Page 18 of Sincerely, Pack Pucked
I think you’ll survive.
S
I won’t. You’ve done me in, Maple girl.
Maple
I’m going to go nap now. I’ll leave you to wallow in your suffering.
I laughed as I put my phone down. Our conversations weren’t particularly in-depth, but there was something about them that made me feel lighter.
Talking to them was now a part of my daily routine, and it was very rare that I went more than a day without talking to them. That was probably why being silent for several days while I was in heat had been a big red flag to them. In the past, when I knew a heat was coming, I would tell them I was going dark to study for a while, or traveling. Something to cover for my trip to horny hell.
Slightly more invigorated, I stood up, stretching, still wearing my towel as I turned towards the nest, determined to tackle the stinky sheets so I could nap away the post-heatexhaustion. I would have to return to classes and work soon. Heat leave wasn’t that long, and I was lucky my job granted me it at all—probably because it was a campus job.
It wasn’t uncommon for some workplaces to discriminate against omegas because they had to take a few days off every three months when their heat hit. It was stupid; just because our biology made us horny as fuck for a few days every now and then didn’t mean we were incompetent.
Slamming the washer door shut, I padded back to my nest. Thankfully, the omega dorm rooms came with their own washing machines because we often needed them, thanks to our heats and general messier existence.
Omegas produced a lot more bodily fluids, and the university administration had decided long ago that they shouldn’t be part of the communal laundry room.
Picking up my laptop, I sat at my small desk. I had a few emails I needed to check, thanks to taking a few heat days off.
I was kicking myself that I had gotten in the shower after I had been at the hockey rink. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but I had washed off the phone number that the strawberry-jam-smelling alpha had written on the palm of my hand.
Looking down at the clean expanse of skin, I pouted. Was there any other way to find him? Probably not.
Thankfully, I had the number of the second alpha-my dark and rich coffee-scented man. Cuddling with him in the nest had been one of the greatest experiences of my life, and I wasn’t afraid to admit that. I hadn’t really dated much, and none of those dates had gotten to the cuddling stage, so I craved it badly.
Closing my laptop, I went to grab my phone. I needed to call or text him, or at least say thank you.
How exactly did one go about thanking an alpha for knotting them during their heat? A fruit basket didn’t really seem appropriate.
I paused—my phone wasn’t on the table.
Sighing, I stood up. I had a terrible habit of misplacing my phone. Closing my eyes, I tried to picture when I’d last had it.
Oh, it was in my hand when I had been shoving my bedding into the washing machine.
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
A squeak left my chest as I ran to the washing machine, groaning when I noticed that, among the tangled bedding was my cell phone.
I’d put my cell phone in the washing machine.
Crap.
It was swirling around in the soapy water now…
That was a new low, even for me.
Chapter 6
Devin
We all had been worried about our little pen pal.
