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TWENTY-SEVEN

Playing: Everything I Wanted by Billie Eilish

I welcome the weekend with open arms as I sprawl out on my bed after classes, feeling utterly exhausted by my Friday schedule that conveniently has no writing classes. Nope, it’s all just common core stuff that I need to complete before next year, which I definitely dreaded today.

I find it endearing that he finds the time to see me even with our busy schedules. He always has a coffee and my favorite breakfast sandwich from the local eatery, which always leaves me in a much better mood than I normally am that early.

The texts from the guys are much more frequent and I enjoy seeing them banter in the group chat.

It makes me feel like I’m a part of something really special, which is wild to me because sometimes it doesn’t even feel like it’s me experiencing it.

Sometimes it feels like I’m reading a romance book about a heroine that just happens to look and sound like me .

I smile to myself in my bedroom like a lovesick fool when my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. Once I fish it out and look at the screen, I suddenly wish I hadn’t.

The groan that leaves me when I see my mother’s caller ID could probably be heard from Mars.

Knowing that I’ll have to hear from her sooner or later, I reluctantly bring the phone to my ear.

“Hello, Mother.”

“Stacia,” she begins, her tone curt. “It’s been a while. How are your studies?”

I go through the motions of telling her about my classes and grades, leaving out anything and everything in my social life. She’s not exactly someone I can talk to about it.

“Good. I’m glad your grades are up and you’re doing well. Although I don’t know why you wanted to bother with school at all, considering omegas are tended to hand and foot by any alpha they turn their eye to.”

I clench my jaw, then relax it after giving a deep breath.

My parents are both betas, and they’ve always been a bit too comfortable spouting what they think of the other two designations.

They don’t even hate one over the other.

They just believe their own designation is the most reasonable of the three.

“Not all omegas settle down, Mom. Some get jobs and live very happy lives all on their own.” I decide not to repeat—for the millionth time—that neither alphas or omegas are complete slaves to their biology. She wouldn’t hear it anyway.

“Still, it seems like a waste of time. But you’re planning to write silly romance books, so it’s not like you’re wasting too much time.”

I feel my body start the numbing process before her words even finish. I always feel myself stepping away when I’m talking to my parents. It feels impossible to ever have a civil conversation with either one of them.

I reacted this way for a long time before I started to become aware of it. It took even longer to realize that it was always happening around my parents. It seemed to be the only way to handle speaking to them.

I think about the past few weeks with my scent matches, getting to know them while being authentically myself. It’s been a whirlwind of confusing emotions. I’m not sure why, but it almost feels like a trap.

I don’t think I know how to recognize when something is good.

“Stacia, are you there?”

I blink, realizing I must have zoned out while she continued ranting at me.

“Yes, I am.” I swallow. “I think I have some stuff I need to do around the house today, can I call you back?”

My mother gives an annoyed sigh. “Yes, I guess that’s fine. Please call soon, there are things to discuss.”

She hangs up without saying goodbye or those three special words that other children normally get to hear. Like every time before, I pretend like it doesn’t hurt.

Like it’s not unbearable .

I remember the cold indifference between me and my parents early on.

Nannies taking care of me, but never getting too close because my parents were particular about professionalism.

I ate by myself until dinner. I wasn’t allowed to go outside unless it was for horseback lessons or practicing tennis. I fucking hated both of those things.

I can’t remember the first time they started spouting designation prejudice at me. All I know is that it takes up a huge space in their life. I don’t know who my parents are without their bias. All I know is that it always left a bad taste in my mouth so—after a while—I just stopped listening.

When I designated as an omega, they reacted worse than I thought.

Nasty, vile comments were thrown my way for days.

I was only sixteen, and felt like I wasn’t allowed to be excited about this new thing in my life.

The part of me that every human waits to discover.

It was tainted by their hate, and I’ve never been able to move past it.

Because maybe it really was my fault. Maybe I didn’t try to be a beta enough. Maybe my indifference towards it caused this path to appear for me.

I shake my head. That’s not true. No matter how much I try to rationalize the way my parents are, there’s never a proper reason. It always comes back to ignorance, bitterness.

They’re miserable in their mansion, so they want everyone to feel that way, too.

Derek, on the other hand, is a bit more difficult.

My parents have never tried to hide who they are.

They’re a couple of sharks, while he’s a snake.

His commitment to getting in my good graces is borderline impressive.

I wonder how long he’d been waiting to finally shed his skin and stick his teeth into my neck.

A shiver rolls over me. Ewh. I don’t even want to imagine that.

Before I let the thought cause a spiral, there’s a knock on my bedroom door. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, willing my emotion to calm before I let my best friend into the room.

I call out to her. “Give me a minute, Rory. I’m changing.” But the voice that echoes back isn’t her usual alto.

“I’ve seen it all before, doe. But if you insist.”

My eyes widen as I hop up and scurry to the door and swing it open. On the other side is Ciro, looking as punk and disheveled as ever, his hands full of stuff.

“What are you doing here?” I ask in sincere shock as a grin appears and betrays me.

“Well, I know the guys are out of town for a game but that doesn’t mean we can completely abandon our courting duties.”

I raise an eyebrow. He raises his own in response before he gives me a cheeky smile. “You don’t know what day it is. Lucky me. Now, may I enter your room, Omega?”

I preen at the respect he has for my space before I move to the side and invite him in. It’s only now that he’s walking by me that I realize he has a whole cake pan in his palm and bags hanging from his wrist.

“Is it some important holiday or something?” I ask.

Ciro chuckles under his breath. “Damn, Stacia. You’re the romance author, how can you forget about Valentine’s Day?”

What?

It can’t be Valentine’s Day already… that means my birthday is only a few weeks away.

I check my calendar on my phone and funnily enough, it is the fourteenth.

“Wow.” I look back at my beta and see all of his gifts and trinkets with new eyes. “Please don’t tell me all of that is for me. I didn’t get you guys anything, I feel fucking awful.”

“Oh, shush.” Ciro places everything down on my bed before he presents the cake pan to me. “It’s store bought, much to Kendall’s dismay, but it’ll have to do. Expect a better one on your birthday.”

I pull my lips into a line. Do they know it’s soon?

“This is really too much, you guys didn’t have to?—”

Ciro put up a finger to me. “Let us spoil you, doe. You know those alphas, it’s their love language to spoil their omega. As for me, I just love to see you happy. Now, will you please open mine first?”

He presents a neatly wrapped gift, the blue paper covered in little white hearts. I smile at it, unwrapping it slowly. Too slowly if Ciro’s impatient watching is anything to go off of. When I finally get the paper peeled off and open up the box, I gasp at the prizes waiting for me.

It’s a new writing organization kit, with a journal, plot agenda, and all the pens and tabs I could want. I open up the agenda, noticing the detail that helps one outline their story. I hug it to my chest and look at the beautiful beta beside me. “This is beautiful, Ciro.”

He returns my affection. “I’m glad, Stacia. Happy Valentine’s Day. We’re very lucky to have you in our lives.” I feel a blush starting to spread from his words before he thrust another gift in my hands. “I’ll have to document each reaction mentally for the boys, so let’s go through them.”

The others got me wonderful gifts as well.

A Special Edition of a book I finished and loved last week, an amazing self-care kit, a new fluffy white blanket with a mix of their scents purposely placed on it.

That one made me flush with a little bit of shame, but then I found a paper with a QR code that took me to a personalized playlist just for me, courtesy of a particular grumpy alpha.

One after the other, I can’t believe the way in which these guys just… understand me. It makes me feel so lucky. And also really guilty.

“I have to go get you guys something, I can’t believe I forgot.” I turn to put the gifts neatly on my dresser.

“Instead of that, how about you let us take you out for your birthday in a few weeks?”

I halt abruptly, my back to him. Damnit , I knew it was wishful thinking.

“I should have known you were hinting at it, not just fishing for information.” I heave a small sigh before turning to him. “How did you know?”

He gives me a kind look. “You have a best friend that loves you, and she obviously approves of us because she actually told the guys when she ran into them on campus.”

Freaking Rory .

“Look,” I start, “I’m not very good with birthdays. I wouldn’t say I’ve had shitty ones, but I’m just a bit uncomfortable with the… expectation of it all.”

My explanation doesn’t seem to deter the beta across from me. He stands and walks towards me, softly caressing my shoulders and arms after he comes to a stop in front of me.

“Do you trust us?” His eyes pour into mine, and I find myself lost in the topaz of his pupils.

The truth? Yes . I trust them completely and without any doubt.

That’s the real scary part of this. Finding my scent matches, leaving behind a toxic cycle, that’s nothing…

but I’m still the same. The problem isn’t how perfect and attentive these men are, the problem lies solely with me , who I am, and who I will always be .

Still, I can’t lie to that ridiculously handsome face. “Yes. Of course I do.”

His face lights up and he sighs with affection. “Good. We’ll make your birthday a good one. I promise.”

And of course, I believe him. The question is, why don’t I want a good birthday? It just feels like I keep getting more and more things that I don’t deserve, and at what cost?