“I’m fine.” I talk loud enough so everyone can hear. “Just might get some ice.”
I get handed an ice pack and escorted back into the staff room.
“You’re going to have a right bruise,” Walsh says when he leans down to inspect. “Don’t look like nothing is broken. Not blood, at least. You get a good look at who did it?”
I barely stop myself from pulling a face full of incredulous disbelief before I remember I haven’t exactly had the chance to say who it was. But by the way they're all acting, I’d put money on violence being a regularity here.
“Just some lovely ladies,” I mumble, purposely avoiding answering.
It’s not like I’m going to waste my time going down to the local police station and reporting two skanks jumping me. For starters, they’ve got bigger issues than two chicks getting revenge, but more importantly, all it would do is eat into the little time I have left of my night. More so, keeping my mouth shut hopefully gives me another in with whoever is watching, telling them loud and clear that I’m no snitch.
“Well, that was fun.” I smile up at the people still milling around. “What time tomorrow?” I ask, turning towards Walsh.
My question has the crowd dispersing, though it coincides with a roar from the front room, which generally happens when someone scores a goal or does something worthwhile on the pitch.
Walsh is the first to leave, talking over his shoulder. I have to look at the kitchen hand who came out the back door before for clarification.
“He said ten, but if you don’t feel good, call in sick.”
“I’ll be fine.”
I keep the ice pack with me while I grab my bags. Before I leave, I poke my head back into the kitchen. “Hey, thank you. I’m glad you came out when you did.”
His eyes are on my cheek, right where I’m holding the ice pack. I lift it off, and he grimaces at the sight.
I should go home and sleep, except for the fact it would be a waste of time even trying. I’ve got way too much energy I need to burn off.
The looks I get when I stop at a all night convenience store for a banana and a small juice booster, and as I walk down the street, make my swollen cheek feel like a mountain on my face.
It all adds to the frustration swamping my system. My feet seem to track where we’re going before I even know. It’s instinctual that I end up at the gym. Using the toggle, I enter, and all the automatic lights blink on. It’s odd the gym is currently empty. It’s not really that late, but it’s at that odd time after dinner but before midnight on a Saturday. I’m sure other people are doing normal things like socializing, going to movies, but here I am.
Changing quickly into some unflattering workout gear, I bundle my hair up and mix up the protein powder I had in my bottle, ready for my next workout. Setting it down after giving it an almighty shake, I force myself to peer at my reflection in the mirror. It sucks knowing the reason I’m now looking like I lost a fight is because I did lose a fight, and that only happened because I was sloppy.
The sting of defeat is good for my soul, though. The humiliation of losing a girl fight will add another layer of determination to my workout. I’ve been slacking recently, and that stops now.
Swinging open the door, I walk face-first into something that wasn’t there before. A someone, actually.
I squeal when my face gets smooshed up against a hard chest. Sharp pain explodes and radiates all the way down my neck, bringing tears to my eyes.
A very fucking nice-smelling chest, mind you.
And it’s one of those scents, like the pain swirling around me, that hits sharp and fast, making it near impossible to ignore. Like, when we physically collide, the impact of inhaling his scent tingles through my blood. It dances in my cells. Overly dramatic, but exactly how nature intended because you’re meant to take notice.
I take another breath, no longer in as much pain but still thrown. Because of him.
Scent match, beats through my thoughts with the increasing race of my pulse.
Another sniff, and his soft lemon scent crystallizes into something more memorable—lemon verbena.
The Hollywood theatrics don’t stop. There’s a symphony of sound and light becoming impossible to ignore. My biology is forcing me to not disregard the moment. A clarity blossoms with sporadic flutters squeezing my chest—this Beta is my match.
“Hey.” His voice is as smooth as I thought it would be.
In the space of a millisecond, my Omega has been busy getting lost in how he’s going to look, how his voice will sound, how he’s going to treat her right forever and eternity.
I must look crazy, because the other thing that becomes blatantly obvious is that he doesn’t recognize me. He’s not curling in on himself as his DNA twists and changes like mine just did. Unless he’s a better actor than I am.
I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. It’s every Omega’s dream to find their match, but it’s not something I’ve ever considered. I watched both the women in my family be destroyed by the actions of those they loved. In the aftermath, I chose to focus on me, putting everything into my career. Andthen I saw firsthand the callous nature of both men and women, all designations included, as they chose themselves time and time again. Murders done to keep someone quiet, money taken so the thief can keep it all. Deceit and dishonesty everywhere I turned. I made choices not based on what I wanted but what I didn’t want.
