"Your shift is done, honey," she says quietly, not wanting to interrupt my live too much. "And there are sugar cookies in the break room. Fresh batch."
I actually squeal.
Like, a full-on, embarrassing, probably-just-scared-several-customers squeal of joy.
"Oh my god, you beautiful angel," I stage-whisper to Miss Bea, who just shakes her head and walks away, muttering something about me being "a menace" in the most affectionate way possible.
I turn back to my phone, grinning at the camera. The comments are a mix of heart emojis and people demanding to know what kind of cookies.
"Alright, my lovely book goblins, this is where I leave you for today. Go forth and read! Support Omega authors! Find stories that make you feel seen and loved and validated!" I pause, then add with a wink, "And if you have any amazing cozy omegaverse recommendations, throw them my way. I'm always looking for my next obsession."
I'm about to end the live when a slightly chaotic thought hits me, and because I have zero impulse control, I just... say it.
"And who knows?" I lean in, giving the camera my best mysterious smile. "Maybe you'll see me embark on a steamy Christmas adventure of my own. Stranger things have happened in small towns during the holidays, right?"
The comments explode with speculation and encouragement, but I just wave cheerfully at the camera.
"Okay, for real this time—go read, stay cozy, and remember that you're worthy of the kind of love you read about in books! Bye, loves!"
I blow a kiss at the camera and end the live, immediately letting out a long breath and slumping against the bookshelf behind me.
Performing is exhausting. Being 'on' is exhausting. But also, I love it.
The connection, the community, the feeling that I'm making someone's day a little brighter.
I look down at the three books I've arranged so carefully on the display table—my top holiday reads, each one promising escape and comfort and the kind of love that feels both impossible and inevitable.
The book on top, the Christmas Wonderland farm one, has the most gorgeous cover. Snow-laden pines, a cozy cabin in thebackground, and two figures standing close enough that you can feel the tension radiating off the page. I trace my finger over the embossed title, feeling that familiar ache in my chest.
I want this.
Not just the books—though obviously I want the books—but the feeling they represent.
The promise of something real…lasting and safe.
"What's got you looking so intense?"
I glance up to see Mei, one of my coworkers, leaning against the bookshelf with an amused expression.
She's a Beta with sharp black hair cut into a perfect bob and the kind of dry humor that always catches me off guard. We've worked together for about six months now, and she's gotten used to my chaos.
Mostly.
"Oh, you know," I gesture vaguely at the books. "Just contemplating the existential nature of fictional love versus real life."
Mei raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
"So a normal Tuesday for you."
"Exactly." I pick up the Christmas bestseller that’s doing wonders in the charts, Christmas tree farm theme, staring at the cover. "Okay, but real talk? This series is incredible. Like, genuinely life-changing. The author just gets it, you know? The way they write pack dynamics, the emotional depth, the way the Omega characters are never just damsels in distress?—"
"I sense a 'but' coming," Mei says, crossing her arms with an expectant look.
I groan, dramatic and heartfelt.
"BUT—" I draw the word out, "why isn't there an Omega version? Like, I don't know,The Omega Nest Cafe!"
Mei's eyebrow climbs even higher, which is impressive because I didn't think it could go any further.
