Hunter
There’s something almost soothing about the bitter chemical taste of chlorine as I push myself through the water.
If I had to think about it, it’s probably something about controlling my movements.
Measuring my breathing. Being alone with my thoughts and the burn of my muscles.
I keep going until my arms and my legs ache.
Swimming is another one of those outlets I’d developed as a teenager to help curb my dominant appetite.
To fight against the restlessness that settles beneath my skin.
I know it’s pointless.
It’s been weeks of pointlessness. It doesn’t matter what I do. I run, I cycle, I swim. The outcome is always the same. I’m still tired, frustrated and horny.
And I know the obvious answer is to go out and fuck a willing omega and knot until there’s no blood left flowing to my brain. Both Soren and Callie have offered me relief more than once, and yet it just leaves me feeling hollow.
After the game, the one where Shiloh and Zalel asked us to be bondparents for their baby and Sadie and Evans put on a show, I went home with Soren.
I hadn’t been planning on it originally, but when Evans started acting strange, refusing to look at me and then being wrapped up with Sadie in front of everyone, it was like the final thread being cut.
He wanted to go back to what we were.
He meant it.
Clearly, I was still being slow on the uptake and leaving the door open a crack when it needed to be slammed firmly shut. So, after flirting with Soren, who’d been not so subtly releasing his pheromones all evening, I dropped Blake and Evans back at the house and left.
I wish I could say it had been a hot night of endless fucking.
In reality, even though my body was there, my mind was elsewhere.
I’ve never been one to leave a partner unsatisfied, I’m a considerate lover after all, but it did mean that I dragged out Soren’s big box of toys.
Plenty of orgasms were had, it’s just none of them were mine.
It was like my sex drive had gone into hibernation which made no sense because when I was alone in my studio, I was practically coming in my pants like a teenager.
I was almost knotting my own fist on the regular.
Perhaps I should rephrase—my sex drive when it came to other people had gone into hibernation.
If it wasn’t him, or the thought of him at least, it wasn’t happening.
Which is ironic given how I pride myself on chasing pleasure for the sake of pleasure.
My hedonist days had clearly been put on pause.
Late night internet searches on dubious websites tell me it’s an obsession my alpha has latched onto, and that it should settle with plenty of time and distance, neither of which I’m giving myself of course. I was a glutton for punishment.
Since Zale was at Shiloh’s more often than not, I think Evans may be a little lonely. So most nights when we were both home, he wanted to watch movies or play video games together.
Last night he even tried to join me on my late evening jog. If Blake hadn’t distracted him with tacos, I’m sure he would have been running right beside me as I tried to outrun thoughts of him. The irony.
As I reach the end of the pool and come up for air, I notice someone looming over me.
One of the best things about swimming on a Saturday morning in an elite college was that the pool was usually empty.
The swim team were normally done with practice by 6am, and most college students were sleeping off hangovers or still pulling all-nighters in the library, plus it wasn’t open to the public.
Tearing off my goggles and rubbing my face, I see Evans leaning over with a wide grin. His dark hair looks more like caramel in the early sunlight.
“Hey, what’re you doing here?” When I’d left this morning he’d been making his protein shake and getting ready to go for a run. I think he’d had another phone call from his father last night, it must have been playing on his mind.
He shrugs as he kicks off his flip flops. “Zale mentioned you were here and I thought…well, it’s been a while since I swam.”
“Cool,” I say, clinging onto the edge of the pool. Raising a brow, I chuckle when neither of us moves for a while. “Are you getting in?”
Swallowing, he tears off his shirt and tosses it onto a nearby bench, leaving him in his board shorts.
“Did you even bring a towel?” I say as he dips a toe.
“Nope, I’m going to air dry.” Of course he was. He doesn’t waste another second before canon-balling into the water. If the swim coach could see him now, he’d have a few choice words.
“Shit, it’s colder than I thought it was,” he grumbles, swimming towards me to grab onto the ledge.
“Did you bring goggles?” I ask tilting my head, wondering if he’d actually put much thought into this. The codependency was almost cute, but he’d need to work on it if he was going to cope when Zale finally officially moved out.
“Ah, yes!” He thrusts his hand beneath the water, into one of his pockets and pulls out a pair of goggles I know he got from my room.
Skimming my hand over the surface of the water to splash him, I say, “You know, you can just ask if you want to borrow my shit.”
He shrugs, trying to hold onto the wall with one hand and pull his goggles over his head with the other, snapping himself with the elastic in the process.
“I figured you wouldn’t mind. Or notice. Bro, how is your room so chaotic? Is that what the inside of your brain is like?”
Cutting my hand through the water in figures of eight as I hold onto the edge of the pool, I hum. “Some days.”
“Is it because you’re an artist and all that shit?” He looks like a kid, with the goggles resting on his forehead like he has four eyes.
“Sometimes.” Done with the conversation, I grin. “Ready for some laps?”
Evans pulls the goggles in place and dunks his face in the water to test them.
Splashing he comes back up with an exaggerated breath, he shakes his head, sending droplets my way like a shaggy dog.
“Oh yeah. I’m like a mermaid in the water.
Prepare to be amazed. I’ll bet that if the team coach saw me, he’d beg me to be on the swim team. ”
Rolling my eyes, I put my goggles on. Evans was too big, too bulky to be on the team. Swimming needed streamlined sleek athletes, not muscular rocky terrains.
We swim for a while, mostly trying to race one another. I say trying because as I predicted, Evans is slower, moving through the water like a giant barge rather than a torpedo.
“Goddess, I forgot how hard this was,” he pants, as he folds his arms over the edge of the pool and tries to catch his breath.
I grip the tiles, but bring my knees up to my chest, my feet resting on the wall like I'm about to push off. “You’re telling me the big beefy football star is struggling with a little swimming?”
“It’s a different kind of cardio, okay?” he glares at me while trying to catch his breath.
Slapping his shoulder, I laugh. “Come on Benny, you’ve got a couple more laps in you.”
Before I can dwell on the fact that I’ve used his first name, I push against the wall, diving back beneath the surface. When we’re swimming, I can’t say stupid things.
After winning the final lap, I climb out of the pool without waiting for him.
Shouting over my shoulder that I’m going to shower, I don’t bother looking back as he scrambles to catch up.
I don’t need to be trapped in the locker room with him because if he’s naked near me, there’s no telling what I’ll do.
After the quickest lather and rinse known to man and dragging my clothes on over my still damp body, I head outside. There’s a slight breeze, just enough to take the edge of the stifling heat as I find him sitting on a nearby bench, still shirtless, and air drying just like he promised.
“Chlorine is bad for your skin,” I comment as I pull my sunglasses out of my bag.
“I’ll shower back at the house.” His eyes are closed as he leans back, face tilted up to the sun. Droplets of water cling to his body, and I look away.
“Let’s go then, we’re supposed to meet Zale and Blake at two to go shopping,” I grunt, nudging his slip flop with my sneaker.
“Are you ready to be the best bondparents ever?” Evans says coming out of the house and climbing into my car, fresh and damp.
Strands of hair cling to his neck and he still smells faintly of chlorine and Bergamot.
He’s wearing a pair of cut-off sweatpants, a white tank top and a baseball cap backwards.
I get a glimpse of a nipple while he straps in, the vest armholes dangerously low.
I do my best not to inhale. It’s no use. My alpha has already picked up on the scent of him. He’s not mine, not now, not ever I remind myself as I start the engine and pull off.
“I hope you brought your credit card bondparent,” I tease as we head away from campus to a shopping district nearby. Not that Zale or Shiloh needed us to buy them things, they were both from extremely wealthy families, like almost everyone at Oakley University.
“What do you reckon? Do you think it will be an omega or an alpha? A boy or a girl?” He goes quiet for a moment, lost in his thoughts but he never stays quiet for long.
“What will they do if it’s a beta? If Shiloh is a twin, does that mean that technically, it’s also got half of Millie’s DNA?
And if Zale is mated to Shiloh, is he also kind of mated to Millie anyway? ”
Blinking, I focus on driving and trying to process the words coming out of his mouth. Zale clearly isn’t mated to Millie, otherwise she wouldn’t have pulled out of school and gone into some sort of social exile.
Evans is on a roll as he continues. “Can twins really feel one another's pain? Do you think Millie will feel when Shiloh goes into labor? ”
I chuckle, grateful that the drive is only 30 minutes. Any longer than that and I think I would suffocate on the scent of him while being driven mad trying to keep up with his train of thought.