Page 51 of Royal Omega

Chapter Twenty-two - Henry

We have another datetoday, this time with an omega called Mary. The producers inform us that we’re going to play a game of croquet together on the lawn. It’s sunny and warm outside — not always a given for San Francisco — and I find myself in good spirits as the date begins.

Unfortunately, Mary does not seem interested in us at all. She has a floral scent that scratches my nose, and she doesn’t meet my eyes once. I don’t think she’s trying to be rude; she’s just painfully shy, which makes it difficult to communicate with her.

I try jokes, flirtation, and even leaving her alone, but nothing seems to bring her out of her shell. Ransom tries a few times before giving up. Conrad doesn’t say a word to any of us through the whole date, even when the producers prompt him.

By the time the date is over, I’m exhausted with the awkwardness of it all.

We eat lunch together in the suite, during which Seth makes it clear we should be discussing our rose ceremony strategy. “Make sure it’s clear who you’re talking about, if you would,” he says. He spreads photographs of all the omegas out on the table.

“So we have three options for each,” Ransom says.

Seth nods. “Pink for maybe, black for no, red for yes. Remember, though, if you pick red, that’s considered a final commitment.”

“Well I’m sure we’re not ready for that,” Conrad snorts.

Ransom and I look at each other for a moment, but neither of us replies.

I pick up the picture of Mary. “I hate to say it, but I would vote black rose for Mary. She just didn’t click with us.”

“I agree,” Ransom says.

“Me too,” says Conrad.

“Ok so that’s one,” I say, sounding far too cheerful. “What about Randy?”

“We haven’t had a date with him yet,” Conrad says. “I think we need to make it a pink one.”

“Agreed,” Ransom says.

“Same for Julia,” I interject. “But Cindy’s a black rose from me.”

Conrad raises his eyebrows. “I disagree with that. I think the black roses should go to Mary and Carissa.”

And there it is. He has said it out loud, and it can’t be taken back. I sigh and sit back in my seat. We’re about to have the biggest fight in our pack’s history, and all of us know it.

***

HOURS LATER, THE THREEof us walk down the stairs to the main floor, which is decorated for the rose ceremony. We’re all dressed to the nines, as are the other packs waiting on their marks. We stand a strong contrast with the producers and other personnel moving around behind the cameras, all wearing black jeans and tee-shirts.

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