“Your face?” I ask in bewilderment. Aren’t dogs like... dirty? Don’t they eat their own poop?
“Just my cheek, I swear!” Silas says, pointing to his cheek.
Otis then takes this moment to lick the back of my hand, and I swear, when my eyes meet his sweet brown ones, I nearly melt.
“See, he’s just so loving,” Silas argues as he chuckles. “Okay, next, Havoc, you go.”
Havoc shifts in his seat, staring at his drink as he thinks. He smiles slightly as he looks up at us. “Never have I ever crafted for 8 hours straight.”
I smile as I bring my strawberry daiquiri to my lips. The cool, robust flavor mixed with the sting of alcohol calm my nerves.
“Wait, what craft do you do?” I ask Havoc as he takes a sip of his drink.
His eyes trail to the shed beside us, and I look at the blue metal-like walls.
“I do a few things; I’m into clay right now.”
“Clay? Like pottery?”
“Like clay sculptures. I make only molds right now. Nothing special.”
“Uh, no, it’s extraordinary. You have to show me sometime.” I am itching to see his creative side. Havoc isn’t your standard stereotypical arts man; well, actually, he gives craftsman a bit. Heavy on the man, masculine part.
“Okay, your turn, Noa,” Throne reminds me. I flush under pressure. Running a hand through my hair, I try to think of something, anything, but my nerves cloud my mind.
“Um.” The word wobbles on my tongue as I meet each of their eyes. As much as I was trying to think of something to say, I couldn’t think of a single thing I'd done that I could say in this game. It’s as if I’m standing in front of 20 people who hate me, and I force myself to take a deep breath. Inhaling their scents, I let my shoulders drop.
“It’s okay if you don’t have one.” I almost take the out that Silas offers me, but I shake my head. I want to be normal. To participate. I can do this.
I press my hands to the sides of my head, catching my ears between my longer fingernails as Otis’s slobber wets my tights.
“Never have I ever … never have I ever been on a huge shopping spree!” I shout in haste. They burst out laughing, each laugh carrying a distinct note that makes me laugh a bit as well.
It’s then remembered that I’m supposed to say something I have done.
They all drink and eye me expectantly. I blush, as if my blush has gone away all night.
“I messed up the game,” I muttered, staring into my drink in embarrassment.
“You’ve never been on a shopping spree? Not even when your business took off?” Silas asks, his eyes wide in shock.
“Nope,” I say. “Okay, someone else, go already.”
“Is it something you want to do?” Havoc asks, setting his drink down.
“Um, I’ll get to it sometime,” I say, nodding and hoping they get on with the next question. I’ve been saving my dream shopping spree for when I can build a permanent nest.
A nest I won’t have to move when my lease is up, or leave if the Fallon Pack finds me. Somewhere I can call home. Call mine.
Thorne goes, and we continue playing the game until our drinks are gone. One by one, our drinks disappear, and we sit under the tree lights looking up at the dark sky.
I sigh, knowing I really should get home, but I don’twant to. Every cell in my body is urging me to stay. My omega whines, begging me to stay right where I am, but I know I can’t.
I’m not even supposed to be here.
I don’t deserve a Pack like theirs. Not with the trouble lurking behind me.
And yet I’m too selfish to stay away.
