Page 15 of Puck Your Friend

“Thanks. Hopefully there’s Alphas worth it running today for you guys to enjoy.” It just feels strange being nice, but I’m not going to be mean if they aren’t.

Personally, I don’t get why they want to ogle Alphas. Unless they think they’re going to be Omegas or something. As far as I know, there’s no Omegas in this camp. Only Betas and Alphas.

I step outside and jog to the other side of camp where they have the built in obstacle course that runs through the woods.

Campers shout from the edge where the field ends, and the trail disappears intothe trees.

I’ve been wanting to do this since I was twelve and now it’s time.

I step up to the counselor at the check-in table. He barely glances up. “Name.”

“Francesca Darian.”

He jots something on his form as he checks off my name and then fastens a green wrist band to my right wrist. “Keep this on you. It tells us what year you are and that you can be on the course.” He then reaches under the table and pulls out a numbered tag. “You’re 43. Pin it to your left hip. Do you want us to take your bag?”

I take the safety pin from the pile and turn away to fix it, then hand him my bag.

He takes a sticker label and writes F. Darian, 43 on it, and sticks it to the side of the bag.

He nods. “You can pick it up at the gear tent when you’re done.”

“Thank you.” I head toward the start zone. Keeping an eye out for the guys.

They’re already there, shirtless and wearing gym shorts. The sun catches along their shoulders, the lines of muscle more defined than I remember from yesterday.

The top of my abs show just over the band of my shorts. I worked hard to get them this last year, doing a body recomp to get as much muscle definition as I could, and put on some weight. I roll the waistband down slightly, revealing more skin and the curve of my navel.Might as well show them off.

Jace sees me first, his black curls stick out on top of his head. He waves, then slows, his expression shifts from goofy to surprised. His gray eyes flick down, stall at my stomach, then return to mine.

Ford’s catch on the dip of my waist. His gaze pauses, sharpens. Then he looks up quick and clears his throat. He elbows Jace, who glares at him and rubs his stomach. Wes’s amber-eyed gaze lingers before he scratches the back of his neck and shiftshis stance. Logan crosses his arms, head tilted as he tracks my movement; something unreadable tightens behind his eyes.

I’ve seen them shirtless before. We swam yesterday. But now, without the water to distract me, they hit me different. The goofy boys who found me carving up a tree trunk with my pocketknife have changed. They’ve grown taller, broader, and their muscles are more defined.

My heart races, but I need to remain cool. Sure, we’re all getting older, but I’ve never been one to look at guys. I haven’t had a single crush at school; granted, all the sophomores at my school were assholes, and I’m sure it won’t be any different when I’m a junior next year.

“Hey.” I stop next to them, and they all shift forward, creating an almost circle around me. I’ve noticed they do that a lot, but part of me likes it. I reach back to tug my ankle into a stretch, bending at the knee like it’s the only reason I’ve paused.

Wes glances at my stomach again, then looks toward the trail. “Nice timing. They’re still herding people over from the Mess Hall.”

Ford nods at a cluster of kids jogging in. “Looks like we’re up against the strongest group.”

Logan shifts to give me space. “You warmed up?”

I swing my legs to warm them up more. “Almost. You?”

He shrugs and shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Good enough. I’m excited to get into this.”

Jace bends over and rips up a fistful of grass and lets most of it fall through his fingers, before he plays with a single blade. “If we stick together and pace the first mile, we can pass the rest when the trail bottlenecks.”

Ford snorts under his breath. “You running the course or coaching it?”

Jace grins. “I like winning.”

Counselor Ted climbs a platform and blows his whistle. The crowd hushes to a murmur.

He lifts a megaphone. “Fourth through seventh years to the start line! Younger campers, stay on the sidelines until your turn.”

We line up. I stand at the end by Ford. Fifty runners, give or take, line up on either end and behind us. One of the older girls, an obvious Alpha, comes to stand next to me as she rolls out her broad shoulders. She’s a good head taller than me, with long, thick legs.

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