Page 9 of Knot Their Starlet

I take a deep breath and draw from that well of courage, imagining all the fans who are maybe watching this live or who will watch it when it’s clipped for social media later.

“Wow,” I say, clearing my throat. “I never thought I’d be here. It feels like yesterday when I was waiting tables at the local diner in my tiny town and posting covers on YouTube. Thank you to my label for taking a chance on me. Thank you to my management⁠—”

My eyes drift to Eli, whose gaze is locked onto me.

“I’d never be here without you.”

There’s a part of me that says the words directly to him, despite the room full of people.

“And to any male omegas out there,” I continue, “this is for you. Anything is possible. Dream big.”

The trophy trembles in my hand ever so slightly as I hold it up.

The walk back to my table feels surreal. Like I’m floating.

The cameras aren’t on me anymore; they’ve already started moving onto the next award, but I’m still terribly anxious.

“To Beckham!” Everett says with a proud smile, lifting ‌a flute of champagne for a toast.

I go through the motions of lifting my glass, pouring two-thirds of it right down my throat. Probably a bad idea because it feels like molten lead in my stomach. Actually, scratch that. Definitely a bad idea.

“I’ve gotta go to the bathroom,” I mumble, not really caring who hears me.

“You good?” Leo asks, tilting his head.

“Fine.” My nod is jerky as I push myself up from my seat.

Eli moves at the same time.

“You going with him, Elijah?” Everett asks, raising his brow.

“Yeah,” Eli nods gruffly.

Part of me wants to protest, to tell him he can stay here and continue watching the award ceremony.

The other part wants to tuck myself into his side and breathe his blood orange scent in until this godforsaken headache goes away.

Fuck that other part of me.

That’s my inner omega talking, and he’s stupid.

And needy.

So fucking needy.

I settle on staying silent as I walk towards the back of the room. Eli follows on my heels, never more than a step behind me.

Following me, of all people.

I’m holding him back. I know it deep in my core.

I wonder what life would be like if I hadn’t presented as an omega a couple years ago? Most male omegas seem to be late bloomers, but still. It was so unexpected.

“You doing okay?” Eli murmurs as the door shuts behind us.

I continue along the hallway, not bothering to put an answer to words because I know I’ll probably fall apart.

My steps falter when I catch sight of a crowd of people. With cameras pointed right at me.