Page 7 of Pack Me Up
Tommy jumps in, practically vibrating. “We can do it, Britt. You saw the demo numbers! People really like us, and with Oli headlining, nobody’s going to care if we mess up, right?”
He gives me a look, all reassurance and frantic hope. He slips his hand over mine, his grip gentle but stubbornly present. I’m not sure if he’s steadying me or anchoring himself, but I squeeze back because I don’t know what else to do.
Riley adds, “I’ll handle the logistics. You’ll never be alone unless you want to be.”
She speaks in short, neat sentences, the kind that slice through panic and leave order in their wake.
I try to picture not just the stage and the lights, but the long miles in between, waking up every day in a new place with thesame people to share it with. It sounds…safe, almost, which is the exact opposite of what I should expect.
Tommy leans his head against my shoulder, in that way he does when he wants to be let in. “If we don’t do it, someone else will, and they’ll probably suck. Come on, Britt. We need to be the ones with them, we’re a family.”
I want to say yes. It’s right there, the syllable almost tumbling out, but I can’t shake the memories of my past.
A waiter appears at the edge of the table, oblivious to the drama. He’s young, trying hard to be invisible but failing, eyes flickering to Oli’s face. He sets down a tray of four new waters, checks if we need anything else, and, when everyone responds, melts back into the stream of silent servers.
The momentary intrusion leaves a pocket of stillness, a hush that feels like the whole room is watching me. I look at Tommy. He nods, eyes round and shining. I look at Riley, who gives a tiny, encouraging smile. Then focus on Oli, she’s waiting, patient but unyielding.
I decide to take the jump and find my voice.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll do it. We’ll do it. As a family.”
Tommy’s whoop is loud enough to turn heads. He grabs me in a one-armed hug, nearly knocking over his drink. “Yes! I knew it. You’re the best. Oh my god, Britt, this is going to be so good!”
Oli lifts her glass, not even trying to hide her smugness. “To the next big things,” she says, and her smile is like a sunrise starting the next phase of my future.
Riley raises hers in perfect unison, and for a second the whole table glows with something I haven’t felt in a long time: possibility.
Tommy toasts so hard his water sloshes onto the table, and I laugh, like really laugh, not the nervous kind. It’s sharp and wild and maybe a little bit erratic, but it feels like the start of something instead of the end.
Oli leans back, satisfied. “You’re not going to regret this, Brittney. I promise.”
They start talking dates, gear, and press photos.
Riley leans in close and whispers, “If you ever need a break or a way out, just text me. I’ll handle the rest.”
I nod.
For the first time since I ran, I wonder if I could actually belong somewhere that isn’t just a hiding place. If I could ever want to be seen, and not just disappear.
Brittney
ALPHA TEA GOSSIP COLUMN
CAN TWO OMEGAS REALLY BE TRUSTED TO PERFORM TOGETHER WITHOUT ALPHA SUPERVISION?
April 11th
The guitar fits awkwardly in the crook of my arm, like my uncertainty is manifesting physically.
My blinds are half-closed, casting the apartment into stripes. Thin, bright light cuts across the floor, my knees, and the long row of instruments against the wall that Oli left behind.
When we got back from tour, Oli let me move into her old apartment from before she met her mates, since the building had good security.
Practice, I remind myself, and push my thumb to the back of the neck, pressing strings to wood until they bite, but the song won’t come right. I’m supposed to be learning something new for the tour, but every time I try, my fingers slide out of place, like I’m stuck in a groove that won’t release me.
I pluck a G, then a C, then try for the chorus again. My left shoulder hitches up, the tension pulling me off-balance. Out of habit, I tap my foot for the tempo, my bare skin on the cold floor, letting the rhythm force my body into the present.
Except I can never stay in the present for long.
