If I don’t find something soon, I’m going to have to fulfill my end of the deal I stupidly made with my mother.
I know I sound like an ungrateful brat. I have a place to live, food to eat, and no bills to pay, when I could be back in Nashville, homeless and starving. Iamthankful that my mother allowed me to come back home.
I just don’t like her conditions. Okay, fine, maybe Ishouldfind a pack. I’m twenty-five. Most Omegas are packed up by now.
I want Alphas, I do, but I want to find them organically. Not by shacking up with whoever my mother thinks would be a good fit. I can tell you right now, they wouldn’t be.
I highly doubt the kind of people she associates herself with would want an Omega like me.
I’m not the kind of Omega who would stand by your side, smiling and nodding like a trophy wife.
It’s not only my style that stands out, but my personality too. I love to talk. I curse like a sailor. I laugh too loud. I joke too much. And I’m sarcastic as hell. I’m hyper, bright, and bubbly.
Everything about me would cause me to stand out. I don’t mind having attention on me, though, I’m used to it. Not that I crave it, it’s just how it is. I’m aware that walking out of the house in the kinds of clothes that I wear draws attention.
Gaining the attention of the rich and powerful isn’t something I want. I don’t need their snooty looks and harsh whispers.
Maybe I’m overthinking things and judging people before giving anyone a real chance. Maybe it’s because while I want a pack, the pack I want isn’t an option. It isn’t one that I can just go out and meet.
So for now, I’ll go on whatever dates my mother sets me up on. I’ll play her game long enough to save the money I need to get out on my own and do things my way, at my speed.
And who knows? Maybe, just maybe, I’ll find a good pack. Good Alphas who will be perfect for me.
I’m never one to write things off completely.
That's partly why I’ve been holding on to these stupid little crushes I have on three guys whose faces I’ve never seen.
For all I know, they could be weird, creepy old men living in their mothers' basements.
With their deep, rich voices, they don’t sound like old men, though.
“Ugh.” I throw myself back onto my bed, grabbing my stuffed bunny. She’s pink and fluffy and soft to touch. She’s a security blanket of sorts. Something I’ve had for years that has helped me through all the hard times. “What do I do, FooFoo?” I stroke my fingers through her soft fur. “How can it be this hard to find a job?”
Mom called from Paris last night and said she will be back from her work trip next week.
Maybe if I can get a job by then, and show her that I’m trying, then maybe she might let me stay and hold off on the whole ‘finding a pack’ thing.
Probably not, but miracles are possible, right? With my mother, it’s not something I’d hold my breath on.
I send Cae a text, asking her how she’s doing and letting her know how I am. I haven’t told her that I’ve moved, I’m still kind of embarrassed about it.
If she knew what was really going on, she’d feel bad, guilty, that she left me behind to struggle, and it’s not a problem to worry herself with.
This is on me.
I feel like I’m toeing the line between being a grown-up and still feeling like a sheltered kid.
I moved away, lived on my own, and went to college. I’ve done the late-night study sessions and the never-ending hours of school work. I’ve lived the life of a college student.
What I didn’t prepare for was what came after, when I was thrust out into the real world.
Maybe my mother is right. I wasted years in school and now have nothing to show for it. I’ve always told myself I had time, that I’m young. Why commit to something for the rest of my life?
Now I’m starting to see how important it is to have a plan in life.
After taking a shower, I head to my computer, put my headset on, and log intoTwisted Valley.
My heart kicks into overdrive, a nervous flutter taking over my belly when I see that all three of my guys are online.
