Page 17 of Give Me You
Emilio
I'm all but vibrating in the backseat of the car, my leg bouncing uncontrollably as Otto navigates through traffic. The anxiety is crawling under my skin, making it impossible to sit still. My hands are clenched in my lap, knuckles white, and I keep checking the time on my phone even though I know it's only been a minute since I last looked. Forty minutes until the vote. Forty minutes to figure out how to save everything.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I turn on the screen, expecting another threatening message from Zaden or anothermissed call from Charles. But instead, I see a notification from one of the chat rooms I used to hang out in with other Omegas.
The group has been pretty quiet lately, everyone moving on with their lives, finding their places in the world. I haven't posted in weeks, too busy with the club and the pregnancy to keep up with online friendships. But seeing the notification makes something in my chest loosen slightly.
I open the app and see a message from Coolblue. The username makes me smile despite everything, remembering when we first started talking years ago. He was one of the first people who made me feel like being an Omega didn't have to define me, that I could be more than what society expected.
Coolblue: Hey man, I saw some things about your club on Social Books. You okay?
I grimace, staring at the message. Of course, he saw something. Those pictures are probably everywhere by now, circulating through social media and gossip sites. Zaden would have made sure of that. I'm about to type back when another message pops up, this time from MacNCheese.
MacNCheese:Please tell me you're okay?
The concern in her message makes my throat tight. These people barely know me, just a username and the stories I've shared over the years. But they care more than most of the people I see every day. I quickly type up a response, my thumbs moving fast over the screen. My username, ClassyO, was something I created when I was eighteen and thought I was so clever. Now it just feels like a relic from a simpler time.
ClassyO: Yeah, I'm good. About to go have some Alphas' asses.
Coolblue: Thank fuck. It said you were offline and everything.
I type back, needing the distraction from the anxiety churning in my gut.
ClassyO: Just been busy with… everything. And now I have to prove that I'm not just an Omega, so I don't lose my club.
Razorfox: Sometimes it's okay to be just an Omega. The world tells us we're not strong enough, so we try to be more, but maybe that's all you need to be.
Maybe that's all I need to be. But how can I just be an Omega when everyone is waiting for me to fail, when they're all expecting me to crumble under the pressure? Being just an Omega means giving up control, means letting someone else take over. And I can't do that. I won't.
Strawberrybubbles’ icon pops up, three little dots waving over the bottom textbox. She found her Alphas months ago but only made it official in just over a month ago and kind of dropped off after that, only popping in occasionally to share updates about how happy she is. Part of me has always been jealous of that, of how easy it seemed for her to find what she was looking for.
Strawberrybubbles: You're running a club while pregnant, ClassyO. You're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. You don't need to be anything other than you.
Coolblue: Oh look at Ms. Strawberry all grown up!
Razorfox: When did you get so wise?
MacNCheese: Careful or we'll think you actually have your shit together now.
Strawberrybubbles: I’m not wise. I’m just having babies of my own and I couldn’t imagine having to work.
Well, that’s a new development but I’m not surprised. The tensions in my chest eases a little bit as I type back.Thank you. Wish me luck.
A flurry of good luck messages and encouragement fill my screen before I stuff the phone into my pocket as the car comes to a stop outside the back of the club, closest to the conference room. Otto turns in his seat to look at me, a small smile playing on his lips. "Ready for this?"
"No," I say honestly. "But I don't have a choice."
Otto studies me for a moment, his eyes taking in my wrinkled clothes and tired face. "Do you want to change?"
I stare down at the clothes I wore yesterday, the same ones Liam washed for me. They're clean but obviously not fresh, and I know I don't look my best. But something about showing up looking polished and put together feels wrong. Like I'd be playing into their expectations, trying to prove I can be perfect when I'm clearly not.
I shake my head. "No, it's better that I don't. I need to make a statement."
I need them to see that I'm not going to pretend everything is fine. I need them to see the reality of what happened, not some sanitized version where I've had time to fix my appearance and craft the perfect story.
We get out of the car, and I take a deep breath before heading toward the back entrance. The hallway is quiet, the club not open yet, just the cleaning crew preparing for tonight. If there is a tonight. If I still have a club after this meeting.
The conference room door is closed when I reach it, low murmurs that stop the moment I push the door open. All eyes turn to me as I step inside, and I force myself to stand tall, to meet their gazes without flinching.
