Chapter 7 #2
My personal favorite was the spiced maple bacon croissant sandwich. I’ll probably never order it again because it’s apparently seasonal, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
Later in the afternoon, Casey says he has to head into work, but that he’ll keep his phone on if I need him. The sentiment eases a tiny bit of my anxiety, and I hug him tight before he heads out the door, his beautiful scent trailing behind him.
When he’s gone, it’s almost too quiet. My heart beats wildly in my chest, and a pit the size of an apple sits heavy in my stomach.
I wish I could say I don’t know what to do, but that would be a lie.
I have no other choice but to sign up for Heat Seekers and find alphas for my impending heat, especially since I have no idea when it’ll actually start.
It could be tonight, or it could be twenty minutes from now.
Either way, I’m shit out of luck without Heat Seekers.
I download the app—reluctantly—pulling it up and looking through the settings. It seems organized, and that instantly eases my anxiety about using it to help match me to eager alphas.
I mean… I’m assuming they’re eager. There are probably very few alphas on here that would turn down an omega in need of heat partners, if any. I would be surprised.
Putting together my profile is kind of therapeutic.
I like that whoever I match with will have all the information they need before ever chatting with me.
I’m not very good at telling people things about myself, so having it all in a pretty little box is a dream come true.
I add a few photos—selfies that I felt good in, one of Casey and I that we took last year when WPCU’s football team made it to the championship, and one of Mavin and I at the premier of the Spiderman movie a few months ago.
I groan thinking about telling Mavin what happened last night. She’s going to be so smug about it.
My stomach spasms. I lean over and try to breathe through it, knowing that this heat is coming sooner rather than later. The twinge leaves me feeling a bit sore, but after a few moments, I’m well enough to look back at my phone.
Once I confirm that my results were negative for all tests at my last doctor’s appointment, my profile is complete. I scour the app, trying to figure out the matching system, when I see the option to send out an emergency alert.
I sigh. I don’t really have a choice, do I?
My finger clicks on it before I can overthink it, and then it asks me to put in some kind of radius. I don’t really know what I’m doing, but when it’s all set and the alert is out, I let out a breath.
I get up to make more tea, repeating mantras to keep myself at ease.
“It’s just for a week. Everything is fine. It’ll match me with nice alphas.”
I say that in my head a few more times: Nice alphas, nice alphas, nice alphas.
Before my tea can finish settling, there’s an alert on my phone. I close my eyes tight, willing the tension in my gut to unwind, but it pulls tighter instead. I focus on finishing my task, pouring creamer into the chai tea, before I sit back down at the table.
I hold the cup between my palms, the tea acting as my lifeline as I stare at my phone.
I feel ridiculous, like this is bigger than it needs to be, but my heart can’t seem to communicate with my head and its racing thoughts.
At long last, I pick it up, prepared to rip the band aid off and see who responded.
My eyes expand when I see the assortment of pictures on my screen. Three alphas, all tall and broad, standing shoulder to shoulder in their soccer uniforms. I spot the crest on their green uniforms and realize they must be on WPCU’s soccer team.
The alpha on the left is the smallest, most lean. He has brown skin, his hair shaggy and fanning into layers around his face. His arm is around his friends, his smile all teeth, and eyes full of wisdom.
The middle alpha is the tallest, his muscles nearly popping out of his uniform. Short brown hair, green eyes, and a jolly demeanor that I think Casey would love. He’s always had a thing for unserious jocks, and this guy seems right up his alley.
Not to say he doesn’t look like he’s up my alley, because he definitely does. His shorts are tight around his thighs, and I find it hard to pull my gaze from them as I look at the next alpha in the picture.
He has darker skin than the first guy, his black hair standing up a few inches and styled perfectly. He grins wide, and there’s joy coming from him. It’s not a fake smile, or performative; it looks like he is really having the time of his life, and I can’t wait to feel that light in person.
I look at each of them, my chest rising and falling as each second passes. I feel my skin heat up, just the presence of them enough to send my omega into a hormonal fit.
The profile says Pack Prescott, and I wipe my eyes to make sure I’m not dreaming. It’s really a pack, and they’re trying to answer my call. The thought of being near them, much less having a heat with them? I nearly choke on my tea when I take a sip to quench my thirst.
I never thought I could feel this kind of intense attraction for anyone other than Casey, but here they are, extracting this unexpected reaction out of me from just a few photos.
The anguish I was feeling earlier today was futile, because I’m no longer worried about my heat.
For some reason, these guys feel safe. They look well-intentioned, and I need alphas that are going to be kind to me during this heat.
There’s no point in avoiding the inevitable, especially when I feel a tiny shimmer of hope and excitement swirling around in my gut. I open the request and hit accept.