Page 113 of Pack Rivals, Part One

"Sorry," I say, the image of Connor fading from my mind. I twist my face around to peer at Courtney. "Anyway, how about you? How was your night out? Any luck with that dude from men's wear?"

"I don't know.” She chews on her thumb. "Sometimes he looks at me and I'm positive he's straight and wants me. Then other times I catch him glancing at Pete from Arts and Crafts."

"Maybe he's bisexual."

"Or maybe I'm deluded and he's not interested."

"Well, have you talked to him yet?"

She nibbles on her nail. "Nooooo."

"Urgh," I reach for a pillow and drop it on her head. "You are all talk and no action, woman."

"I know. I'm very good at handing out advice, doesn't mean I follow it myself."

I laugh and kiss her cheek and we talk some more, Courtney dishing out all the gossip on her colleagues and me telling her the story of Melody at the dance.

"Seems like you have some competition," she says.

"I get the impression that all the omegas want Pack York and Pack Boston."

"You get the impression?" Courtney laughs. "There's no doubt about it. They do. Everyone in the city does, Bea. Yet, you're the one they both want."

It's what everyone keeps telling me.

But a part of me, deep down in my gut, is finding it hard to believe.

24

Hardy

As instructed,I'm outside the omega's apartment block at 10am. It's Saturday and that's the time she wants to run. It's baking outside, the sun blazing down on the sidewalk, but if it's what she wants, so be it. I've come armed with several bottles of water though and I'm going to insist she run in the shade.

That's if she ever answers the damn buzzer. I lean on it a second time. Has she slept in? Perhaps after that party last night she has a thumping headache. Angel delighted in telling us how he'd seduced her behind the curtain, but then she'd left early. With Axel York. Is that where she is? His bed?

I press the buzzer one more time, then snap out my phone and call her.

"Hello?" she says sleepily.

"Bea," I say, "where are you?"

"Where am I?" I hear her roll over, the springs of a mattress creaking. So she is in bed. Her own or someone else's?

My jaw tightens.

"Yes, where are you?" I say. "I'm outside your apartment block ready for our run."

"Oh crap," she says. "Oh, Hardy. I completely forgot."

My stomach plunges. She forgot about me.

"Right," I say stiffly. "I'm guessing you're not at home then?"

"No, I'm not."

I swallow down a sickly bitter taste in my mouth.

I didn't think we'd lose this time. I thought we'd win this girl. I thought we'd make her ours.

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