Page 58 of In Deep
“So you’re from near Manchester?” Ollie asks me, the full power of his charm aimed directly at me. I answer, and he asks me more questions about myself, smiling and nodding away as he listens intently. It’s hypnotic to be the recipient of his intense focus and my skin warms with the heat of his eyes. The others seem happy to allow Ollie to dominate my attention. I hope I’m making a good impression on him at least because Seb keeps his gaze locked on his plate and contributes nothing to the discussion, giving a reluctant grunt whenever anyone asks him a question.
When our plates are clear, I look to Seb hopefully, giving him my most dazzling smile. “Is there pudding?” I ask him.
He jolts, then frowns.
“No, we’re training.” He slides his chair back. “I’m heading out. You can clear up,” he says to Ollie, who nods.
Then Ollie turns to me. “My turn to wash up.”
“Don’t you have a dishwasher?” I ask, glancing around the huge kitchen with all its shiny appliances.
“You can’t put pans in the dishwasher,” Seb says as he strides towards the door. “You’ll break it.”
I want to stick my tongue out at him. My parents have five kids. They always shove as much as they possibly can in the dishwasher until it is groaning, and it does just fine.
“He really doesn’t like me,” I mutter, once he’s out of earshot.
“On the contrary,” Ollie says, leaning over the table to take my plate. “He likes you a lot.”
I laugh bitterly. “He has a funny way of showing it.”
“He’s a funny guy.” Zane shrugs.
“Can I help you clear up?” I ask, beginning to gather up cutlery.
“You’re our guest. You don’t have to help clear up,” Duncan says.
“Actually, I’d appreciate the help,” Ollie says, staring at his pack mates.
They meet his gaze and then peer towards me.
“It’s fine,” I say. “I don’t mind helping.”
Something seems to pass unsaid between all of us and then Duncan and Zane are nodding and pushing away from the table.
“Well, we helped with the cooking, so we’re going to put our feet up,” Zane says, giving my arse a playful swipe as he passes me, and hooks his arm over Duncan’s shoulder. “Come find us when you’re done.”
And then I’m alone in the kitchen with just Ollie, and his scent of leather and orange seems ten times as potent and the room quiet. I can hear the tick of a clock and distant traffic.
“How can I help?” I ask, my voice, that had come so freely throughout the meal, now sticking in my throat.
“Let’s load up the dishwasher, and then you can dry while I wash.”
I nod and pass him plates as he slides them into the rack.
“So, physics, huh?” he says.
He’s asked me about home, my family and my friends, but we’re yet to cover what I’m studying.
“Yes,” I say, bracing myself for the usual barrage of sarcastic comments. “Before you ask, I’m not a Star Trek fan.”
He holds his hands up. “Never crossed my mind. Tell me then, why physics?”
“Why not?” I grab a cloth from the sink and lean over the table, wiping crumbs into my waiting palm. “I’ve always been fascinated by space and I liked maths and science at school.” I meet his eye. “Plus, I’ve always enjoyed defying people’s expectations of me as an omega. We don’t all want to study home economics and childcare, you know.”
He laughs. “Oh, trust me, I know.” I raise an eyebrow. “There are quite a few omegas on my course.”
“Are you studying home economics?”
