Page 16 of The Bear, the Eagle, and their Wombat Omega (Omegas of Animals: SD #14)
Bruno
In a way, it felt odd to be just with Steve when Arkyn was available to be with us. When I’d had my date with Arkyn, Steve was busy with work, so that felt all right. But leaving our eagle in the suite all alone…
There were definitely going to be adjustments in being a threesome. Since I’d never even had a really serious relationship with one person, I felt underequipped to navigate our threesome, although I’d lay down my life for either of them.
As the suite door clicked closed behind us in that heavy bank-vault way hotel room doors always did, Steve took my hand. “Do you think he minds?”
“No.” I offered him a smile that probably held less confidence than I could wish for. “He is going to binge that reality show he was talking about, and he’s fine. But it feels weird, right? As if he should be with us. How did you feel when it was the two of you?”
“We missed you, and we talked about you some. Were your ears burning?”
I chuckled, and he went on. “But we had a good time together, too, and we’re going to be two of us alone together a lot over the years, I imagine.”
“That’s true.” I pushed the button to summon the elevator. “I guess I’m just learning how to be with both of you, and how to have a strong relationship, when really all I want to do is live in bed with you both.”
He giggled. “I don’t have enough money saved up to retire, do you?”
“No, and I’m sure our eagle doesn’t either. It’s a pretty picture, though, right?”
“In many ways.” We boarded the elevator and rode down a few floors, our destination the rooftop pickleball court on one of the other buildings of the hotel.
We were almost out of days for our trip, and I was determined to enjoy every minute of this time before we had to go back to work and figure out all the day-to-day details of our new relationship.
Steve exited the elevator and skip-hopped over to a booth where they handed out equipment to hotel guests. “Do you like pickleball?”
“I’ve never played,” I admitted. “But I did watch a celebrity tournament on TV a few years ago and it looked like fun.”
“It is. I’ve been playing for a few years, but I’m not good or anything. It’s just for fun.”
“Cool.” I could probably survive a little of it. “It looks like a combination of tennis and badminton to me or maybe racquetball?”
He gave me a side-eye. “Well, it’s its own thing. Let me explain it to you, super easy.” He rattled off a dozen or more rules and cocked his head to the side. “Got it?”
“Not in the slightest.” I winced. “But I hopefully will get it when we try. And it’s just the two of us anyway, so please be patient.”
“Of course.”
The attendant finished dealing with another couple and sent them off to the courts—if that was even what they called them in this game.
“I am starting to think you should have brought Arkyn on this date,” I muttered as Steve accepted two funny-looking paddles, balls, and some sort of score pad from the attendant. “Want me to go get him?”
“No way, you’ll do fine.”
“Your court is over there.” The attendant pointed to the right, and I followed his gesture to see a pair of people standing on one side of a net. “There are your opponents waiting for you now.”
“Opponents?” I turned to Steve. “Is this a team sport? I thought you said we were going to play thin something, just us?”
“Skinny singles, yes. We did reserve a court for that.”
The attendant checked his screen. “Oh yes, I see. But there was some sort of a mix-up, and there are no individual courts available. Do you still want to play?”
“Do we, alpha?”
He looked so disappointed, I had to say, “Of course. But you’re going to have to do most of the work.”
His sparkling eyes told me I’d made the right decision, and once we got onto the court, shook hands with our “opponents,” and the first ball bounced, I learned something new about our omega.
He was a pickleball shark. We won, which would have been less remarkable if he hadn’t had me for a partner.
I didn’t hit a single ball, and he was even able to overcome the results of my terrible serves.
And…make me feel like I had a great time and might one day be an acceptable pickleball player. When we turned in our paddles, the attendant congratulated Steve on his skill and me on choosing a great partner. What could I say? He was right.
“Now, what do you want to do?” I asked. “Are you hungry?”
“A little.” His rumbling stomach told me it was more than that. “You?”
“I could eat. Why don’t we walk down the block. I spotted a hot dog stand with a big line the other night.”
“You want to stand in line?” He frowned. “You like lines?”
“No, but it usually means the food is good or at least interesting. We can get some dogs for ourselves and take something back to our eagle.”
He thought that was a great idea, so we rode down to street level and walked out to the sidewalk arm in arm. It was a much nicer night down here than up on the pickleball level, but maybe that was because I was better at walking to a hot dog stand than playing a sport I knew almost nothing about.
“You were very patient,” I said as we got to the end of the line to order from the hot-dog-shaped building. “And it really was fun. Maybe you can coach me.”
“I’d love to do that,” he said, standing on tiptoe. “I can almost see the menu from here. Do you like sauerkraut?”
“Yes, but I generally just put mustard and relish on my hot dogs.” We discussed toppings and styles of dogs until we finally got to the front and placed our order, including a few different kinds for Arkyn.
We could have called him to ask what he’d like, but it was kind of late, and I didn’t want to wake him up.
After we finished our hot dogs, I picked up the to-go bag, put an arm over my omega’s shoulders, and we wandered back in the general direction of the hotel.
Another lovely evening in San Diego was coming to a close, and we were almost out of time here.
We’d have to make a decision about where to live, but for tonight?
The moon was huge and yellow, and I was with one of my fated mates on the way to reunite with the other.
Life was great.