Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Mia
The man whose stolen coat I'm wearing looks back and forth between Milo and me.
My brother looks like he's sizing up the man next to me, wondering if he could take him in a fight.
The odds are slim to none, even before considering the fact that there are two other men on either side of him who he'd potentially also have to fight.
My brother couldn't even get past the white belt in karate class as a kid. I made it to a blue belt before he got so embarrassed that Mom finally agreed to stop making us go, and let me take gymnastics class with my friends, instead.
"Yes, we're twins," Milo answers the unspoken question in a flat tone. He puts his free hand on his hip, and his voice turns especially snarky as he asks, "Are you going to un-kidnap my sister now, please?"
I brush past the man in the closet, shuddering openly when our arms brush.
My first skin-to-skin contact with a scent-match. Swoon.
That simple brush of skin is nothing compared to the sensation that hits me like an internal storm the moment I step out of the closet and get the full experience of standing amongst my scent-matches.
All of my anxiety from being locked in a strange closet dissipates as my brain floats away on a cloud of bliss.
I'm surrounded by all of the best scents I've ever experienced.
Sandalwood. Sea salt. Eucalyptus. I'm transported to a tropical paradise, the sun shining on my face, and I'm overtaken by a wave of familiarity as I realize this feels just like the dream I was having before Milo's call woke me up from my couch nap earlier.
Discreetly, I pinch my own arm to make sure I'm awake this time. An entire scent-match pack, and they're already right here with the delicious scent of existing bonds. What are the odds I would get to meet all three of them at once?
Most stories are like my friend Belle's, meeting one scent-matched mate who then introduces the rest of the pack.
Some omegas aren't even that lucky. There's always the possibility of finding a scent-match who hasn't found the other members of the pack yet.
That's always one of the most confusing experiences, trying to decide whether to solidify the one bond they do have and close the relationship for good or to remain open to the possibility of more partners in the dynamic in the future.
Not all fates are created equally. In my totally biased opinion, my scenario is clearly the absolute best. The experience leaves me feeling so joyous and light, like the luckiest damn girl in the entire fucking world!
I mean, sure, I might not have picked a man in a sloth suit as my first choice for a mate...
In fact, I tilt my head as I study the mascot, curious why I didn't catch his scent before.
Maybe the suit has built-in blockers, given the number of athletes who are alphas, the fewer distractions on the field, the better.
The third man steps forward, and I instantly recognize Spencer Mills, the quarterback my brother named, who interrupted the game to stare at me.
Now I know for sure that I really wasn't imagining that part.
My brain did mental gymnastics in the storage closet, trying to rationalize that the hot quarterback couldn't possibly be the yummy scent-match I smelled, even if he did just so happen to seem to react to my presence moments before I smelled him.
"Freddie is a beta, so his scent isn't as strong on its own, and the suit has blockers," Spencer explains, clearly sensing my confusion. There's a strength that radiates from him that brings out an urge to give him my complete attention.
As I study Spencer more closely, I'm certain he must be the head of the pack.
And I totally called it about the suit having blockers built in.
"How dare you?" Freddie, from inside his mascot suit, protests. "Simon can hear you." He uses his clawed right hand to pet the left arm of the suit in a loving way that reminds me of a comedic villain in a 90s movie.
Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose. This isn't the first time they've had a conversation like this. "Freddie, Simon is a costume. A wearable inanimate object. Simon the Sloth doesn't have feelings, only fur and the lingering smell of sweat. The suit needs to be cleaned."
"I can't trust just anyone to clean this suit. Do you know how hard it is to source a sloth mascot? Most companies don't even make them!" Freddie crosses his arms and taps his furry foot on the ground.
I'm not surprised to hear that the sloth is not a popular sports mascot. I am surprised to hear that the cleaning of the Simon the Sloth suit seems to be such a point of contention. Freddie seems to be deeply attached to the mascot suit.
Standing here in a stolen coat I've coveted all year, I'm hardly in any position to judge anyone else's unusual attachment to a beloved garment. My experience at The Scent Vault last weekend still haunts me.
And it always will. Always.
"Let's table that discussion for later," suggests my coat's rightful owner. "There are more important things to focus on right now." He smiles down at me, and it's a thrilling feeling to be smiled down at. I'm taller than average for a female omega.
I return his smile and squeeze his coat tighter around me, trying to imagine it’s his arms embracing me.
"I'm Zak Klein, tight end for the Sloths," he introduces himself, holding his hand out to mine. An electric shock of awareness zaps through me when I place my smaller hand in his seemingly giant one. With hands like that, he was born to play a throwing and catching sport.
The moment Zak releases my hand, Spencer swoops in to take his place. "I'm Spencer Mills, quarterback and captain."
Such formal introductions would feel too stiff and business-like for me if it weren't for Freddie stepping forward to take his turn next, holding his sloth claw out to me and waiting patiently for me to shake it.
"And I'm Simon the Sloth, but you can call me by my government name, which is Freddie. And I’ll call you my little leafy green, since that’s what sloths like to eat.
" Without being able to see the man behind the mascot mask, I'm not sure how seriously I'm supposed to take this introduction, so I bite back the urge to laugh.
Delicately, I shake the long, plastic claws attached to his mascot suit. Letting go after enough time passes that I don't think I'll offend Freddie–or Simon the Sloth.
"I'm Mia, and this is the most surreal moment of my entire life," I murmur as the sloth claws release my hand. I look at each of the three of them, my lips slowly forming a smile so wide it makes my cheeks ache to hold the grin.
I wish I could go into heat right this second, even if it meant they were dragging me back into the supply closet to knot me. Now that I have them in my sights, I don't want them to go anywhere. I'm so excited to know them, to learn every detail about them.
What were their childhoods like?
How did they find each other?
Are they comfortable working with sex toys in the bedroom? I would love to pitch a partnership with the Sloths to Quinn for a new line of team-inspired toys.
But I can't ask that last question with my brother still lingering nearby. The smile fades from my face as I look at him, wondering why he's still here. Doesn't he realize that now I've met my scent-matches and he's free to go?
My brother is always such a cockblocker. I try to give him the sign to excuse himself by wiggling my eyebrows at him aggressively. Something he doesn’t catch on to. My brother is also obtuse.
An obtuse cockblocker.
Milo realizes he has a fleeting moment of my attention and lurches forward, putting himself between the three other men and me.
"Well, this was interesting. We should really get going, though.
Members of the press aren't allowed in the team-only areas of the stadium without a special pass, and the team owner never gives them out here. "
What is he talking about? I scrunch my nose, confused that he's trying to get me to leave.
"I can give you a ride back to the office," Milo adds, as if that holds any appeal. I forgot I still haven't explained that I wasn't at work when he called.
A little white lie is totally fine. "I'm not due back at the office today." I smile very convincingly, but he narrows his eyes anyway. Why did we have to be born twins? I swear he has a sixth sense for when I'm lying.
"Don't you need to go back for your laptop?" he asks pointedly.
He's got me there. I never leave the office without my designer laptop bag in tow.
The cute leather bag was a splurge after I helped land a huge deal my first year with the company.
That bag rarely leaves my sight for more than a couple of hours at a time.
I sleep with it next to the bed. Hell, a couple of times I've slept with it in my bed.
No judgment allowed–the bed gets cold at night when you're single for too long. Any companionship feels welcome, even if it's from an expensive designer accessory.
Spencer scoffs, saving me from the consequences of my own white lie.
"You said yourself that Mia isn't a camera person, so she's more than welcome to be back here as our guest. We'll make sure she gets home safely.
" He looks at me, careful not to leave me out of this conversation that's about me.
"Freddie has a private dressing room where you can wait for us while we get changed, and then we can give you a ride anywhere you want to go. "
The offer is so kind of him. I have lots of ideas of places where they could give me a ride.
Milo is already shaking his head. "That's ridiculous. She came here for me. I'll be the one who takes her home."
There was a time in our childhood when my twin tricked me into hiding from our parents at the mall, telling me it would be hilarious. In reality, it was just an excuse for him to try to eat my haul from the candy store before they found me.
It took over an hour for him to confess, and only after several security guards got involved in the search.
But sure, today he wants to play the protective brother role.
Spencer shuffles from foot to foot, and I can sense he's losing his patience.
His eucalyptus scent turns slightly wilted as he glares at the back of my brother's head.
"Not happening, buddy. And Mia can decide for herself what she wants to do when she leaves the stadium. She might want to come home with us."
"No way!" My brother's ears flush red with anger as he whirls around to face Spencer. I take a step back to avoid being hit by the camera in his hand as his arms swing around.
My white belt brother does not need to be attempting to go toe-to-toe with a professional athlete. I tap him on the shoulder to bring his attention back to me and clear my throat so that my next words are incredibly clear. "Yes way."
He stares at me with wide, confused eyes. The words don't seem to compute.
"Did you somehow miss the fact that these guys are obviously my scent-matches?" I bat my eyelashes at him. "So, yes, I'm definitely going to wait around until I can leave with them. Duh."
Milo gapes at me, still confused for some reason. This is why I always argue that I'm the smarter twin.
If the situation were reversed, I doubt he’d decide to jump in a rideshare to head home instead of jumping the bones of his own scent-match.
Ew, I don’t need that image in my head.
He steps closer and lowers his voice as if the guys three feet behind him won't still hear him. "Don't let the scent-match go to your head. You should have some space, take a deep breath, and then meet again on neutral ground."
I throw my head back and laugh. None of that sounds like something I would do.
"No thanks." I lean around him to finger wave at Spencer, Zak, and Freddie. "Hurry up and get changed so you can take me home, boys!"
Spencer and Zak break into matching grins. Forget getting to know each other, I'm ready to fall into bed and see if the sexual chemistry is as good as our scent chemistry.
Freddie pulls his sloth head off and tucks it under his arm, revealing his boyishly handsome face.
His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes as he looks over at Spencer and Zak.
He takes a deep breath that feels heavy with hesitation, and then says, "We probably ought to wait for the stadium to clear out completely before we walk out together. "
"What? Why?" I saw plenty of security on my way into the stadium. I'm sure there's plenty on the way out, too, if he's worried about safety.
Simultaneously, as if they rehearsed the gesture beforehand, all of them drop their eyes to my outfit. Even my brother, the traitor, looks down at the pants I only own because of him. Freddie grimaces openly, while Zak and Spencer more carefully keep their features schooled in passive expressions.
Oh, right... I look like I picked my outfit out of a donation bin at the local thrift store during a power outage. Even the guy in the sloth suit doesn't want to be seen with me dressed like this.