It might be selfish of me, but I’m glad he didn’t choose to stay with his parental pack. I’ve loved working with him, and I can’t imagine our station without him.
The crowd around the Yule tree has cleared, and we’re one of the few groups left. Magnus releases my hand, and I awkwardly shuffle a few steps back after realizing I’m hovering, almost pressed against him.
“Do you want to get your picture taken in front of the tree?” Henri asks me.
“Yes, that’s a great idea! I’m not good at remembering to get pictures,” I say, already adjusting my hair.
I fluff it so the pink waves sit neatly over my scarf.
When I look up, Henri has his phone out, ready to take a picture. The others are next to him, leaving me alone in front of the tree.
“Wait, I thought we were going to take it together. Ourfirst team photo,” I say, struggling to keep a whine out of my voice.
“I thought you would want a picture of you to send to your friends and family,” Henri says.
“We can do one of me, but then we have to get a picture with all of us,” I say sternly.
Taking pictures is a good addition to the FWTTDBID list—preserving festive memories. So they better fall in line and do what I say.
They quickly agree, luckily for them.
I smile and Henri takes a few pictures of me before asking someone to get one with all of us.
The guys surround me, leaving me in the front since I’m the shortest (by far).
I paste a smile on my face as our photographer lifts the phone.
He snaps a few pictures, squints at the screen, and takes a few more.
I struggle not to fidget. Having them standing so close, looming over me, is making the back of my neck prickle even worse than when Cato stares at me.
My stomach is tingly and I feel myself getting wetter even with my special slick-wicking underwear.
Must be an omega instinct. If alphas are behind me, I should be prepared to get fucked, apparently.
The man is still taking photos, moving the phone around and changing settings, until,finally, he decides he’s taken enough.
“I think I got some good ones,” he says, handing it back to Henri.
“They look great. Thank you,” Henri says.
“Anytime, young man. I’m Gerald,” he introduces himself, and they shake hands. “Let me know wheneveryou need me to take more pictures of your handsome pack and lovely omega.”
“We’re not—we’re coworkers,” Henri stammers, but Gerald is already walking back to his family and doesn’t appear to hear.
“He’s almost right,” I say with a laugh, but I’m blushing just as much as he is.
Henri sends me the photos, and I swipe through them, admiring how festive and cheerful we look with the tree behind us.
I don’t know if it’s because Gerald put the thought in my head or if my omega is still feeling frisky, but it does kind of look like they’re my pack.
I was thinking about posting our picture on my seldom-used social media accounts, but after seeing it, I definitely can’t. People don’t always read captions, and I don’t want to wade through a bunch of comments congratulating me on finding a pack.
None of the guys comment on the photos besides saying they turned out well.
“Where to now? Do you want to visit the shops?” Charm asks.
“Sure,” I say.
