Page 34 of Begrudgingly Yours
I let out a laugh. “No ‘hello,’ no ‘how are you,’ just right to the point.”
Nicole groans. “Fine. Hi, how are you? What are you doing tonight?” she says in a bored and flat tone.
“I’m at my friends’ house. And no, they haven’t called me. Why, what’s up?”
She sighs, letting go of the pleasantries immediately as she goes into a rant. “I knew it. They keep calling me, and they each had the excuse of making sure you and I were coming home for Thanksgiving. As if I’d miss an opportunity to be back in the city.”
I smile. Nicole loves where our family currently lives in Manhattan. I miss when we used to live in a more suburban area, but the city is still wonderful, at least for visiting.
I’m surprised Nicole decided to come to Bensen of all places, especially when she was accepted by NYU. I’ve never asked her about it though, because she gets irritated when we talk about serious things. She takes after our mother in that way. Being vulnerable doesn’t come naturally for them.
“I’m guessing you told each of them that we are.”
“Of course,” she replies. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t get a single call from them. Why are they up my ass all the time?”
Isn’t that the question of the century?
I open my mouth to respond but am abruptly interrupted by a loud celebration happening in the other room. I distinctively hear Kendall hooting and hollering, which causes me to laugh.
Nicole clears her throat. “So, you’re at a friend’s house.”
“Yeah.”
It’s quiet for a moment before she asks, “Is Everett there?”
I pause. When I found out that my sister may like my best friend, I immediately thought that meant Everett liked herback. Especially because I had been oblivious to the entire thing. Now that I know it’s a one-sided infatuation, I feel obligated to comment on it.
“Cole, do you like Everett?” I ask bluntly.
I hear her scoff. “No, Dax.”
She’s acting coy, and I really don’t want to be a bearer of bad news, but I also don’t want my little sister to get her heart broken. “Good, because there’s like a ninety-nine point nine percent chance that he’s my pack mate, so it’s not possible for you to be his mate.”
“I’m not interested in your best friend,” she gripes. “I like someone in my Shakespeare class, though.”
I nod and let her change the subject. “I heard the casting got announced recently, did you get a part?” I ask tentatively.
“Lady Capulet,” she says without any enthusiasm.
I smile regardless. “That’s great, Nicole. She’s a complex character! You love complex characters.”
“I should have gotten Juliet but the girl who got cast only got it because she’s an omega.”
A burst of protectiveness surges from deep inside me as I think about Rory. I swallow down my alpha’s anger as I grit out, “You shouldn’t say that about your peers, Cole. It’s not professional.”
She huffs. “It’s not just my opinion. My professor admitted that was why he picked her when I asked how I could improve my future chances of landing the lead role.”
Now my alpha has his eyes set on the actions of their professor. He sounds like a real dick. “Still, that can’t be the only reason he chose her. She earned it, and you can’t take that away from her. Lady Capulet is still a great role. Hell, doesn’t that play only have a few female roles anyway?”
There’s silence again. I can tell she’s annoyed I didn’t co-sign her complaint, but I don’t know what else to say. Even ifshe was talking about someone other than Rory, it still wouldn’t be okay. Mother would be disappointed in her for undermining another artist. She always taught us that others in our field aren’t competition but friends who love the same things we do.
There’s more noise flowing in from the living room and I hear Thatcher’s baritone crystal clear as they walk through the front door. “Hey, more people just showed up so I’ll have to call you back. If our parents call you again about Thanksgiving, tell them to bother me about it instead.”
That rewards me with a tiny snicker. “Deal. Later.”
We hang up and I head back to my friends. When I walk in, I see Thatcher first. He’s huge, which makes him a wonderful defenseman. His brown hair is shorter than it was the other day, and he looks around with the same reserved expression he always has. When he sees me, he gives a gruff nod.
I turn my attention to his official pack mates. Sam’s shirt is undone by a few buttons, indicating that he’s officially in relax mode. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s on top of everything when it comes to our fraternity and his grades, and considering he’s a law student, that’s no small feat.
