Chapter 15
Ophelia
Frantic cleaning has always been a thing for me. Alma was messy as hell. Demure, classy, sure, but damn messy. I'd obsessively clean our shared room after she'd plow through all our stuff like a hurricane, and it kept the anxiety of her going out to hang out with boys at bay. I was nervous about alphas, even then.
Over the years, cleaning has been a way for me to channel my anxiety. When I'm stressed or nervous or trying to work through a problem, I clean. Plus, if I was ever out of scent-blockers and didn't feel like walking down the street and getting verbally accosted by random strangers, I'd stay in, and I had to stay busy somehow.
The banging on my door is a familiar one, and I'm surprised at my disappointment that it's not the heavy fist of Theo, Sully, or Asher. Enzo only comes in when he's with his brothers. Otherwise, he hangs out outside and just watches me. It should feel creepy, but all it does is turn me on, being the center of his focus.
I swing open the door, revealing Mel shaking a bottle of white wine in time with her shoulders, like she's doing a bad conga line.
I snort, I can't help it. Stepping back, she dances her way into my apartment, singing some song about big butts. I let her dance through my apartment, and while she cracks open the wine and pours two glasses, landing on my lumpy couch, I finish my cleaning tirade and join her.
"Okay, what's the occasion?" She sets the bottle on my coffee table, which wobbles since I repaired it with duct tape after Enzo broke the leg while confronting Red. Asher tried to replace it, but I refused.
"There needs to be one now? What, you're packed up and too good for me?" She gasps and fake-shouts, clutching her non-existent pearls. "Nah, I'm just playing. Baby daddy's got the kids, so I'm free tonight. And Sharon called and said the gig tomorrow got canceled, and I get the day off."
She says it with a smile, but I don't miss the tightness in her eyes. She doesn't want the day off tomorrow; she needs a reliable job and a fucking paycheck.
I take the full glass of wine gratefully and cheers her glass. "To days off."
"So, how's pack life?"
"You keep saying that like it's a foregone conclusion," I narrow my eyes at her.
"Isn't it?"
I huff. "Not while they're still dating."
"Wait, what?"
I let out a tiny omega-worthy growl and lean forward, dipping into my newly restocked stash of newspaper and magazine clippings of my not-mates from the small drawer under my coffee table. More aggressively than necessary, I pass her the headline featuring Theo's devastating smile. He's so god damn pornographically sexy.
It's no wonder he's been so hot and cold with me. I'm probably the last thing he ever expected. Certainly, the last type of omega he'd ever be pictured with. He probably resents our scent-match.
"I don't get it," Mel asks, reading through the clip.
"Asher and Theo told me a couple of days ago they had an obligation through the OFA to host some luncheon to—" I lift my fingers into air quotes, "raise money for the underprivileged neighborhoods."
Mel snorts, nearly spilling her wine.
"It's not funny! Man, they were like… just starting to grow on me." After Theo left me at work a few nights ago, his words danced around my brain, further chipping away at my resolve.
Mel rolls her eyes, "And? Why don't you go, as they're omega? Did they tell you they had a date or something?"
"No… but that's not the point!"
"Did you expect them to stop associating with the OFA after you told them what happened to your family?"
"No…" Kind of.
"It's okay if you did, you know. But maybe it's a little more complicated than just not showing up anymore."
"Yeah… yeah, yes, of course, I know that. It still sucks."
"So, they're going to this luncheon that's hosted by the OFA? What's the big deal?"
"Well, Theo… ugh, he's such an ass, you know?" She stares at me blankly, so I elaborate. "He was like—" I put on my best fuck-boi cavalier lazy Theo voice, "Since you refuse to let us publicly claim you, we'll have to go stag."
Mel finally gets it and gasps. "And? They're just out there, dating, until you give up the pussy?"
This time, I'm the one who laughs and spills my wine. "No… I mean, I fucking hope not. They didn't say they were taking a date. Only that they had to go, regardless."
She smiles knowingly, "Mmmhmm… I see what's going on here."
"What?"
"They're trying to make you jealous."
"Well, clearly, it's not working."
"Clearly," she deadpans. "So, what are you wearing?"
"To what?"
"To the luncheon, dumbass."
"I can't go to that. Even if I didn't do ultimatums, which obviously that's what they're trying to do here, I'd never go to an OFA event."
"Babe—and I say this with all the love in my heart—quit being an idiot."
"What?" I sit up. "Do I need to remind you—"
"Of course not. You know, you're not the only one who gets fucked over by the OFA. I mean, no, their agenda doesn't impact my health. But they control all our lives in a way. Look, you know I love my freedom as a beta. But the OFA, whose greedy little fingers are in every little pie, always push whatever is on their agenda like it's the most important thing on the table. Like our own struggles, everyone, whatever the designation, down here in the pits doesn't take precedence over their creed, to breed and bond all the frilly, special little omegas."
I let out a heavy breath, downing the contents of my glass. "I'm sorry."
"I didn't say that for you to be sorry."
"I know. But sometimes I forget that it's not all about me."
Mel winks, "Okay, so my point is… maybe you have a chance here, you know? Go to the event. Rub some elbows. Maybe make a friend or two, or hell, publicly claim your hella-connected pack and make a change from the inside, you know?"
"Huh." I guess I'd never thought of it that way. "I don't want to claim them just to infiltrate the OFA."
I think of Asher and his boyish good looks. His charming, sweet smile. Enzo, his intensity, his single-minded focus, and sharp features. Sully and his broad, powerful shoulders and stern expression perfectly suited to that square-shaped jaw and classically handsome face built for billboards. His strength and intelligence and gorgeous fucking body. Even Theo, as much of an ass as he is… holy hell, he's so panty-melting hot, no one could look at that pretty face, bright blue eyes, and messy, honey blond hair and not feel his stupid smile in every cell of your body.
"I don't even know how to…" I wave my hand about. I don't know how to do anything when it comes to courting. I'm useless. I've never dated, not really. I've had sexual partners, all betas, but no one for over a year since the idea of being with anyone after I met Asher was nauseating. So, here I am. Just a girl from the wrong side of the tracks with no clue how to go after what she wants. Because I do want them. Not because of their connections but despite them.
Mel picks up on my train of thought, gracelessly hopping off my couch. I don't blame her; my couch isn't easy to climb out of. "You need a dress!" She proclaims.
"Umm…" I bite my lip, glancing toward my bedroom, knowing full well that I do not own any dresses appropriate for an OFA luncheon, but even if I did… is that really where I want to claim them as mine?
"Yes!" Mel shouts and claps her hands, already heading to my room. I didn't realize I said the last part aloud.
Mel takes about five minutes to go through my entire closet, eyeing me with disgust the whole time, as though I'm not just a failure as an omega but as a woman for my lack of decent attire. We decided to call in reinforcements, and about an hour later, Mel and I let Roxy into my apartment. I trade her some birth control for a decent dress.
Though we're different sizes, we settle on an emerald green wrap dress because of its flexibility to fit my shape. Given the softness of the material, it probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.
Roxy, way too excited I'm going to the luncheon, encourages me to keep the dress as long as I need to, though I don't see myself going to many events like these.
I feel like a real live girl when she gives me a lesson in walking in low heels—we're both cautiously optimistic I can pull off the lower heel without falling—and how to fix my hair appropriately for a luncheon and not a strip club or my living room couch.
The following day, my nerves threatened to eat me alive. I told Enzo, the only one who follows me even when I'm at work and is the only one who might have skipped the luncheon to watch over me, that I was busy with the girls and would be safely tucked inside Queenie's, so he'd leave his post.
As soon as I decided to join them in public, I was excited.
I can't believe I'm doing this.
For the first time in my life, I realized I was excited to be an omega and that I might really, truly, have a pack. The thought makes my hands shake, and my heart flutter. I want them—all four of them.