Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Mia
The stadium parking lot is completely deserted as we pull out of the only gate that hasn't already been locked. Zak swears there are still plenty of staff on site, and they're just parked on the other side of the stadium, but I have my doubts.
I can't believe I met my three mates while wearing pajama pants.
"You all know I was serious when I said I don't normally look like this, right?"
Zak is seated beside me, and he avoids direct eye contact when I look his way.
Spencer and Freddie are also notably silent from their respective seats up front.
Spencer is driving, which doesn't surprise me one bit.
Apparently, Freddie is usually the one relegated to the back seat because Zak has longer legs, but Spencer told Freddie he couldn't be trusted alone in the back seat with me just yet.
I'm not sure if the head alpha is worried about Freddie putting the moves on me, or if he's worried the beta will do something embarrassing enough to scare me off. Either way, Freddie's pouting as Zak slid into the backseat beside me was an amusing way to start this drive together.
"I own regular clothes. Nice ones. I actually would consider my style to be very boss babe chic, super hot but professional.
" I'm pretty sure the more I talk, the less convincing I sound.
I'm starting to gaslight myself into worrying that my closet might actually be filled with pajama pants and decades-old t-shirts.
And stolen coats.
Can't forget the coat.
I pet the precious coat where it lies folded neatly in my lap.
Zak still refuses to take the coat back, even though I can feel it yearning for its rightful owner.
Or is that me yearning for him? The coat and I have kind of synced up and become one at this point.
The least he could do is offer to roll around on it so it will smell like him again.
Or we could both roll around on it so it can smell like us.
A life spent wrapped around Zak's muscular arms doesn't sound so bad. I wouldn't mind being pressed up against his chest, either. I can see a smattering of dark chest hair peeking out from the V-neck of his gray t-shirt.
"Earth to Mia." Zak chuckles as he waves his hand in front of my face.
"Hmm?" I wipe the corners of my mouth just in case my drooling is too obvious. Don't need these guys knowing I'm staring at them like a starving fox peeking through the chicken wire at a delicious flock of potential fried drumsticks and chicken wings.
"I asked how far your home is from the stadium," Spencer repeats his inquiry for me, glancing in the rearview mirror and winking at me when our eyes meet.
We already agreed to go back to their place, so I know he's only asking out of curiosity and not a need for directions.
I think about my earlier rush to the stadium.
"Oh... about a twenty-minute run if you're not in great shape but are very motivated to get somewhere fast to do a favor for your twin brother, who doesn't know you're playing hooky from the office, which would have only been a ten-minute, fast walk from the stadium. "
"Thanks, that's uh, oddly specific." Spencer is still smiling, but his eyebrows furrow with a bit of confusion.
I'm nervous rambling like my friend Belle does.
I'm usually way more charming than this, but today's events have knocked me off my A-game.
I take a deep breath and try to pull myself together.
Between the rambling and my outfit, they're going to start rethinking whether they really need an omega in their pack or not–fate and biology be damned.
"Enough about me." I give Zak my best flirty smile since he's the closest to me. "Tell me more about you all. How did you all meet?"
Zak surprises me by reaching out to take my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He seems to be a naturally calming presence, and I feel myself relax against the seat as our hands remain clasped together.
"Spencer and I played on rival football teams in college." Zak laughs under his breath.
"Really?"
He nods as Spencer grumbles from the front seat. "Just for one year. Spencer was the hotshot freshman quarterback that everyone was watching. I was a senior tight end about to go pro. I ran the winning touchdown in that game."
"And he'll never let me forget it," Spencer chimes in.
Freddie turns around in his seat with a beaming smile. "They tried to resist each other for a few more years, until they both happened to be at the same bar one Friday night when I went onstage to do my stand-up routine."
"You're a comedian?" That doesn't surprise me at all. Freddie clearly has a goofy personality, which makes me think he's always going to be great fun.
He shakes his head, not losing his smile at all. The movement causes the collar of his shirt to move just enough to reveal a bite mark on his neck. Betas can be bonded by alphas, just like omegas. It makes me curious where I can find the second one, and which alpha bit him where.
Another voice pulls me out of my wishful planning.
"Nope," Spencer answers for him. "The band took a short break, and Freddie jumped up and launched into this stand-up routine about why nachos should be considered a soup."
"Why should–"
Zak squeezes my hand in warning and shakes his head. "Don't get him started."
Freddie shrugs one shoulder and promises, "I'll tell you all about it later."
I have a feeling life with this pack is never, ever boring.
I stare out the car window with wide eyes as we pull up to a gated community that I didn't even know existed. The only person in my life who could even afford a place like this might be my boss, Quinn. And she still chooses to live in a tiny apartment close to the office.
I've dated some men with great careers and nice homes, but this is downright intimidating.
Spencer pauses at a black box to input a code that opens the gate ahead of us. "We can get you your own code first thing Monday morning when the office opens."
It takes me a second to realize he's talking to me.
They don't even know me yet, and he's ready to give me a code into their fancy-shmancy neighborhood? Wild. Why do I have the urge to toilet paper their house the next time they're busy at an away game?
I'm a menace. This must be why I feel so unbothered by Freddie locking me in a closet. The weirdest part of my brain understands him.
As we pull through the gate, a wave of discomfort falls over me.
Something feels off suddenly, but I can't quite put my finger on where the feeling is coming from.
I happily got in the car with these strangers, and I've been an enthusiastic participant in this weird situation so far, but I suddenly have the urge to run home with my metaphorical tail tucked between my legs.
"I just realized something," Zak interrupts my internal turmoil. "We never asked you what you do for work." He looks over at me expectantly, no idea the can of worms this question will open.
There hasn’t been much time for them to ask me anything, really, but I’m glad we’re getting the hard part out of the way.
Pun intended.
I turn my head toward the window again so I can hide my sly smile. The reactions are always mixed when I tell people what I do for work. Some people want to know all the details. Some people are more prudish and look at me like they'd like to run away from me the moment they hear my answer.
None of these guys seem like the type to scare easily.
"I sell sex," I announce proudly.
"What?" Zak yelps as Spencer's foot slams down on the brake, throwing all of us forward. My seatbelt automatically locks, pulling me back against the seat as I grasp desperately for the coat in my lap to protect it at all costs.
Freddie leans forward and turns the radio off, letting the car descend into a moment of silence as Spencer resumes driving without a single word of acknowledgment of my claim. I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
"I tried to sell feet pics online when I was barely paying my rent.
" Freddie nods thoughtfully to himself. "Now that you have us, obviously, you won't have to sell your body for pleasure anymore.
You can give it to us for free, and in return we'll... uhm, make sure you don't have to pay bills.
" He looks over at Spencer. "Is that still kind of prostitution? Sorry, the polite term is sex work now, isn’t it?”
"Freddie, shut up." Spencer groans and shakes his head. There's no malice in his words, and Freddie doesn't seem bothered. I have a feeling he's told to shut up as a common occurrence.
Freddie continues unfazed, "If my moms ask, though–I have two moms, by the way–maybe we can tell them you used to be a schoolteacher instead."
Zak's hand has tightened around mine like a snake trying to squeeze the life out of its prey. Spencer seems to have a similar grip on the steering wheel, the muscles of his arms tensed as he strangles the wheel at ten and two.
"I'm not a sex worker," I clarify, putting the guys out of their misery.
Talking about my work always feels easier when I open with a shock-value joke, and then explain the much more reasonable reality.
"I'm head of marketing for Nest & Knot. We sell sex toys.
Most of the product lines are geared towards omegas, but there are a couple of product lines for general use, too. "
The car slows, and Spencer loosens his death grip on the steering wheel as he turns into a circular driveway. All three guys try to discreetly exhale, but none of them does a good job of hiding their reaction.
There will be plenty of time for me to lecture them on the importance of sex workers later.
As a beta, Freddie would be less likely to ever require their services for biological relief, but there are plenty of alphas and omegas who seek out professionals to help them through the more difficult times if they're single.
It makes me curious if my pack has ever volunteered at an Omega Center or possibly used similar services before–or after–they met with Freddie.
Not everyone can get by with suppressants or willpower.
We stop in front of a house. Their house.
A monstrosity of a house. All I can see is giant gray stone walls at first from my window.
Zak lets go of my hand so he can unclip his seat belt.
Dread pools heavily in my gut. I kind of don't want to get out of the car all of a sudden, but everyone else gets out, so I don't feel like staying put is a reasonable option.
Spencer is out of the driver's seat and around the car to open my door in record time. The athlete side of him doesn't ever seem to relax. He's all muscles and sharp, watchful eyes all the time. I try to focus on him instead of the ugly house looming behind him.
"I have so many questions about your job," he says, offering me a hand up from the backseat.
"So this topic of conversation is to be continued.
" He leans close, stealing the air right out of my lungs as I stare into his gorgeous, warm brown eyes.
They glisten like fresh honey as he says, "I'm glad you seem to have a sense of humor.
You'll need it when you see Freddie's weird feet and remember what he said about trying to sell feet pics to pay bills. "
"Hey! My feet are the same amount of weird as anyone else's feet!" Freddie protests loudly enough that I have a feeling these guys don't have many friends in the neighboring mansion monstrosities.
Zak pats Freddie's shoulder. "The most important thing is that you love yourself."
"I think the most important thing," he elbows past Spencer and loops his arm through mine, "is being the first to show Mia around her soon-to-be home. You snooze, you lose." He sticks his tongue out at them as he drags me past them and toward the front door.
Even though I want to dig my heels in and refuse to get any closer to the ominous front door, which is as gray as the rest of the dreary house, I grit my teeth and let him pull me along. I'll let them give me the tour, and I can even do my best to keep an open mind.
But living here?
No. Hell fucking no. Every muscle in my body protests the very thought. A chill settles into my bones at the mere thought of walking through the entire house.
And that's all this place is: a house.
Not a home.