Chapter 40
FORTY
Playing: “Green Eyes” by Coldplay
After Kit and Thatcher leave for their date, I realize that I’ve never been in this house by myself. For half a second, I thrive in it, but then that excitement begins to dwindle. It’s too quiet, the walls are too still, and my blanket feels scratchy against my skin.
I can barely focus on the new romance anime that I just started while it creeps over me, this weird loneliness that I’ve never felt before.
Even Jemma is nowhere to be found. I felt alone in Cindy’s apartment, but there was always someone to annoy me.
There was no real solace to be found, and before that, my roommate in the dorms was a chronic video game player.
I never got a moment alone there either.
I think the only time I had any time to myself was while living with Rory, which I miss sometimes because it was the perfect combination of solitude and friendship.
With that thought in mind, my chest aches. We still see each other often, and I try to catch up with her on campus as much as I can, but it’s different. Both Stacia and Rory have their new packs to navigate, and I’ve been keeping secrets.
One of these days, I’ll tell them everything. I’ll tell Stacia about my scent matches, and I’ll tell them both about my condition, but that day isn’t today. Still, I should check up on them.
I dial the number and slide my phone to my ear. The ringing persists, but when I finally hear my friend’s voice, my smile can’t be contained.
“Hey!” Rory answers.
“I’m bored. Entertain me.”
She laughs. “Luckily, I actually have a few minutes before I go to my night class.”
“Night class?” I scrunch my face with disgust. “The idea of being on campus after dark makes me feel nauseous.”
“It’s a little bit daunting, yes, but it’s a new improv class, and the teacher is really into astrology, so she likes for us to ‘perform under the stars.’”
“But it’s freezing outside.”
“Yes, which is why most of our skits turn into us being lost in a snowstorm,” she jokes. “This one guy actually stopped mid performance to have a breakdown about how cold it was, and the professor just clapped and told him how convincing his emotions were.”
A cackle escapes me. “No fucking way. Did he freak out?”
“No, he just dropped the class. We haven’t seen him since.”
She tells me more about her classes and how there’s a community center downtown that’s putting on a summer production of Cats that Jett wants to audition for.
I tell her about how my teaching assignment is going, and we laugh about one of the children in my class who is determined to convince everyone else that blue is actually green.
At first, we thought he was just being a convincing kid, but the truth is his parents refuse to admit he’s colorblind, so he sincerely believes it’s the truth and that all of the staff are lying to him.
“So, how are things?” she asks, but I know what she’s really inquiring about.
“They’re good.” I try to act coy, but nothing gets past Rory.
She scoffs. “Good. Sure. We all saw how Sam and Thatcher acted after Uriah’s gig. Spill the tea!”
“There’s nothing to tell.” I bite my lip, contemplating the lie before blurting out, “Fine! Kit and I slept together.”
The line goes quiet for a moment before she yells out loud. The sound goes on forever, as she hoots and hollers her happiness to her heart’s content.
“Rory! Shut up! Your mates are going to wonder what’s going on.”
“I’m already on my way to class, so the only people that are curious are the students in the dorms I’m passing right now.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Because I’m not ready to deal with it yet.”
“Opal, come on,” she says. “They may not be around right now, but everyone is confused about what happened last week. None of the guys have ever seen Sam look like that, so you know they’re wondering what the truth is.”
I cover my face with my palm. “I shouldn’t have gone after Uriah’s bandmate.”
“You’re telling me! They’re your scent matches, whether they know it or not. Did you really expect them to just let you be with someone else?”
No. I didn’t expect that, especially not from Kit. He has been very adamant about his feelings towards me, and I feel horrible for even trying it. With how things are now, I can’t imagine even thinking about it, let alone doing it.
“I want them, Rory,” I admit, my omega griping in my chest.
“Then you need to tell them,” she says. “And newsflash, Opal, they want you too.”
The front door opens, and I turn to see Sam, his coats layered and his hair a little bit disheveled from the wind. When he goes to put his coat on the rack, the whole thing falls over and makes a loud reverberating sound against the wood flooring, making me flinch.
Rory gasps. “What was that?”
“Sam just got home and had a tussle with the coat rack.”
“Oh.” She makes a little insinuating noise in response, which causes me to laugh.
“Shut up,” I whisper. “I’ll call you back, okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Or don’t. Whenever you’re done having quality time with your scent match, you get back to me.”
My skin quickly turns red. “Bye, Rory,” I say playfully.
“Aw, no silly nickname? I miss when you would call me blueberry pancake.”
I snort. “Goodbye, Miss Wednesday.”
“I don’t know what the fucking means.”
“Watch One Piece.” I hang up before she can respond and turn to see Sam finally getting the rack back into place. When he sees me, his face is red, but I’m not sure if it’s lingering from the cold or if he’s embarrassed about his fight with an inanimate object.
“Can we talk?” he asks, his voice velvety smooth despite his embarrassment.
Amusement fades as his question processes and my heart skips a beat.
“Oh, um, sure,” I say, unable to decline his offer.
We really do need to talk things out. We’ve left what happened at the party go unspoken for too long now—so it’s just sitting between us, bubbling and rotting, both of us determined to ignore its presence.
Anything is better than this weight we’ve placed on ourselves, so an honest conversation is long overdue.
“Would you like to come to my room?” he asks.
My eyes widen and my heart pumps a little bit faster.
I’ve never been in his room, but it’s something I’ve daydreamed about in the recesses of my mind.
My omega and I have wondered what it looks like, how the combination of his and Kit’s scents smells in their bed.
And now, if his serious tone is anything to go by, it sounds like he wants to have an important conversation in there?
I’ll be lucky if I can even concentrate enough to hear every other word.
If he detects the uneasiness in my response, he doesn’t allude to it, just leads me up the stairs and into his room for the very first time.
As we enter, an immense calm suddenly falls over my body, like his doorway is a portal to some kind of studious sanctuary.
There are built-in bookshelves lining the two walls that connect in the corner.
His window is covered in a dark green curtain, the same color as his comforter, which looks like the softest thing I’ve ever seen.
My hands flex as I fight the urge to burrow inside it.
Or potentially steal it for some impromptu nesting.
“It’s not much.” My head whips toward him as he stands with his hands in his pockets. The insecurity in his eyes is plain to see. “Do you want to sit?”
He motions towards his bed. A tiny part of me eyes the desk chair in the corner, but the omega inside of me overrides that decision quickly.
Luckily, my scent isn’t at risk of getting on anything, and even if it was, I don’t think Kit would mind.
When I sit on the edge of the bed, I notice the snapshots lined up on the wall, hung by little clips over some string lights.
There’s a ton to see there, photos of Sam and his frat brothers, a couple of him with a sweet older lady, and a ton of Kit in various states of laughter.
When I look closer, I see one of me, my eyes shut and my head thrown back in laughter.
I remember exactly when Kit took this of me on his Polaroid camera.
“Oh my gosh,” I say, pointing at it.
Sam smiles. “Kit puts up photos sometimes, but I have to say, I really like that one.”
My cheeks feel hot at how pointed his statement feels, so I drop my hand and turn to give him my full attention.
“I quit my internship today,” he says.
My mouth gapes open. That was the last thing I expected him to say. “What?”
“I realized it wasn’t what I wanted. Or needed for that matter.” He shrugs, then sits beside me. “Can I tell you what I need?”
When he looks at me, I can tell that something is different. He doesn’t seem as troubled, and there’s a new weightlessness surrounding him that relieves every molecule in my body. Still, I hold my breath and nod, waiting for his next words.
“I need to be home with my pack,” he starts. “I need to be around more, have time for my friends and my mates. I need to stop taking on everything all the time because I think it’ll define who I am.”
I think back to my conversation with Kit, how he said Sam doesn’t slow down because he thinks no one will want him if he does. How his actions are all to cover up something that made him feel unworthy. Just as I think that, Sam declares, “And I need to tell you about my past.”
My lungs immediately halt in their function, and a few moments go by before my brain remembers how to take in a deep breath. “Okay.”
We sit there for a few moments, the silence lingering on as he fiddles with his hands. I’m not sure why I do it, if it’s instinct, or if my omega doesn’t like to see her scent match struggle, but I reach over and take his hand in mine. He clutches onto it, desperate for the connection.
“I came out to my parents when I was thirteen,” he tells me. “They didn’t react well and they didn’t understand.”
“What did they do?”