After a few more successful adoptions and accepting a generous donation that’s delivered from an anonymous online supporter, I head to the bathroom and discard my jeans and sweatshirt. After my new outfit is on, I curl my hair into loose waves, then take my time doing a smokey eye with silver glitter pressed onto my eyelids.
The goal tonight is to bring out the warmth in my skin, the hazel in my eyes, and the gold in my hair.
The more tips, the better.
I used to hate my Omega scent. It’s floral, and I used to worry that it was too powdery. Now, I embrace the sweet violet and honey, especially since it blooms so well at Scents.
The cats don’t seem to mind it either. I’ve noticed that some felines are more drawn to me than others, based on how much I’m perfuming that month.
My own kitties, Marlin and Mervin, always find reasons to snuggle me.
So, scent wise, my Omega pheromones could be a lot worse.
Emerging from the bathroom in my full Scents outfit, I hear a low whistle. I turn to see Maeve, playfully eyeing me up and down.
“I need to get a job there,” Maeve sighs. “Just to have another reason to buy more outfits.”
“Your brother would kill you,” Piper warns, but Maeve just shakes her head.
“I’m a grown woman. If Avery has a problem with it, he can kick rocks.”
Piper raises an eyebrow, then shrugs. “Point taken. Good luck telling any of us what to do, I guess.”
“It’s fun,” I tell Maeve. “If there are any problems, Travis can take care of them.”
I clamp my mouth shut, but it’s too late.
Maeve grins wickedly, and I roll my eyes.
“Stop it,” I mutter, but Maeve just holds her hands up.
“I didn’t say anything! I’m just gladTravisis there to protect you.”
Piper shakes her head. “What the hell, Maeve.”
I fidget with the top clasp of my corset top, making sure it’s fastened correctly.
Maeve’s teasing is good-natured, and she doesn’t realize exactlywhyI haven’t expressed interest in Travis, or anyone, besides for friendship.
The easier answer is to just tell her, or anyone else that tries to pry, that I’m not focusing on a relationship now. I’m focusing on building a life and cherishing my independence, and that I don’t need a pack to be happy.
Which is true.
Technically, I’m happy.
Most of the time.
Or at least, Ishouldbe.
But Maeve doesn’t know that I still glance at the calendar anxiously, dreading the month where the anniversary ofitis.
Piper still doesn’t know that it takes me counting to ten before I can start my car and that I grip my wheel a little too tightly on the freeway.
I’ve been good about hiding it in front of her—she’s never noticed when I drive her home or pick her up how sweaty mypalms grow, or that I wipe them on my pant legs when she’s not looking.
Letting Maeve know why I’m not looking for a pack, much less interested in Travis, would just complicate things.
Maybe one day, I’ll let her in.
