Page 9 of Bonding the Band

Was it possible?

No.

Absolutely not.

I shook myself lightly before stalking forward.

The last thing I needed was a pregnancy test. What I needed was Funyuns.

I returned to the chip aisle, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of my head.

Hendrix was the only one I’d been with in ages. The rock star who had a plethora of women at his beck and call.

The rock star I had bonded.

It had been a few years since my omega health classes, but I remembered that newly bonded omegas tended to stick to their alphas’ sides like glue. Maybe that was why I’d been feeling so terrible?

Hendrix had spent the last few weeks gallivanting around Asia, and I was doing relatively okay.

Imayhave checked the tour stops once or twice in moments of needy, sex-deprived desperation before giving myself a mental slap.

He was the last thing I needed, no matter how delicious he smelled or how many orgasms he’d given me. Being tied to an alpha like that would be a nightmare. A homebody omega wouldn’t suit his lifestyle at all. If he ever bonded with someone, it would need to be an omega who craved adventure, loved to travel and party.

That most certainly wasn’t me.

I wasn’t going to pursue him, and even if I did, I wasn’t going to change my entire personality to suit his career. Hendrix wouldn’t want me for more than a night. That random beta inthe bed had already proven that. I growled, picking up a bag of M&Ms and tossing them into the basket with way more force than necessary.

The bite mark on my neck hadn’t faded, and I had taken to covering it up with high necklines or scarves to avoid the questioning looks. At least we were heading into winter so people didn’t notice or care if I bundled up a bit.

As I placed the Funyuns in my basket, that nagging voice in the back of my head grew louder and louder.

With a huff, I stomped back to the family planning aisle, grabbed the box, and quickly threw it in my basket, trying to avoid people seeing.

I was only doing it to prove I was right—there was no possible way I was pregnant.

At least, I was fairly certain.

There had been that incident the week prior when I had walked past my favorite hot dog cart on campus, and the chili cheese dogs, which usually smelled like heaven to me, made me want to hurl into the nearest trash can. I had chalked it up to the flu.

But what flu lasted weeks?

The second I was home, before I even put the ice cream in the freezer, I grabbed the blue box and dashed to the bathroom. I didn’t bother reading the instructions; it was pretty self-explanatory.Pee on the test. Test tells you if you’re pregnant.

I had grabbed a digital test, so the answer would be clear. After washing my hands, I laid it on the counter, took a deep breath, and ran a hand through my hair.

I couldn’t be a mother. There was no way; I was just being overdramatic. Soon, I would be laughing at my momentary panic leading me to buy a pregnancy test.

While I waited, I kept myself busy, leaving the bathroom and putting my treats away. Clover would know something was wrong if she saw ice cream melting on the counter. My hands shook as I slotted everything into the fridge and freezer, so I tore into the Doritos to soothe myself. Nothing like the taste of artificial cheese and spices to calm down a panic.

Our freezer was packed to the brim with desserts—that was what happened when two omegas roomed together. We had a penchant for sweets and weren’t shy about it.

Crouching down, I started rearranging the bottom drawer to make space for my ice cream and tried not to think about the beautiful blond alpha who might or might not have ruined my life. I guess it was more Schrödinger’s life ruining, until I saw the test results. Taking out several boxes of Clover’s frozen macarons and moving them around, I contemplated stealing a few to make room. She’d eaten my frozen churros last week, so it was only fair. All was fair in love and desserts in this dorm.

“Meadow Marie Reed! Are you pregnant?!” a familiar voice called from the doorway. My stomach plummeted, and I whipped the chip bag onto the counter so I didn’t spill it. Clover stood in the bathroom doorway, wearing her pink pajamas covered in cartoon puppies, with her hair piled into a messy bun on the top of her head, and holding the pregnancy test in her hand. “Hey! Are you pilfering my macarons again?”

I hadn’t thought about her getting up in the middle of the night—Clover usually slept like the dead. She could sleep through earthquakes, for god’s sake!

“Am I?” I asked breathlessly, my voice wavering. “I haven’t looked at the test yet.”

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