Page 10 of My Begrudging Scent Matches

Alice told Lily she had to work the rest of the day remotely after lunch before fleeing the building like it was on fire. The Slack message came as soon as she got to the bus, wrapped sandwiches yet uneaten, but stuffed in her bag.

Caleb Everett

Can we talk?

Then another a few minutes later.

Caleb Everett

Where did you go?

Alice steadies herself for a moment, staring down at her cell phone before typing something out, deleting it twice, then finally hitting send.

Alice Walton

Was feeling sick. Working from home the rest of the day! Send an email if you need something.

There. That should send a clear enough message: she doesn’t want to see him nor talk to him about whatever did, or did not, just transpire. Preferably ever again, but the rest of the day will have to do.

The ellipses indicating he’s typing appear and disappear and Alice pretends not to be watching it like a hawk.

Caleb Everett

Can I see you? I can go to you.

There’s something in her chest that tightens at the message, a giant fist squeezing her sternum, but she shakes herself and gulps down what’s left of the sparkling water. She can’t be humoring this, it’s impossible. They’re impossible. It would be in everyone’s best interest to pretend it never happened.

Everything she’s been doing: the suppressants, removing herself from her family, fighting every instinct, and staying away from all Alphas was to prevent this. Yes, she’s an Omega, but why does that have to mean she’s seen and treated differently than everyone else?

She doesn’t know exactly what she wants yet. It’s sure as hell not working at Labyrinth Solutions under Logan for the rest of her life, but she wants something different than what her mother had—being swept up into a pack so young and raising a million children.

She wants to take her time and fall in love slowly and not have her Omega hormones dictating everything she does or how everyone looks at her.

But, God, a scent match? Scent compatibility is one thing, but a true match is rare, the kind of thing someone doesn’t expect to happen to them or any Omega or Alpha they know in their lifetime.

Alice runs her hands down her face and neck, which is hotter than it should be. She wants to think maybe it’s a fluke, but she can still smell him, his scent lingers on her skin like a curse.

“Shit.” Alice switches to her calendar app and cancels her meetings for the rest of the day, trying not to breathe in the smell that is all around her, on her clothes, in her hair, on her tongue.

It’s forty degrees outside, but as soon as she gets home, she turns off her heater and flings open every window, then lights four candles. Their conflicting artificial smells clash into something horrible, but it will do the trick. Or at least she hopes it will.

No shower is cold enough to cool what she’s feeling, her body is buzzing—there’s dread pooled in her chest. She stands under the icy spray anyway until her teeth are chattering. She tries not to think about dark brown eyes boring right into her and the smell of Christmas.

Wrapped in two towels, trying not to cry, Alice calls the only person who could possibly understand: her sister.

She answers on the second ring, all official, “This is Olivia.”

Alice cries on the spot, her older sister’s voice immediately comforting. “I think I met my scent match,” she says, her voice wobbling.

“Give me five seconds.” There’s muttering through the line like Olivia is talking to someone with the phone pressed to her chest, then what sounds like a door clicking shut. “What did you just say?”

“I think I found my scent match.” Alice’s voice cracks at the last words.

“You think?”

“I know,” Alice confirms. As much as she wishes otherwise, there’s no way what she felt, what she knew without logic, wasn’t real. “I scented this guy and I can’t describe how I know other than I just. . .”

“Are you crying? Why are you crying?”

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