I thought about dropping it off at his house, but what if he doesn’t check his mailbox for days? If I tape it to his locker, he won’t be able to miss it when they get back from their game.
There’s a few hours before they get home, and considering that no one else should be there, I don’t put much effort into my appearance.
I’m too fucking stressed to look cute.
Instead, I’m wearing sweatpants, a crewneck that has so much piling it should be tossed out, and my favorite pair of sneakers.
When I have to defrost my windshield, I contemplate every moment of my life, but somehow my anxiety lets me persevere.
It’s like I’m on autopilot the entire drive. But my shaky legs make me walk the distance to the locker room as I place the white envelope with his name on the front where he can’t miss it.
I stare at his name in my script, wondering if this really is a good idea or if I’m making something worse.
But before I can snatch it back, I hear male voices coming down the tunnel to the locker room.
Fuck.
I thought they were supposed to get back at three?
No way I can confront him now, and Max will be with them. I don’t have any deodorizers on.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I glance around and open the door to where the ice baths are and shut it behind me.
I take a seat in one of the swivel chairs and lean against the wall by the door. If anyone looked through the glass, they wouldn’t be able to see me.
I bite my nail, hating the way my stomach feels like it’s going to fall out of my ass. The need to throw up is just on the brink as I lean forward and rest my head on my knees.
This feeling of not knowing what’s going to happen and if I’m going to hurt someone I care about makes me want to disappear.
Why can’t they just get along? Why did my scent match have to be the person Bram dislikes the most?
Not that I’m upset about it being Max, which only makes me feel even more guilty.
I like Max; I think he’s handsome and kind. He’s been a great friend while I haven’t. He might not really be experienced with Omegas or understanding pack life. But deep down, I know that he would try, and he’s a good man.
How can two things be so true at once?
I want Max but also wish things weren’t so complicated.
The door creaks open, and when I glance over, it’s a wide-eyed Max Connery staring down at me.
He shuts the door behind him and looks at me like it’s the first time he’s actually ever seen me.
“Your scent. You’re…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. He comes over and grabs me under his arms and clutches me to his chest.
“No fucking way,” he mumbles against my hair.
He isn’t masking his scent either. The fresh crispness floods my nose, and it’s like all the anxiety and fear from earlier disappears.
My scent match wants me.
Max is holding me like I’m some precious miracle, and my body can’t help but respond to how he makes me feel. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he shifts his hands so that he’s gripping me by my thighs.
He pulls back ever so slightly, his pretty blue eyes meeting mine.
