And life persists. So I pick up my planner and head to the front door, ready to continue on. There’s nothing else I can do.
TWO
My leg cramps for the millionth time. My mouth opens to let out a sound of anguish, but I hold it back at the last second, screaming inside my head instead. The room is so quiet, and the last thing I need is for the entirety of Alpha Xi to notice me hiding in the corner while they have their meeting.
When I started dating Sam, I had no idea that we’d spend most of our time at his fraternity. I was surprised to learn that he was in a frat atall, much less as thepresident. His vibe was more studious,serious. But when I recognized the difference he was making here at Alpha Xi, it all made sense.
I love everything about Sam. How much he loves being president. The unspoken tenderness he has for his friends and frat brothers. His deep passion for charity. I even love his compulsive need to micromanage. I love him so much, I’m willing to put up with these chapter meetings. They are dull as hell, but—luckily—I always have my Steam Deck to curb my boredom.
Thankfully, things start to wrap up as soon as my leg settles down. Many tall, athletic forms stand to leave, moving as slowlyas the meeting did. Probably because a lot of them live here and want to take the opportunity to converse with their brothers who live off-campus, like Sam and Thatcher.
I’m not short by any means at six feet, but there are too many heads in this room to recognize my pack mates, so I just move to the doorway, hoping they’ll find their way to me.
Pack Pearson walks by first, energetic and discussing their plans for tonight. Uriah says something about picking up Indian food for their omega, and Ciro excitedly pumps his fist, muttering something about craving a lassi. Their prime Atlas stops and smiles when he sees me.
“Kit! Back for another meeting?” he asks. “At this point, you probably know what’s going on around here more than most members do.”
“I don’t really pay that much attention, to be honest. Aren’t these supposed to be sacred?” I ask, implying the rumors I’ve heard about most frats and the secrecy that surrounds them.
Kendall, another member of Atlas’s pack, overhears and laughs. “That sounds more like secret society stuff. Hazing cover-ups and all that. Schools in the south do that more often, I think.”
“Well, thank god we don’t live there,” I joke. “I’m not trying to be a conspiracy theorist, I swear.”
“More schools should definitely be extra vigilant and strict when it comes to the behavior of their Greek houses,” Atlas affirms as he waves off my statement. “I already told Sam, but I want to extend the invitation to you, too. We’re having some people over tomorrow. Not a party, per se, but it’ll give some of us the chance to hang out with the guys again outside of these walls.”
I nod, mentally checking if I have anything to do tomorrow. When I come up empty, I return his smile. “That sounds fun. Who else is going to be there?”
“Besides some of the members, the usual. Everett and Dax’s pack will be there, I think Opal said she might stop by…”
He continues to list some of their friends, but my brain catches on to one name like a token. The only memory I have of her is seared into my brain. Red cheeks, orange curls, and a watermelon-covered thermos. Not to mention the anime pins that riddled her jean jacket.
I have thought about her many times since, how she inhaled sharply as Sam and I scooted by her in the hockey arena. I’ve never wanted to know someone’s scent so bad in my life, much less another omega’s. That thought should be frightening, but somehow, it’s not. I am unapologetically fascinated by her existence.
When he stops talking, I give him a polite nod and say, “I’ll be there.” Because if Opal is there, I’d like to speak to her again. I’d like to know what made her flush so prettily at that hockey game, and why that blush caused such a stir in me.
“Cool,” Atlas adds as Uriah comes up behind him, showing him a text message that makes him laugh. “Well, we need to go, we have a hungry omega to feed.”
A snort escapes me. “Trust me, as an omega who also gets grumpy before meals, I think that’s for the best.”
We say our goodbyes, and the meeting space starts to clear out. My pack mates finally walk up, and I lift my hand to casually knead the muscle in Sam’s shoulder. “Is everything good? Is there anything else you guys have to do before we leave?”
Like a sleeper agent suddenly waking, Sam’s emerald eyes widen. “Yes, actually. I have a few maintenance things to check.” He gives me a quick peck and walks further into the house, leaving me with Thatcher.
The smile on my face is automatic as I look at him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he misses overseeing a bunch of men and their decisions.”
The corner of Thatcher’s lips twitches, the closest to enthusiasm that I’ve ever been able to get out of him. His dark hair still looks wet from his shower earlier, and his muscles tense under his tight tee. His mint scent is subdued, but still noticeable considering the amount of alphas lingering nearby. The aroma has my omega calming before I can even stress over his nonresponse.
I only ogle him for a short moment before I let myself remember the sad truth: Thatcher may be my pack mate, but he is not my scent match.
We tried for months. We went on dates, hung out by ourselves, and tried to find things we had in common. We have a mutual love for historical classics, and we’re both a part of the queer community, but it’s been hard to get past that barrier. It’s no secret that I find him attractive, but there’s a wall there that I can’t seem to break down, and I don’t want to push him into something he just isn’t feeling.
I’m sure he’s already beating himself up about it, because if there is one thing I’ve learned about Thatcher from being his pack mate all these months, it’s that he is extremely sensitive and feels deeply. He wanted things to work out so badly, not just for me but for Sam, and when we couldn’t make it happen, he retreated into himself. I don’t think Sam even noticed that we stopped trying, and if he did, he hasn’t said anything about it. I’m not sure if he even would. From the outside, we probably look like a broken pack, and I think Sam feels ashamed of that.
But that’s a crock of shit, to be honest. I love our life. I love my pack. And I love my scent match. Being a part of this little misfit family has been the best time of my life so far, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. None of the flaws or scrapes along the way could change my feelings. I was always meant to be here with them, in this stupid fraternity, watching them be their most authentic selves.
Sam comes by a few moments later, saving me from the embarrassment of lingering in the silence with Thatcher for another second.
“So…” I start. “Dinner?”
