.
He’s always been loud about Omega rights, even as a pro player, when a lot don’t bother to speak up because they don’t want to rock the boat with their contracts.
But he’s got this fucking German shepherd streak in him where he’ll be savage if he wants to be.
I guess that’s what got him to where he is as vice-captain.
It also means he loves to piss all over his territory, and in his eyes, his team is ‘his territory.’”
Even as I say it, I hear myself. The way I know, undoubtedly, that Finch would go nuclear if he caught wind of me having anything to do with one of his teammates.
“Besides…” I fuss with the straightener, getting my bangs to behave themselves.
“All of this is irrelevant when there are literal rules in our scholarship about getting involved with any of the sports teams. Willow Falls University and winning come first and foremost above the wanton, seductive charms of Omegas.”
We all simultaneously make barfing noises.
Gabbie huffs out an exasperated breath. “As if it’s that simple.”
“What my pussy wants, she wants. How are any of us supposed to go against DNA and scent matches and managing heats?” Nikita tosses her phone and wallet into a handbag.
“Show me one of these old men sitting in a stuffy board of directors meeting who could handle the cramps and the pain of a heat coming on suddenly.”
“They’d fold like a deck of cards. Probably be turning up at the ER all over one teeny tiny fever.”
“And you can’t tell me none of these assholes have ever met an Omega before…
or that not one single member has an Omega sister or daughter?
Be so for real right now.” Nikita stops to take in the sight of both Gabbie and me, then whistles while fluttering her hands up and down our figures in approval.
We both do a twirl.
“Okay, enough feminine rage. You both look hot as fuck. Everyone wearing your scent suppressants? Let’s go learn how to say, ‘can I please touch your thigh muscles?’ in ten different languages.”