Chapter 8
Beckham
My phone screen taunts me. It’s been three hours since I sent Andi the text messages letting her know I was in. Three hours since she left me on read.
“It’s movie night, no phones,” Eli mutters, plucking my phone from my grasp.
“Hey! Give that back!” I scramble towards him, but he easily keeps my phone away from me, raising his hand in the air.
“Pause the movie, Leo?” Eli grunts.
“Sure,” Leo answers, pausing the movie.
“What happened in the last ten minutes?” Eli’s brow is raised expectantly as he waits for my answer.
I have no fucking clue.
I haven’t been paying any attention to the movie on screen. My mind has been elsewhere.
For valid reasons, in my opinion.
“I don’t know, okay?” I mutter. “Still, give me my phone back!”
“You were the one to make the no phones during movie night rule,” Eli says, a line forming between his brows.
“Tonight’s not a normal movie night, okay? I’m sorry.” I push myself up to my feet, standing on the couch cushion to grab my phone from Eli. He doesn’t fight.
Good.
I would’ve lost if it came down to anything physical.
“I’ll take myself and my phone and leave you two to the movie,” I mumble, shoving my phone into the pocket of my gray sweats and heading to my room.
The blue text bubbles on my phone taunt me as I stare down at them and I swear I wear a hole in my carpet waiting for her to respond.
Have I ever been this torn up about someone before?
No, definitely not.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this torn up about anything. Not even music.
But there’s something inside me that desperately wants to help Andi. There’s an even bigger part of me that’s terrified of rejection.
It’s hard not to be when you’re as weird as I am.
Not even in a “I’m not like other guys,” kind of way, but a “my designation is so new most people don’t know what the fuck to do with me” kind of way.
Andi’s the most stunning omega I’ve ever met, and there’s something ridiculously calming about her chamomile scent. I wonder how it sweetens when she’s happy. I haven’t had the chance to see her when she’s happy yet.
I’m going to change that.
If only she would answer my texts.
I know this whole thing is supposed to be fake. It’s to make sure that she doesn’t have to go back to that ex-boyfriend of hers, but still. Is she attracted to me like I am to her? What if she’s not? What if she’s only into alphas?
“Fuuuck,” I groan, scrubbing a hand down my face. I’m driving myself crazy.
There’s a soft knock at my door.
“Yes?”
“I’ve got a pint of ice cream and your favorite blanket calling your name,” Eli says, his deep voice muffled through the door.
My eyes fall shut, and a strangled whoosh of relief leaves my lungs.
This is the Eli I know and love. Not the asshole he was to Andi.
“Come in,” I answer, flopping back into my massive bed and flinging my phone to the side.
“Hey,” Eli says, his voice soft.
“Hi.”
“It’s your favorite flavor.” Eli holds a pint of Rocky Road and a spoon in front of my face, and like a moth to a flame, it works at drawing me out of my shell.
“What about the movie?” I ask, pushing myself up against my pillows.
“Leo said he had some work to do with the legal team,” he says. “So we just thought it’d be best to save it for another night.”
He climbs into bed beside me, tucking me under his arm before he passes me the ice cream. He knows exactly what to do when I’m in a mood. I was never a big cuddler before I presented, but nowadays, when I get really freaked out, the only thing that can help me come down is physical contact.
I lean into his chest, inhaling his blood orange scent. It soothes the buzzing anxiety flowing through my body like an electric current.
“Want to talk about it?” Eli offers, tucking the fuzzy blanket around our legs.
We should probably talk about a lot more than just how I’m feeling right now, but curled up into Eli’s side, I don’t feel like touching any of it and ruining this perfect moment.
“Where has this Eli been?” I mumble around a spoonful of ice cream. “You’ve been an asshole these past few days.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he says with a grimace. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too. I’ve been... kinda crazy.”
“You haven’t been that crazy.”
“Well, then I feel crazy,” I sigh, shoving another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. “This whole omega stuff is hard to get used to. It’s only been two and a half years.”
“Yeah, I can only imagine.”
“It’s like I’m not in control the moment I get emotional,” I continue between my bites of ice cream. “I thought—I thought they’d get better after taking the clinical trial suppressants, but those haven’t even worked all the way.”
Suppressants are made available to all omegas, free of charge, through the OCN.
The only issue is that the medications they have only work effectively for female omegas.
Since male omegas have only really been popping up in significant numbers recently, everyone is scrambling to find good alternatives.
An omega not on suppressants has their heat every three to four months. With the new trial suppressants I’m on, I get mine every six months.
And every six months, Eli and I spend a week locked away in my nest. Just like that first heat.
“What do you mean they haven’t worked?” Eli asks, his brows drawn down in concern. “They push back your heat, right? That’s been working properly.”
“They do, but—but—I don’t know. I thought that when I took them, I’d go back to normal. Before I presented.”
My chest feels too tight as I struggle to take a deep breath. Eli’s blood orange scent fills my lungs, the same as it’s been since he went into pre-awakening during puberty, giving me the courage to look up at him.
“Do you ever wish things went back to normal? To before I presented?” The edge of the spoon digs into my hand.
Eli freezes, his breath stuttering in his chest as his dark gaze roves across my face. I see the moment he recognizes that my question is so much deeper than it seems.
“No,” he says, shifting his weight and pressing his thigh harder into my own. “Never.”
“Really? Even though—I know—” The words get caught in my throat.
How the hell am I supposed to word to my best friend that I know that needing to take an alpha’s knot every six months makes our friendship complicated.
“I know—I know most alphas who volunteer or work at the OCN aren’t interested in knotting a male omega,” I say, my words coming out in a rushed, jumbled mess. “It’s why I’ve been denied at a lot of the centers I’ve tried. And I—I dunno, I just feel bad.”
“Nothing to feel bad about,” Eli murmurs, reaching out and squeezing the back of my neck, his thumb pressing into the tense muscles.
I let out an embarrassing little sigh of satisfaction.
“But you were never into guys, not like—not like me,” I say.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Eli shrugs.
His words pierce straight through my heart. I move to push away from him on the bed, but I’m stopped by the hold he has on the back of my neck.
“I’m not finished.”
“Then finish,” I breathe out.
“That shit doesn’t matter to me. Because you needed my help. Need, if we count this—”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t fuckin’ apologize for shit like this. It’s your biology. You can’t help it. And I know how scary it was... I wasn’t going to let you go through that shit alone.”
My eyes flutter shut, and I let his words wash over me like a soothing balm.
With us pressed against each other on my bed, with a melting pint of my favorite ice cream, wrapped in a blanket that smells like him, I can pretend that everything is okay. That I can have the kind of relationship omegas dream about.
“I know I’ve been an ass about people finding out about us,” Eli mumbles. “I’m just terrified of what the media will do to you if they find out. I’m not—I’m not ashamed about our arrangement, you know.”
The cardboard carton of my ice cream bends under my grip. My next question about what the hell happened between us that night of the Grammys is on the tip of my tongue. But before I have a chance to ask it, we’re interrupted by the buzzing of my phone.
“Someone calling you?”
I shove my pint of ice cream into Eli’s hands as I scramble to the foot of my bed, picking up my phone to see it’s Andi’s number calling me back.
“It’s Andi!” I don’t think I can help the relieved grin that splits across my face if I tried.
I crawl back to my spot next to Eli and answer the call.
“Hello?” Andi’s soft voice is a little hoarse. There’s a soft noise on the other end of the line that sounds suspiciously like a sniffle. “Is this Beck?”
“This is! Are you—thanks for calling me—are you okay?”
She pauses on the other end of the line.
“Are you a mind reader? Or is it just an omega thing?”
“Wait, that’s not an answer. Is everything okay?”
Eli sets down the pint of ice cream on my bedside table, his brows drawn down in concern. Even though she’s not on speakerphone, the room is quiet enough for him to listen to everything she’s saying.
“No,” she says, her voice trembling, halfway between a sob and a laugh. “How could you tell?”
“I just could,” I say, softening my voice. “Maybe it is an omega sixth sense thing; I am new to all of this, after all.”
“Really?” She asks, seemingly eager to change the subject.
“Mhmm, I was a late bloomer. I only presented when my first heat hit me like a truck. I was twenty-two.”
“Wait, so only two years ago?”
“You’ve been doing some Googling, have you?” I tease, leaning further into Eli’s side.
“Hey, I’m sure you’ve Googled me too. Though the stuff you’ve probably found on me is a lot less cool than the stuff I found on you.”
My heart flutters in my chest at her teasing tone. God, I don’t know what it is about this girl that has me all tied up in knots.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I murmur.
She falls silent on the other end of the line. It has me shifting nervously, my caramel scent burning in the air.
“Do you need help?” I push.
“No, I’m fine,” she says. She lets out a soft huff, like she’s just laid down somewhere. “I’m just a bit shaken up. Ezra showed up at my place.”