Page 5 of Sweet Heat

You will not make a scene.

Turning, I reach out for Emma and Mari, who have dutifully followed me into exile.

“You can both stay! Go back and watch the opening pitch from the good seats. It’s only me that needs to be swaddled in bubble wrap.” They gather around me, snuggling in for a three-way hug, nearly breaking through my wall of emotions. A needy whine crawls up my throat, and I bite my lip to keep it inside.

Any nearby Alphas will come flying out of the woodwork if I give into my omega. But the love of my friends fills a bit of the void—the need for love that’s more than just family. It isn’t remotely sexual, but the comfort soothes me just enough.

“Forget it, babes.” Emma squeezes me tight enough that I let go of the resentment threatening to eat me alive. “We can go up to the box or head to my apartment. You know I’m only here for the man candy, and there’s plenty of that on campus.”

“Yeah. I’m happy either way, too. We all know I don’t give a crap about baseball,” Mari agrees like the sweetheart she is.

And the truth is, they both really don’t care. We come to the games because it’s something to do, but I’m the only one who’s invested in the score or what’s happening on the field.

Chewing on my lip, I mull over the options for a second before realizing that the game’s already ruined. I’m just not feeling it anymore. My finger flicks toward the door, and we make our way out of the stadium and onto the busy street. Cars whizz by, filled with rushing people, and the sounds of the city buzz in my veins. We don’t live in the city, but whenever we come in for games, I love the vibe—getting lost in the hustle and bustle of people who don’t give a shit about anyone else.

We make our way to the parking garage. Once I’m settled in Emma’s backseat, I pull out my phone and shoot a quick text to my parents. By now, I’m sure Owen’s tattled on me, and I don’t want them to be worried.

Me

Owen was being a jerk. Decided to leave the game, so we’re heading back to Emma’s.

The replies fly in almost instantly, and I can feel their disapproval through the screen. It’s like nails on a chalkboard, raking against me until I nearly scream with frustration.

Papa

Okay, sweetie, text us when you’re there safely. Do you want me to come pick you up later?

Me

I’ll call an omega rideshare.

Dad

He was just looking out for you. I can’t believe you sat in the stands again. It’s not safe. I’m going to get rid of those tickets.

Me

It should be safe. It’syourstadium.

Mom

I want to see that you’re all right with my own eyes. Come home now.

Me

I’m fine. I’ll be home tomorrow.

Dad

No later than curfew, Posie.

Mom

Curfew!

And Papa just adds thumbs-up to their messages.

When will they see me as an adult?

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