Page 70 of Feeling the Heat: Part Two
“Am I gay?” I croak.
Camille releases a strangled laugh. “I can’t make that call for you. I’m pretty sure you’re into women, what with…” She gestures between us. “Everything we’ve done. If you’re also attracted to men, that might make you bi. Or pan. Or neither! You don’t have to label yourself the second you get aroused by a man.”
“Right. Yeah.” I clear my throat that’s gone tight. “Sorry, just having an existential crisis over here.”
She pulls me against her in a hug. “We don’t have to talk about it if you’re uncomfortable.”
I sigh, relaxing against her. She’s the person I feel the most comfortable with in the world, and she’s pried out parts of me I didn’t even realize were hidden by giving me space and showing interest in me. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t mind crashing out if you’re the one listening.”
She kisses my cheek. “Same.”
“This is what I get for saying I love pillow talk.” I huff out a weak laugh.
Camille chuckles. “No, it’s my bad. All of this conversation started because I was nervous to tell you I’m starving and wanted to go get some of the cold pizza out of the fridge.”
I pull back enough to look into her face. “You’re hungry?”
“Yeah… a little.”
All of my embarrassment is forgotten in the face of Camille ignoring her needs. “Why didn’t you say anything?” I sit up. “If you’re hungry, you should eat!”
“I know, I know, it’s just…I didn’t want you to judge me. You’re not exactly a pizza at midnight kind of guy.”
“Says who?” I ask, befuddled.
“Says your abs.” She pokes my stomach.
“Cami, what I choose to eat or not eat, and the way my body looks, have no bearing on how I feel about you. I don’t give a shit about what or when you eat.” I slide out of bed and place my hands on my hips. “Besides, I’m hungry too, and pizza sounds perfect. You okay with it cold, or do you want me to heat it up for you?”
A soft smile twists her lips, and I don’t miss how her eyes drop to my dick for a second. “Focus, baby. That’s not the kind of sausage that’ll make you feel full.”
Camille licks her lips. “I don’t know, you’ve filled me up with it really wellbefore.”
“Woman,” I groan, pretending that her jokes don’t fill me with an irrational amount of joy.
“Cold is good.” She sits up and slides on a shirt she had tucked away in her nest. I recognize it as one of Ambrose’s, and my stomach does a little flip.
Maybe what I’m feeling is part of adding an omega to a pack. Maybe it’s normal for some of my attraction to her to transfer over to my packmates, blurring lines that were solid before.
I shake off those thoughts, boxing them away as something to deal with later. I’ll stay awake at night overthinking and confusing myself about this, but right now, my omega is hungry.
I may not be certain about much in my life, but Camille has become my north star. No matter how tangled and strange my thoughts are, I have someone who sees me and holds space for me to figure the hard things out.
I return a minute later with the pizza box and paper towels, grinning when Camille doesn’t hesitate to grab a slice and dig in. We eat together, neither of us speaking for a while.
“You know…” she starts, after she’s finished her piece and wipes off her hands. “The signs were always there.”
I cock my head at her. “Signs of what?”
A cheeky smile twists her lips. “You have a wiener dog. Your favorite pizza is sausage and peppers.”
“Oh my god, stop,” I groan, palming my face at her terrible joke, but her teasing eases weight off of my chest. Makes our conversation not feel so momentous.
She cackles and pokes me in the side with her toe. “You’re dick-obsessed.”
I catch her foot in my hand and tug her toward me.
She squeals as I tickle her, feebly fightingagainst me until she’s wheezing from laughter. “No, please, no, I’ll stop teasing.”
