Page 134 of Altius
Wonderful. Attractive, thoughtful, kissable, and stronger than he gave himself credit for.
“I don’t want to talk about him,” I said, nuzzling Tenny’s shoulder as I stood up.
“Fine by me,” Jacobi said, trailing after me toward the door. “I was just wondering when you plan to make your next boyfriend acquisition.”
“The only potential acquisition I’m worried about,” I said, heading into my bedroom, “probably has asbestos and a sewer issue and—”
“Sewer issue?” Wyatt asked. He stood beside the bed, tucking more snacks into my carry-on bag. “Need me to take care of it?”
“Joaquin’s got more experience,” Cal said, sitting against the headboard, answering emails on his laptop.
When had they arrived, and how much of my conversation with Jacobi had they overheard?
“Okay,” Wyatt said, pulling out his phone. “Where’s the problem—guest bath, powder room?”
I hurried over, holding Tenny to my chest, catching Wyatt just before he pressed the call button. “Everything’s fine. Jacobi’s interested in a new building, that’s all.”
“Oh, really?” Wyatt slid his phone back into the pocket of his shorts and resumed loading granola bars and fruit leather into my carry-on. “That’s cool.”
“Yes, I’m very excited.” Jacobi gave a perfunctory wave goodnight and turned on his heel. “But not as excited as I am about the extra-wide bed arriving on Thursday.”
I whipped around in shock, nearly dropping Tenny as I did so. “What?”
“Kelsey approved the purchase.” He blew a kiss over his shoulder and kept walking. “And now you three can practice safe, memory-foam-supported sex with room to spare. I happily accept your gratitude in advance!”
Tenny squirmed out of my arms, trailing Jacobi back to the living room, no doubt planning to beg for treats.
Rubbing my aching temples, I closed my eyes and ignored the curious gazes of Cal and Wyatt.
My best friend was right. Things were changing. Quicker than I was comfortable with. Disrupting my long-standing routines and shaking the foundations of my emotional fortifications.
I just had to focus on what was in front of me—and stop Wyatt from tucking a box of raisins into my extra pair of tennis shoes.
***
Alijah slipped past the flight attendant, heading for the back of the football team’s chartered plane.
I had the last row to myself and decided to take advantage of the space during our seven-hour flight to San Diego, surrounding myself with pheromone emission printouts and other interesting pieces of data.
“Save me,” he said, draping himself across the seatback with a weary pout. “My head’s about to explode.”
Football administration assigned our seats by designation: alphas up front, betas in the middle, and omegas in the back. A perfect microcosm of our respective societal treatment.
We don’t want our darling alpha athletes to get a muscle spasm after cramming into coach, now do we?
And us omegas, we take up so much less space with our smaller bodies and dainty presences. Right?
Assholes.
But I didn’t mind. Being with the other omegas meant I was surrounded by quiet types.
On the other side of the aisle, Landon was conked out while Amir was reading what must be his third volume of manga, bopping his head to the music playing through his earbuds.
Meanwhile, betas, like poor Alijah, had been forced to act as human sound dampeners.
“Is Tyler still wound up?” I asked, clearing the seat beside me.
“Yes,” he grumbled. “And Garvey’s only making it worse.”
