“Survival essential,” I toasted. He clicked his glass with mine.
“And you’re funny. Which makes me look funny by merit of being in your company. It’s perfect,” he said. “Come on. I’ll make it worth your while. It’s been too long since I’ve even gotten a number,” he pleaded.
I turned from the bar with my cider in hand and took a drink, shaking my head. I wouldn’t be his wingwoman; it was a ridiculous idea.
I found Cole instantly. She had her arm over the top of the booth she sat at and behind the shoulders of a new woman at the table. She was blonde, hair up and perfectly messy, dark eye makeup, tight bralette, turned toward Cole, her hand with perfectly manicured nails on Cole’s arm.
Cole glanced up and met my eyes before turning her attention back to the blonde.
I turned back to Darren.
“I’m guessing if you want me to be your wingwoman, you’re not interested in any alphas?” I asked.
“I’m not that elevated; don’t think my ego could handle it,” he admitted a little too freely.
I laughed.
“Do you feel like it’s easier speaking to me because I’m an omega?” I asked him.
“I think that has something to do with it, yeah. That’s fucked up; I’m sorry,” he apologised.
“Don’t worry about it. I get it. Same for me,” I told him.
“The Goddess wanted us to be friends,” he said, and I tilted my head. Was he religious? “I’m just saying, it seems a little like fate that we’d be so similar and so different.”
“It does seem a little fatey,” I agreed. I hadn’t spoken so easily and freely with anyone in years.
“Okay, so how do you want to do this?” I asked.
He turned to face the room with me.
“About two o’clock,” he said. I turned slightly, hating how my eyes caught Cole and the woman. I took another drink until I saw who he wanted me to see. A group of four, early twenties, excitable; I could hear their laughter from the bar.
“Straight into the fire?” I asked.
“I like the burn,” he joked and finished his pint, setting it on the bar behind him.
“A masochist,” I said.
“Who doesn’t like a spanking?” he joked and stepped away from the bar.
I downed what was left of my cider, leaving the bottle on the bar, and followed him.
“So how do we open this?” he asked as we slowly made our way across the bar, dodging drinks, bodies, and chairs.
I could see that they were standing in front of a karaoke machine that had been set up for later.
“I don’t know, this is my first time wingwomaning,” I said, a little flustered.
“We have to say something to start a conversation; we can’t just stand and stare at them,” he replied.
I laughed as I pictured the absurd situation if we did.
“Ask if they’ve chosen a song yet or something,” I said.
“What?” he asked.
“They’re standing in front of the karaoke. We need to know if it’s even worth your time. If they’re interested in answering, wekeep the conversation going,” I said, pulling myself together to come up with a plan.
