Page 80 of Stolen Omega

Zoey was an Omega, like me.

He was meant to be her Alpha.

He promised he’d protect her.

He wasn’t there when she needed him and that hurt him badly.

There’s nothing I can do to make him feel better about that.

So, I walk away. It stings, but there’s nothing more I can do.

I head home and hide the vodka in my room when I realize I left it in the kitchen. Then I reheat some of my mom’s awful pasta bake, covering it in hot sauce to make it edible.

Cherise calls when I’m halfway through my spicy dinner, telling me I have a half hour to get my skinny ass over to her place because she’s freaking out over realizing her prom dress is less than perfect.

I eat a few more bites of my meal before I leave, putting the leftovers in the fridge for my inevitable hangover in the morning.

She has a Pina Colada waiting for me when I get to her insane mansion.

I sip at the cold cocktail while I follow her up the winding staircase to her plush bedroom.

“So, I asked Maria to take up the hem, but she did something weird to the straps and now it looks like shit,” Cherise tells me, letting out a dramatic sigh. “I swear to God, I need a seamstress who speaks proper English.”

I wince at her entitled little rich girl comment, but I make sure I’m smiling when she looks back at me. “This is a seriously good Pina Colada.”

“I know, right? Emilio is the best.”

Emilio is her personal chef who also used to be a bartender.

I don’t think he’s supposed to mix alcoholic drinks for underage kids as part of his job, but considering how vicious Cherise can be, I’m pretty sure he does it to keep the peace.

“The best,” I echo, making her smile.

“Oh, and your tux looks amazing,” she goes on as she reaches the landing.

“I’m sure it does.” There’s no way in hell I could have afforded to rent one, let alone buy one.

“It has pink detailing to match my dress,” she admits.

“Won’t that make it look like I’m your date?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at her.

She shrugs. “Well, you kind of are. In a way. Max is so boring. He probably won’t even dance with me. You know how much he hates the thought of sweating.”

“Happy to be your dance partner.” At least I’ll have a little fun at this dumb party that way.

Though I’m pretty sure I’ll be ditched as a spare part before the end of the night when everyone is coupling up and preparing to disappear to a motel or a bedroom at an afterparty.

Being single when your friends aren’t kind of sucks.

Going into Cherise’s bedroom, I relax on the edge of her bed. Silky sheets and a super comfortable mattress. Now this is a bed. I let out a soft sigh, then I suck up the last of the icy drink through the straw and give myself the start of brain-freeze.

“Damn,” I mutter.

“You drank that way too fast,” she chides me.

“I did,” I agree.

She shakes her head. “What are we going to do with you?”

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