A laugh bursts out of me. “It’s so fun. Games aren’t supposed to be perfect.”
“Yes, but doing the same level over and over again because you don’t care enough to get it right the first time isnot fun.”
“I’m not going to apologize for not being as competitive as you,” I say, smirking. “If you want someone competitive, get Jett or Dax to play with you. Better yet, get them to play it with each other. That would be a show.”
Rory scoffs. “Please, like they don’t bicker enough already.”
“They bicker with love,” I add.
She smiles then, sweet and a little bashful. “Yes. They bicker with love.”
We talk for a few minutes about her new cinematography class when the front door opens and three bodies walk in. I thought from being around their scents so much in their home that it would make me immune, but the combined aroma floods the place with the cold, bitter freeze blowing in from the doorway and sends shivers through my body. It’s a conjunction of feelings as it both soothes me and zaps me in place.
I see Kit first, his hand interlaced with Sam’s. When his eyes meet mine, they light up, and before I know it, he’s marching my way, pulling Sam abruptly with the force of their interlocked fingers. Thatcher takes off his coat and immediately sits down to interact with Stacia’s mates.
When Kit gets to me, still covered in his winter coat and beanie, a grin lights up his face. “I was hoping you’d be here.”
I hear Rory snort under her breath and almost elbow her in response, but I grit my teeth instead. Kit’s forwardness is both refreshing and nerve-racking. I’m not used to honesty, so Kit’scandidness startles me. “Yep,” I finally respond. “I had a long day taking care of children, so I thought being around other like-minded adults was a good idea.”
This time, Rory lets her chuckle be heard. “Like-minded adults? Are you including Dax and Ciro in that assessment?”
Sam’s lips twitch with amusement as Kit chuckles. “I also don’t think I should be grouped in that. Not until I have a 401k and that’ll probably be a long time.”
The sentiment pulls out a sincere smile in me. I watch as Sam unwraps his hand from Kit’s and starts to take his coat off him so he doesn’t burn up. The motion of it leaves me a bit breathless, an alpha taking care of his omega.
I just watched that happen to both of my friends before they arrived, but it didn’t have quite the same effect on me as this does. My skin prickles in a sweat at the simple accommodation.
“I’m going to get us some drinks,” Sam announces.
Kit looks at me and then at my empty hands before looking back at his scent match. “Cool. Can you get our new roomie something, too?”
My mouth slightly gapes, but before I can open it fully to decline, Sam looks at me with a look that I can’t decipher. It holds me in place and makes me a bit breathless.
He looks at me like I’m a puzzle to solve, and I’m not sure how it makes me feel. My omega interprets it as the tiniest sliver of attention from her alpha, but I think that’s warranted in biological delusion.
“Sure, what do you like?” Sam finally asks.
I try to shrug casually. “Anything that tastes like berries and masks the alcohol.” Kit laughs and agrees, asking for something similar before the alpha walks away. My eyes feel glued to his retreating form, his T-shirt and sweatpants looking out of placecompared to his usual suit, despite it being a casual Friday night.
The past week has been miles better than the past month or so, partly because I have the space to finally relax and be on my own, but also because Sam is so busy that he’s never around the house. Whenever he has made an appearance, it was mainly for a quick meal or shower and then he’d be on his way again.
Kit spends a lot of time at the house alone, but besides that first day, I haven’t pushed myself to seek out his company even though it’s what my omega desperately wants. Anytime he’s in the living room on his laptop or making a quick lunch, I’ve had to fight with myself to go out there and ask him to hang out. It’s been successful so far, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up. Not when his watermelon scent makes the space feel like so much…more.
The smell of it brings me back even now, as I realize I’ve been particularly quiet after Sam has left, and Kit has been listening intently about the movie that Rory is excited to see this weekend. When he catches me staring, he smirks, and it makes me swallow roughly.
“Do you want to go see it?” he asks me.
I raise my brows. “What?”
He points at my friend. “The new movie Rory is talking about. It’s some kind of thriller.”
“Folk horror,” Rory corrects.
My head is already shaking. “No, no.” I flick my hands a bit, the idea of seeing anythingfolk horror-yalready giving me the heebie-jeebies. “I’m not really a horror buff. I’m more into animated films and romantic comedies.”
He nods, contemplating. “Okay, well… there’s a romantic comedy I want to see playing this weekend, too. Would you like to go see it with me?”
My eyebrows fly all the way up. “Whichone?”
