She didn’t say much after that, nor did she even tell me good luck before I left for the Omega Garden. A part of me wondered if she already knew I’d come back with no matches, no offers, and if she was already formulating a plan to find me a pack.
I went to the Omega Garden that night pretty pissed off. Let’s just say it helped keep most alphas away from me. Most alphas didn’t want a moody omega—if we’re moody before our heat, how bad would we be during it? We might just be too much to handle, or so the stereotype went.
Whatever. It didn’t matter. The last thing I wanted from any of these matching ceremonies at the Omega Garden was a match with an alpha.
The mixer that night went as well as I expected, of course. I had it down to a science. How to act, what to say, everything to make the alphas there suddenly become disinterested in me. Looking back, I think it went well—according to my goals, that is.
Well, except… except maybe not with that one alpha. For some reason, that one alpha refused to take the hint. I don’t even remember his name. It was a weird one, I remember that much. The alpha had to have been an über, and the way he kept staring at me while he sat across from me made me think I must’ve smelled good to him or something.
What was his name? R-something. Remus? Robert? No, neither of those.
Eh, doesn’t matter now. I’m never going to see that alpha again.
I walk through the park, keeping my head down. Though it’s pretty empty, you never know. My luck has been good lately, and all that means is I’m due for a bout of crappy luck.
Just not today. Please, don’t let my luck turn shitty today.
I’m meeting the alpha who agreed to help me in the center of the park, near the pond, at one of the benches. When I decided on asking him for help, I did a bit of stalking on his social media. Before that, I honestly hadn’t seen the alpha in years.
He, uh, grew up looking good, let’s just say that.
Asher Thompson. His parents had him and his older brother genetically tested too, so even before they presented as alphas, everyone knew what they’d be. It’s funny; when we were kids, you couldn’t tell who was going to be what. Kids were either mean or nice, and Asher was one of the nice ones. We were in the same grade at school. He was always a good one.
I hope he’s still one of the good ones, but considering we went no-contact after my accident, he might not be. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.
My feet take me along the stone path around the pond. The sun is out overhead, shining down upon me, its light reflecting on the calm water’s surface. I adjust the bags over my shoulders, not used to lugging shit around like this.
The bench in question comes into sight, and I slow my pace, spotting someone sitting on it. Though said bench is still a good fifty feet away, I know it’s him. I know it’s Asher. My breath catches in the back of my throat, and my tongue dries up.
I won’t say I’m nervous, but… well, yeah, Iamnervous. In order for this to work, everything has to be perfect. Years ago, before the accident, if you would’ve asked me whether or not I could count on Asher to help me in my time of need, I would’ve said yes with no hesitation whatsoever.
Now, we’re strangers. He doesn’t owe me anything. I need to remember that.
I gather up what courage I need and resume my fast pace, making it to the bench in what must be record time. I gingerly sit down beside him, leaving a good foot and a half between us as I set my bags down between my feet on the ground.
The alpha looks at me, studying me like he isn’t sure who I am. Walking up to him, I got an eyeful beneath my sunglasses. He’s definitely Asher Thompson. The short blonde hair. The green eyes. The easy dimples that appear on his cheeks when he smiles.
Yeah. I might’ve stalked his online profiles too much. The only important things are: he’s not currently in a pack, so I’m not dragging him away from any omega, and he agreed to help me. He’ll take me up to his family’s cabin in the mountains and come get me when it’s all said and done.
“Jess?” he asks quietly, those green eyes of his staring hard at me.
I meet that stare by turning my face toward him and lowering my sunglasses just a bit, so he can see my eyes. “Yeah. It’s me, Asher. I know it’s been a while, but I don’t look that different, do I?” I mean it as a joke; it’s been so many years since we’ve seen each other, we’ve both done some growing up, but he seems to take the question seriously.
“You do,” he says. “I don’t smell you.”
I could say the same thing to him, but I don’t. It’s something I was instructed never to tell anyone, mostly because smell is such a huge part of attraction for omegas, a giant part of making a match. Without it, I’m broken. Damaged.
“Scent-blocking cream,” I say.
“Oh. That makes sense.” He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck. “How, uh, how are you?” He stumbles over his words a bit as he leans forward on the bench. He wears a light jacket overhis polo shirt, clean, fresh pants on his long legs. At a glance, he looks like he has money. Hopefully that won’t come to bite us in the ass while we’re on our way to the cabin.
An unmatched omega wouldn’t be caught dead on a road trip with an alpha that isn’t hers, especially an omega of my stature. Talk about taboo.
I’m not really in the mood for small talk, but I figure I’ll have to suck it up since he’s helping me. I do manage to say, “Why don’t we talk in the car on the way? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
He seems to remember this isn’t just him bumping into me randomly, that this meeting is for a specific reason, because he quickly says, “Right. You’re right. We should get going.” I stand and go for the bags between my feet, but he stops me and says, “I got ‘em.” Like he’s some sort of gentleman or something.
Hmm. Who am I to stop him from carrying my bags if that’s what he wants to do? I know he’s no gentleman—a gentleman would never have cut ties with me after such a traumatic event, but I need to remind myself that it doesn’t matter. All that matters is right now and that he’s helping me.
