Page 53 of Pack Baines

He shakes his head, clamming up suddenly.

I sigh. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”

Munro snorts humorlessly, and nods. “You’re telling me.”

We’re quiet for a long moment after that, content to sit in silence. Until I’m not so content, and I blurt, “What is it about Silver?”

Munro turns his head toward me, eyebrows pinched and a funny smirk on his face. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” I push, my curiosity caught.

Huffing a laugh that seems less humorous and more disgusted, he informs, “That girl is loaded. Pretty little pampered omega was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, pardon the pun. So, she’s out flouncing around, enjoying her life without struggles, and my pack is struggling to find somewhere to live before we find ourselves homeless in three months. It’s infuriating.”

A heavy silence hangs between us, and I bite my lip with an echo of anxiety and understanding. I know how that feels, worrying about having a place to stay. I’ve struggled enough in the last eight years, jumping from place to place, not always having enough money to put a roof over my head. Knowing Munro and his pack are facing a similar fate sets my teeth on edge.

The rest of our classes go by without much chitchat, my mind running a mile a minute. I can barely scrape enough attention to skate through my lectures, and by the time lunch time rolls around, I have a stress headache behind my eyes and I’m tits-deep in worry for a pack I don’t even know.

“Alright, that’s it. I’m done with the silence, and I’m pretty sure you’re going to wrinkle between your brows if you keep frowning like that,” Munro drawls, smudging his thumb between my eyebrows before snatching a tray from the stands and nudging me toward the food stalls. “What are we having today? Pasta or burgers?”

“Both,” I murmur, lifting my hand to bite at my thumbnail.

Munro gives me an exasperated look, but he goes about gathering our plates like a miserable gentleman and carries them to a table that already seats three other dudes. They’re all handsome, one with hair as dark as midnight that reaches his chin in light waves and honey-colored eyes that sparkle the moment we reach the table, while the other two look almost identical with hair the same shade as coffee with a dollop of cream, and eyes as deep a blue as the ocean.

“Shove over, nerd,” Munro demands the pretty boy with black hair, the sugary scent of frosted plums wafting indicating that the nerd in question is a fellow omega.

The guy slides over, grinning at the thundercloud beside me, and says, “A please every now and then wouldn’t go amiss, Ro.”

“Fuck off,please,” Munro quips with a smartass grin that has the omega laughing.

Munro sits opposite the omega, and jerks his head to the now empty seat, and says, “Sit down and quit biting your nail off, for fuck’s sake. Stop worrying about it, J. I didn’t tell you so you could stress out about it on our behalf.”

Rolling my eyes, I accept the food and grump, “I’ll do what I want, so how about you shut up?”

Munro grins and relaxes significantly, content now that I’m sassing him back instead of worrying about his living situation. Not that I stopped worrying, but maybe I can talk to the guys and see what we can do, if there’s anything to be done.

“Oh, I like this one,” the pretty boy beside me laughs, turning to face me with a pizza held in his hand. “And what do we call you?”

Snorting, I hold my hand out for him to shake and offer him my name. “Juno. The Female Munro. The Coolest Person In The World. You?”

“Aero. Omega. Tech wizard. Game Guru,” he rattles off quickly with a matching energy I like, shaking my hand with a cheerful grin that could rival Evron’s. Sadly for this guy, I prefer my flirty alpha over him and his buddies. They’re all beautiful, but theyhave nothing on my guys. Not even their scents offer any kind of appeal to me, the sugary, frosted-plum mixing with rhubarb and wild mint that I assume come from the twins seated opposite one another on either side of Munro and Aero.

“Cool. I’m not calling you anything but Aero, though, sorry to disappoint,” I snicker, removing my hand from his with the intent on getting stuck into my food while I try to think of solutions for Munro and his pack.

“He has nicknames, but it’s none of those. You won’t be disappointing anyone,” one of the twins snorts, ignoring the affronted look the omega sends him, reaching a hand out to me to shake and he nods to the guy opposite him. “I’m Haze. My brother, Rage, right there.”

“Juno. Nice to meet you,” I shake his hand, and Rage’s, despite his reluctance. Once I have my hand back, I reach for my fork and stare at the pasta and burger like a starved woman, only to steal a fry from Munro’s plate before taking a bite of my own food. Then I gesture to Munro to help himself to my pasta, stealing another fry while he stabs his fork into the overfull bowl of bolognese pasta. With another shovel of food in my mouth, I sigh gratefully now that I’ve inhaled carbs.

It takes a moment for me to realize the table has fallen silent, and I eye the others as they stare. Mouth full and painfully unladylike, I blurt, “What? Do I have sauce on my face?”

Aero shakes his head, face painted in shock. “I’m just shocked your hands are still attached to your arms.”

“Huh?” I practically grunt like a damned animal, noting that I should probably find my manners before they think I’m a total slob. This is why making friends is hard. I am a slob, for food anyway, and pretending otherwise is a ball ache.

“Munro never shares food. Ever,” Rage explains, eyeing his friend like he’s lost his mind.

Shrugging a shoulder, I say, “Honestly, same. Unless it’s my pack, and apparently, this walking bad mood, I won’t let anyone touch my plate.”

“Why do I get special treatment?” Munro questions curiously, taking more of my pasta.

---