Popping in my earbuds, which were already pulsing with a playlist, I flipped open the laptop and pulled up class notes. I’d changed my major twice already. Probably because, at the core, college was just a distraction. I’d been happy living the rock star life, exploring my sexuality with every combo of primary and secondary gender one could imagine. I’d absolutely pushed the boundaries of fantasy with this gender-fluid hottie just a few weeks ago. Yet, it was all just turning a little...stale.
More than stale. Tiresome.Not as fucking satisfying as it used to be? Hell, if I knew.
My head kept banging too. Headache after headache. I remembered a while back, shit, maybe fifteen months now? It was before the hotel disaster in Paradise. Dixon kept complaining about headaches. Blamed it on drinking though. Ryder and Mac kept quiet, though I’d clocked them popping pain pills more often than normal for different stretches of time over the last year.
Restlessly, I drummed on the study table. I needed to review last lecture’s crap. The professor was a dick and really loved to give pop quizzes right at the start. Technology was advanced enough that he could populate the test on our individual accounts and monitor browsing for cheaters. He threatened a lot, saying no open book policy, but the asshat couldn’t monitor written notes. Which was exactly why I’d meant to print my notes out, and I’d completely forgotten.
Before I realized what I was doing, I was slamming out a Deep Purple drum solo.
A firm hand gripped my shoulder just as I was about to bring it home. I startled, popping out an earbud and looking at whoever the hell was touching me. When our eyes locked, she pulled her hand away and crossed her arms.
“Young man, I have warned you three times. This is a library, not Woodslick.” Her sharp eyes bore into me, cat-eye eyeglasses riding the end of her nose.
“Woodslick would be sick to play.” I grinned up at her. “Also, didn’t hear you.” I jerked a nod at the earbud pinched between two fingers.
“Be that as it may, if you cannot control yourself, you need to leave. You are disturbing our rule abiding patrons.” She scolded before turning and clicking away on scuffed, brown kitten heels.
“Buzzkill,” I breathed out, replacing the earbud and quickly getting distracted again by an epic Zeppelin track. Knowing I was moments from being banned from the library, I gathered my shit and stuffed it into my sling bag before strolling out towards fresh air and non-academic freedom.As I passed the librarian’s desk, I blew her a kiss. The strict, old bird scowled.
My mom kept telling me I was too old to keep acting so young.“Your shenanigans are going to get you in trouble someday, Tray. You’ve got to grow up.”It was the same old speech every video call. But, fuck, age was just a mindset. The minute I admit ‘I’m old as hell’, then I’m going to be old as hell. No turning back. I decided a long time ago to just enjoy life and never give two shits what someone else thinks I should be doing.
I mean, maybe there was one thing I wanted to do that was directly tied to getting older...
Find my damn mate.
I still wasn’t sure about Ryder’s whole ‘one Omega for us all’ hang-up. Sounded like some shit from a book. Lord of the Heat. One Omega to rule them all. Yet... they were deceived! The goddamn chances of one perfect match were like statistically negligible. Catalina was looking for a solution. If anyone was going to find the answer, she would. That Beta babe was a damn magician sometimes. She’d managed to spin horrible stories about us so expertly that we’d come out looking like saints once she was finished. Cat never recognized bad publicity. She said publicity was exposure. And we could twist exposure any way we wanted. She might give us an earful every time we fucked up, but she always fixed the problem.
I jogged down the palatial steps of the mall-sized public library, swinging a left once I was on the landing. Pushing my hand into my pocket, I grabbed my face mask, threading the elastics over my ears without dislodging my earbuds. I was supposed to wear it while out all the time, but the damn thing was suffocating. Heading to my favorite coffee shop though, I needed the cover. I’d had a not-so-great ‘date’ with a barista there. He’d wanted more than he communicated. I was in it to win it, for one night only.
Two blocks away from the library, I pushed into the busy cafe and got in line. I didn’t see the guy at first, but my luck took a shit when the dude pushed out of the back prep area into view just as I got up to order.
Pitching my voice unnaturally deep, I ordered my usual. Large mocha,line the cup with caramel, top with marshmallow fluff and add copious amounts of graham cracker crumble before finishing the masterpiece with sea salt. The result was a liquid s’more. I hated camping, but I’d go glamping for this damn drink.
If I’d been truly intelligent, like I wanted to claim, I’d have realized that ordering my trademark drink while the guy was in earshot was asking to get caught. I tried to recover by given the name Mac. Also stupid, considering Todd knew I was part of Oblivion Haze.
“I’ll make it,” Todd grumbled, snagging the cup before the poor girl taking my order could finish writing my name.
“Hey, you don’t have to snatch it like that,” she snapped, then turned to me. “Sorry, he’s been in a bad mood lately. And he’s the owner’s kid.” She shrugged and gave me a ‘what can you do’ expression.
“No problem.” I paid, already expecting the latte to be hot trash by the time 'Wants Too Much' Todd was done with it. I lingered at the pick-up counter, watching Todd mangle what should have been a straight-forward, albeit fancy, order. The dude was aggressively pumping caramel, like the bottle had personally offended him. When he slammed my drink down, some of it sloshed over the rim. He didn’t even bother to top it, let alone offer an insulating cardboard sleeve. The cashier noticed.
“Come on, Todd. I get you’re the golden boy here, but your dad will literally go out of business if you treat customers like crap all the time.” She moved over, picking up the drink and smiling at me apologetically. “I’ll remake it. Extra, extra graham topping this time.”
“That would be great, thanks.” I gave her an appreciative return grin, then, reluctantly, locked eyes with Todd.
"Tray," he said, eyes narrowing on my mask. "I'd recognize those eyes anywhere even without the complicated stupid order.”
Cover doubly blown.shit.
“Probably should have gone for something uptight like a Brazilian drip no frills or a couple Full City espresso shots over ice,” I mumbled, keeping the mask in place. His face pinked. I’d used his typical drinks as my pretentious examples. We’d met for coffee before what should have been a fantastic one-night fuck.
He placed his palmsflat on the counter, leaning over to invade my personal space. I refused to back off. Todd was a bit younger than me, an Alpha set to take over daddy’s many businesses by thirty, but he spent more time partying than working out. I liked to party as much as anyone, but I also took my physique seriously. It’s why I was a fair match for even our Dixon. Each member of Oblivion Haze mixed well, our chemistries complimentary. Otherwise, the band would never have thrived.
‘Wants Too Much’ Todd had on the same braided leather bracelet from our encounter, given to him by his last romantic partner. Damn, I’d learned far too much about him, and all of it against my will. His body noxiously perfumed the air. My nose crinkled at the memory of how the dude had smelled after orgasming. Like goddamn rotten eggs.
Finding an Alpha that you jived with—body, mind, and soul—was no different than an Omega bond. I mean, current law prohibited Alphas partnering, but that didn’t stop people. Legally, we could have side partners galore, as long as our main sexual partnering could produce pups. There used to be some hard and fast regulations on monogamy—big packs existed, but they were comprised of bonded pairs raising pups in a compound lifestyle—until affluent packs began exploring multiple Omegas and swing dynamics. Now, monogamous pairs were becoming the exception instead of the rule. All it ever took was one rich big-wig with a wide reach to set the mood, and the laws followed. Think it was the Astors and the Vanderbilts back in the twenties that really set the stage. But Alpha-Alpha? Probably would never get the green light. My mind flashed to Dixon. I remembered how he used to be so unwilling to voice what he really wanted and face what he truly enjoyed in the bedroom. Guy loved anal sex. And, though I think he still had some internal reservations, he and I had sort of found our groove. It was the deepest level of bromance. Though, if it were up to me? I’d ask for more from Dixon. Maybe someday he'd be ready.
“Why won’t you return my texts?” Todd snapped his fingers in my face. By his expression, and the overwhelming scent clouding around him, he must have been trying to get my attention for a hot minute.
