Page 28 of Zoinks! Nice Pack, Bro

What I don’t do is change out of the black hoodie I’m wearing or put pants on. Which I grow to regret ten seconds later when there is a knock at my door and the manic panic goes into overdrive.

What are the signs of a heart attack again?

I pull it open and Cameron stands there, his hands in his dark jeans pockets looking around behind me before landing back on me. It looks like he was checking for threats and now that he doesn’t see one he knows I’m the risk here.

One eyebrow raises and at that moment I realize that I am pant-less.

“Go away.” His lips tweak up in a smile and instead of following my directions he steps forward, shouldering into my studio that already feels too small without his big body crowding it.

What did he eat growing up to be this massive?

The way his eyes blow out as he takes in a breath of my scent which I am sure is overpowering my apartment. Even if I wear scent blockers at work there is no hiding the way that I smell here.

His scent blooms as it hits him.

The scent of oranges is so sweet and juicy making my nose itch, as the mellowness of his rosemary earthy and strong tries to even it out.

God, why does he have to smell so damn good?

The candle flickers as he turns looking at me, leaning against my kitchen counter like he has been here a thousand times before. And, frick me, does Cameron look good?

It’s unfair and instantly makes me feel self conscious because it’s stupid how attractive he is.

He’s covered in tattoos from his fingers to where they’re peaking out at the top of his hoodie. Even his legs have tattoos because the rip in his jeans show off more ink there. His stupid porn mustache should be off putting but the idiot looks good with it. Dark chocolate hair under a hat that of course he had on backwards because nothing completes a look like a guy in a backwards hat.

Slick pools in my panties and I really, really, really hate being an omega right now.

But it is the double nose ring that is the icing on the very hot cake in front of me that makes me actually let out a whine that I had been trying to swallow down for days.

His eyebrow raises and his fists clenched as he wills himself not to come near me because he probably can smell the way my apartment reeks of my sadness.

“Do all you bozos do steroids? It’s like an advertisement for Gold’s Gym looking at you. It makes me want to eat ice cream, real bad.” I wish I had ice cream in my freezer.

At the idea of offering him something I freeze, close enough now that I can smell him even more and the way the cold night air clings to his skin.

I can smell the wind on him. Whipping in every direction, cold and free. Mixed with the sharpness of his scent. Of course he smells great. It’s completely unfair.

The whine comes out again and I really, really wish that I had put on pants.

“Why did you cancel?” he ignores my comments, looking at me with such an intense gaze I move away from him. My eyes go to my fridge where I can just rummage around inside of it without thinking.

Maybe I’ll find a drink to offer him.

Can he smell my slick?

That’s an embarrassing thought. The answer is probably yes which makes me want to crawl into my bed and hide. At least I’m a broken omega so my slick isn’t dripping down my thighs.

Win for the broken omega.

I’ll just ignore him until he takes the hint and leaves.

My fridge has a few seltzer waters, a sad looking cantaloupe that I bought with good intentions, and a lot of space that I’m calling potential right now.

If I frame this right I can say I’m trying the minimalist trend instead of decorating my fridge like all those people do on TikTok.

Grocery shopping is a Saturday job. But Saturday is also a good day to be a blanket burrito and spend the day dozing in bed between books.

Blanket burritos were as close to a nest as I got because nests scared me. Something my therapist was trying to work with me on because she thought having a nest might be good for me. Giving me a place where I can relax and just be an omega.

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