Chapter 9
Haze
“Get your keys. We’re following a rogue, little, rich-girl omega dressed like a pastel rave goddess who claims she’s going to work at seven in the evening,” my brother damn near shouts the moment he strides into our new room, hands on his hips and a troubled expression on his normally stoic face.
Blinking at him, I absorb that information before blurting, “I’m sorry, what?”
“I went to apologize to the spicy, little brat, and she brushed me off like she had better things to do than listen to an apology I, apparently, didn’t mean,” he quickly explains, sounding riled up by the notion that Silver pied him off. Me? Well, I’m all too amused by it, because there are very few people in the world who talk to Rage like I do.
When his explanation does very little to, well, explain, and I remain reclined on the ridiculously comfortable bed in just a shirt and baseball shorts, he glares and announces, “She’s heading to work in sexy tights with short as fuck denim cut offs and a shirt that looks like it would be found on an erotic dancer. Her scent was almost non-existent, only a faint shadow of what it usually is, and I’m pretty sure she was talking on the phone to another dude, too. Said something about taking something off and leaving it there.”
Well, now, that has my attention.
Sitting up and discarding the car magazine I’d been skimming through before I was rudely interrupted, I frown at my twin and ask, “What are you talking about?”
“Exactly what I said. She’s dressed like a walking sex symbol and on her way to meet a guy. She said she was going to work, but who dresses in pink fishnets and cut-off shorts to go to work?” my brother rushes, a lot more worked up about this than I would have credited him for being. Like we share a brain, he rolls his eyes and groans. “I don’t even know why I’m so pressed about it. It’s not like I like the girl.”
“I think you’re full of shit,” I counter, voicing my thoughts before filtering them. Not that I would to my brother, but he’s a prickly bastard lately, and the rich omega we’ve found ourselves rooming with is a sore subject. I thought it was because she had money coming out of her perfectly pert ass while we’ve been suffering for months on what little money Pace is bringing in at the school’s radio station, but this particular development has me second guessing my brother’s moods and their causes.
Rage glares, as expected, and says, “When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
I shrug, unbothered and beyond used to my brother’s bad moods. “I’m just saying. You wouldn’t be in here demanding we stalk the omega if you didn’t like her.”
“I don’t like her,” he mutters in denial, and I raise my eyebrow.
“How many ways do you want me to prove you wrong? Or shall we both save time and agree that we both like the girl?” I ask patiently, receiving a signature bored look from my brother that says more than words would. He’s not impressed with my observation, but he’s not denying it, proving me right. “So, why do you keep being a dick to her?”
All the fight leaves him suddenly, and he drops into an armchair that came with the room, scrubbing his hands over his face while he grumbles, “I don’t even know, man. It’s like my brain thinks one thing and my mouth says another. I get all pissy over the way she seems to throw money around, say something stupid that hurts her feelings, then feel like shit for it afterward. This is why I said it was better if I was indifferent and mute around her. I wouldn’t spew stupid shit that way, and I don’t have to risk falling for a pretty, rich girl who’ll drop me the moment she finds something better.”
“You really think Silver is like that?” I wonder, because I sure don’t get those vibes from her. In fact, Silver seems to be the purest, bright beam of sunshine I’ve met since Aero stumbled into our lives as a foster kid, accompanied by his shadow, and misery guts, beta that we all love.
“They’re all like it, bro,” he answers, even though I can hear the doubt in his own words. Because sure, every girl with money that we’ve met in life so far have been the same. Selfish, entitled, and quick to rub their money in our faces. But that was when we were working part time at the mechanics in our old hometown that saw plenty of wealthy people passing through. Apparently, it seems to have left a jaded mark on my brother, much deeper than I thought. Or maybe it was the way Veronica treated Munro that has him repelled by sexy, little omegas with a healthy cash flow.
Clicking my tongue against my teeth, I carefully mutter, “You might want to rewire what you think you know, dude. I was talking to Aero earlier, after you disappeared to sulk and think up an apology, and it turns out she’s not the pampered princess we all assumed she was when we Googled her. You know those photos we saw of her with her parents? How happy and adorable their little pack looked?”
“Yeah? There a point to this?” he volleys, and I smirk.
“It’s all a lie, bro. Just a pretty picture. As it was, Silver’s parents are genuine cunts who controlled every aspect of her life before she ran away and started living with her grandparents. Aero said something about her not being allowed to choose what she wants to wear, what to do, or even what to eat. Her family is rich, yeah, but that didn’t mean she was. At least, not until she moved out of her family home,” I explain, condensing all Aero told me earlier when he tried to explain to me that we’ve been wrong about the pastel-haired beauty.
It takes a moment for my words to sink in, and I watch the moment they finally register in his mind, his head falling back on a defeated groan that would make me laugh if I didn’t feel sorry for him.
“Well, that makes me feel like a bastard,” he damn near whines.
“You are a bastard. We both are,” I quip, grinning at him when he glares.
“As in like shit, not as in products of a man’s infidelity,” he clarifies as though I wasn’t already aware of what he meant. Ignoring my mocking grin, he asks with a note of pleading, “So, how do I fix what I’ve clearly fucked up on the first weekend of living with the sweetest omega we’ve ever met? She won’t let me apologize, ran away as though she couldn’t get away from me fast enough, and told me to have a blessed day. What the fuck do I do with that?”
“She told you to have a blessed day?” I snicker, rubbing my hand over my mouth, because if there’s one thing I wasn’t expecting from Silver Gage it’s how funny she is. I’ve been more amused in the past two days than I have in years, and it’s all down to the omega’s smart mouth and dry humor. I mean, who lounges outside with cocktails, watching her new roommates carrying their meagre belongings into a home that looked like it was built directly from a magazine.
Rage snaps his fingers in front of my face and scowls at me. “Focus. I need help.”
Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “If you’d bottled your judgmental shit before spewing it to Silver, then you would be just fine.”
“That’s not helping. Does that look like it’s helping?” he snaps, genuinely looking stressed about the idea that he’s been a dick to the girl who has offered us a place to stay, for free, and has only asked for a single fake date in return.
I wince, feeling a little bad for mocking him, and I decide that helping would probably benefit us both. Since I’m not currently on Silver’s shit list, or at least I don’t think I am, I don’t have anything to make up for. Meaning I can help put Rage in her good graces where we can hopefully build on.
“I think Aero is on to something,” I declare, thankful the omega isn’t in the room with us, because I don’t need his bragging and smug looks following me around for the rest of the night. “We need to actually make an effort here. Befriend her. Not hiding from her, ignoring her olive branches, and definitely not sassing her for having money when we’re barely scraping by.”
Rage’s jaw clenches, and I see the flicker of regret flashing through his matching blue eyes to mine, his head nodding in agreement slowly. “So, how do we do that?”
I roll my eyes, retrieving my cell and finding the number of the perfect person who can help. Pressing dial, I wait for a call, smiling at my brother when he sends me a questioning look.
Lowie answers quickly, bypassing the usual greeting by muttering, “Let me guess, you fucked it all up already and need a place to stay?”
“Hello to you, too, brother. Nice to speak with you. We’ve been well, thank you for asking,” I return with a mocking politeness that I’m sure our friend is rolling his eyes at.
When we came to North Five University, we never anticipated making friends. At the end of the day, we’re here on scholarships with part-time jobs and a life we want to build for ourselves. Distractions didn’t fit into that. But when Juniper Baines wriggled herself into our family dynamic and brought her bonded pack with her, it was inevitable that we’d all grow close over the weeks. It helped that we already knew the Ledger twins, having crossed paths in class a few times, but the moment Munro started hanging out with Juno more regularly, the more we’d ended up spending time with her whole pack until we all sort of formed this one big, dysfunctional family.
“I don’t give a shit about that. What I’m worried about is if I have to tell my woman that her best friend’s pack were assholes to her other best friend who gave them a place to stay and now they’re homeless again. I told her it was a bad idea, because I know what you guys are like with people with money,” Lowie harps on, and I roll my eyes, already regretting this phone call. I should have made Rage do it. He’s the one that fucked up, not me. I actually think Silver might sort of like me.
Cutting him off before he really gets going, I say, “We haven’t been kicked out yet, calm your tits. Rage and I were just looking for advice.”
“Huh. Alright. Hit me with it, then,” he agrees easily, tone shifting from ‘irritated’ to ‘chill’ in a split second.
“You’re an insufferable dick,” I start, grinning when he grunts, partially in agreement and partially in protest. “How the hell did you get Juno to like you?”
There’s a long pause, and I pull the cell away from my ear and place it on speakerphone, right in time to hear Lowie cautiously question, “Do I want to know why you’re wondering how I charmed Juno?”
“You’re a smart man, bro. I’m sure you can do the math,” I snicker, grinning at my brother who closes his eyes like he’s stressed and tired of my shit.
“Oh, no, I’m doing the math, but I thought you all hated Silver? Why do you think I was about to chew you out for blowing it on day two?” the asshole of the Ledger twins informs. “So, what are you really asking me? You need tips or something on how to woo the omega you’re living with now?”
I hear the amusement in his voice, and I don’t like it. “I should have called your brother. You suck.”
Lowie chuckles deeply down the line, and Rage’s lips twitch, though he doesn't open his eyes. Instead, he remains motionless in his seat, tense as he awaits an answer. “Look, Silver and Juniper are two completely different omegas and women, and I’ve got years on you guys when it comes to courting. I’ve been courting Juniper since she was twelve and I was fourteen, and I didn’t even realize it. There wasn’t a time where Juno didn’t know she was mine, even when she was gone, and I told her as much as soon as she came back to us. Different situations and shit, bro. You want Silver to like you? Just be yourselves and get to know her. She’s actually pretty dope when you get past the bubbly exterior.”
I frown. I like the bubbly exterior. It matches her bubblegum scent and vibrant personality.
“Being myself is the problem,” Rage grouches, and Lowie laughs.
“I told you, man. We’re not all bastards with more money than sense,” Lowie reminds my brother with an amused lilt to his voice. “Get over the whole lower, middle, upper class bullshit. Let your guards down a bit and get to know Silver. Trust me, she’ll surprise you. If Juno loves her, then that should tell you what kind of person she is. Juno doesn't love easy, you have to work for it, but Silver wriggled her way in real good and now they’re thick as thieves. Forget everything you know, and make an effort with the girl. She gave you jerk-offs a place to stay so you wouldn’t have to suffer dealing with Evron’s balls. Think about that.”
Sighing, I accept the advice and give Rage a loaded look the moment his eyes open. Cracking his fingers, he sits up in his seat and finally asks, “Don’t suppose you know where Silver works, do you?”
Lowie pauses, muttering down the line with a muffled voice, “Hold on, Angel. Just helping two useless assholes. Stay there.”
When he comes back, voice stronger, he says, “Yeah, I know where she works. You guys heard of Raverz? It’s a club about twenty minutes away from her house. If she’s there tonight when she isn’t booked in, then she’s destressing. Don’t stress her out more when she’s doing her thing.”
“How do you know so much about her?” I wonder, genuinely curious, because he sure does know a fair bit about the omega he isn’t bound to. And sure, maybe there’s an element of jealousy that pushes me to ask, but that’s neither here nor there.
Lowie snorts before answering, “Because my girl is a fucking yapper sometimes, and I’ve been subjected to many a gossiping session. That’s all I’m saying, because she’s currently glaring at me like she’s going to take my balls away.”
Laughing, I scoop my cell up and mutter, “Alright, I’m gonna hang up so you can defend yourself. Thanks for the help, bro.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he answers, a grin in his voice. “Don’t fuck it up, guys. Silver is a diamond in a barrel of rocks. You’d be stupid to mess that up.”
Shaking my head when I hear Juno practically melt with her muffled ‘aww’, I end the call and look pointedly at my brother. He looks back at me, a nervousness etched into his face I’ve never seen before, and I flash him a grin as I ask, “So, you wearing that to a club?”
I eye his matching shorts and shirt to mine, and he looks at my outfit, before shaking his head. “Ten minutes and we’re out of here.”
“Deal,” I answer, then I’m scrambling off the bed and throwing on some decent enough clothes that will allow us entry to a club I’ve only heard of but never frequented.
***
Seated in the corner, tucked away near the speaker that blares out a heavy bass song that rattles my eardrums, I take a sip of my beer, glad for the Uber we took to the club instead of allowing Rage to drive.
“Do you see her?” my brother asks for the fourth time, rolling his own bottle between his hands as his eyes can our surroundings.
Raverz, for all its hype, is actually pretty chill. Either that, or they’re having a bit of an off night. There aren’t many people here, some drinking casually at the bar or in booths like my brother and me, but none are dancing and enjoying themselves like I thought they would be at a club like this. Maybe it’s because it’s a Sunday night as most of us have classes tomorrow, or maybe it’s because the soundtrack currently playing is total shit. Whatever the reason, it’s dead in here, even though a place like this looks like it should be packed no matter the day of the week.
With black tables and leather seats, a marble-top bar with neon lights shining down on the plethora of alcohol bottles that line the wall, and beams of light that strobe all through the club, Raverz is a swanky place, classy but current and not at all tacky like I would have imagined. It’s low-key and slightly hidden from the beaten path, and it seems like the perfect place to unwind after a long week of work or school.
“Nope. No sign of her,” I mutter, gaze roaming over every face I see, checking the waitresses and bar staff. “What did you say she was wearing again?”
“Fishnets. Pink fishnets. Cut off shorts, chunky white boots, and a sparkly shirt with a denim jacket that looked like it had been sent through a woodchipper and only barely survived. She looks like a wet fucking dream,” he answers distractedly, looking for the elusive omega. It doesn’t help that she’s, apparently, decided to wear a suppressant spray that mutes her sugary bubblegum scent which always gives me a craving for something sweet.
Just as I open my mouth to ask if he can see her, the lights dim and the music fades away until it stops entirely, plunging the club into a charged silence. Through the darkness, I see several people stand from their seats, suddenly alert and rushing toward a podium where a DJ deck is stationed with their hands on their phones and their fingers furiously tapping away.
“The hell?” Rage mutters, sitting up in his seat at the same time the lights go out entirely and several pink and white beams of light start roaming all through the room. Not a second later, a steady beat starts playing through the speakers, gradually growing louder and louder until it fills the entire room, mingling with the uproar of hoots and hollers of the patrons now crowding around the platform where the DJ deck is.
Sure enough, just as the song playing starts growing in speed, everyone growing hyped with the sudden change of atmosphere, a bright spotlight falls onto the girl wearing a half-faced neon rabbit mask suited with ears and whiskers, her dark-lined eyes visible through the holes and darker lips tugged up into a smirk. Silver’s sequined shirt is highlighted by the strong beam, revealing a cheeky glimpse of cleavage that has me salivating like a pervert, along with the killer legs that are encased in sexy tights and shorts that barely cover the sweet cover of her ass.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, understanding now why Rage was adamant that we follow her. I know she doesn’t like us right now, and is, apparently, under the impression that we hate her, but I would not have hesitated in slinging her over my shoulder and locking her away so no one else got to see the omega looking like a sexy, little pastel pixie if it were me that she collided into at the house.
Instead, she stands in all her glory, a tattered denim jacket barely holding onto her arms as it hangs loosely around her biceps, leaving her shoulders bare. She’s a literal fantasy come to life, her pale-blonde hair styled in pigtails with ropes of pink strands that now overpower the blue and purple.
Just as the music grows louder, one of Silver’s hands controlling dials and knobs on the deck board, she throws her free hand into the air and shouts, “Let’s get this party started!”
The roar of the small crowd fills the room in answer, and I am utterly captivated as Silver begins to jump to the beat, arm still in the air as she plays the crowd like she was born to do just that.
It’s just as the song playing through the speaker picks up the pace, building up rapidly as it gears toward what I hope is going to be a sick drop, Silver’s rabbit head looks around before it stops suddenly when she sees my brother and me sitting in a booth that just so happens to be in direct line of sight to where she stands.
With her mic still turned on, her head drops back, the baby pink mask she wears pointing up at the sky as she groans, “Fuck.”
And then the beat drops and everyone goes wild.