Page 2 of Fourth Base with the Alpha
West slaps me on the back, that amusement hovering on his lips. “Hunter’s a very private person. When the happy couple is ready to tell the world, you’ll be the first to know, Camilla.”
This seems to placate the host who, momentarily narrowing her eyes in my direction, turns back to West, who’s now off recounting some tale about the four of us on tour in Japan. It’s his go-to backup story whenever we need the conversation diverted. I should be thankful.
But I’m pissed.
Shit, I’m always pissed these days. Maybe it’s the fact that I see two of my best friends with the thing I want most in the world, and I’m fucking frustrated and jealous as hell.
Maybe Iamturning into my Goddamn father.
No wonder I can’t land an omega of my own.
The interview peters out after that and when the show cuts for an ad break, the host blows us all air kisses and we’re ushered away like inconvenient children.
As soon as we’re done, I’m marching out of the TV building, with all the usual people gawping at us, and into the waiting car.
I slide into the front passenger seat next to our bodyguard, Mick, who’s waiting at the wheel.
“How’d it go?” he asks, as the others climb into the back of the car.
“Fucking hilarious!” West says, leaning forward to slap me on the shoulder and bursting into a peal of laughter. “Hunter made up some shit about having a girlfriend.”
Ash is laughing too; even Trey has a grin pinned on his face.
Assholes.
“What?” Mick asks. “Why?”
“The host was fucking me off. Saying shit about me and women.”
“It wasn’t shit. It was all completely true. Your track record with relationships is shit, man.”
I grind my teeth. Usually, I don’t care if my band mates take the piss out of me. I’m pretty proficient at giving as good as I get. This, though? This is a sore point and their teasing irritates me as much as the stupid host’s. I stare out the windscreen as Mick pulls away from the curb and into the LA traffic. Of course, it’s fucking awful, gridlocked, nothing moving faster than a snail’s pace, which means I’m stuck in the car with these fuckers for the next half hour.
“That isn’t true,” I grumble, which only makes them laugh harder.
“How about Candy?” West says. “We told you not to date your fucking yoga instructor.”
Yeah, that relationship hadn’t lasted longer than four weeks. I wasn’t ‘zen’ enough for her. Apparently, I disrupted her ‘aura’.
“Or what was the name of the girl before?”
“Lydia,” I say.
Yeah, that relationship didn’t even make it to the fourth date. Not after she asked me to join a threesome with her live-in boyfriend.
West proceeds to run through the list of my failed relationships. And I have to admit it’s a car crash. Maybe I’m destined to be alone. A lone wolf, that’s what the host had said. But, man, that sounds fucking miserable.
I want a little omega of my own. One I can snuggle up to in their nest. Who I can care for and look after. Who I can rut through their fucking heat.
I scrub my hand down my face.
“Did you ever consider that I was telling the truth back there? That I do actually have a girlfriend? West was dating Ruby for months without any of us knowing.”
West chuckles again. “If you were dating some girl, we’d know about it.”
“How?”
“That gooey-eyed look you get when you’re into a girl.”
