Page 62 of Party Girl: How a Naughty Omega Finds Love
“Because the alpha who purchased you like livestock said he was coming to see you?”
“He probably wanted to piss them off is all. Curtis hardly knows me.” I mix the vodka and club soda half and half in the cup.
“Hmm.” Avi grabs my drink before I can take a sip. He takes a big gulp, lifting an eyebrow when I make a frustrated noise. “That’s a lot of vodka for a woman your size.”
“I can handle my liquor.” I snatch the glass back and refill it. “If you wanted one, you should have asked.”
“I don’t drink.” He runs his finger over my arm, the lightest of touches that sends gooseflesh chasing after it.
“You just drank from mine,” I say, looking at him.
“To stop you from drinking more than you should.”
“You’re not my father.”
Discomfort flashes across his face, and he steps back. “I’m not trying to be.”
I frown, hating the distance between us. This afternoon had been really nice… but now it’s like we’re complete strangers again. There are unmistakable traces of pity in his gaze too. He feels sorry for me. “Stop trying to fix me,” I mumble.
Staring at the sauce in the pan, he presses his lips together and nods.
Mad that I feel bad for making him feel bad, I turn and head to the couch. Maybe space will help. We’ve spent a lot of time together and that’s bound to get old quick. Hayden, Asher, and Trev come inside a few minutes later. Trev and Asher head to their bedrooms, but Hayden comes straight to me, dropping at my side on the couch.
“Can I have a drink?”
“I can make you one.”
His hand falls on my leg when I start to get up, warming my skin through the fabric of my yoga pants. “Of yours. Maybe we can share? I don’t want you to leave.”
Unsure of how to respond, I simply hand him the glass. He takes a few sips before returning it.
“Was Avi nice?”
“Of course he was,” I say, gaze straying to the man in question.
His brown eyes are on me, and I smile a little, hoping to let him know I’m not mad at him. Everything is so fucked up, and I took out my frustration on him. He returns the gesture.
“Bob Ross marathons?” Hayden asks.
I chuckle. “Yeah.”
“That guy knew how to paint, that’s for sure. What do you like to do for fun? Do you paint?”
Taking a drink, I frantically try to think of something interesting. I don’t paint. I don’t knit. I don’t really read… not because I don’t like it, but because I never had the time to go to the library or money to buy new books. My favorite thing growing up was sitting with my grandma in her garden, but I hate the way dirt feels under my fingers. It reminds me too much of that old cellar… all the nights spent crying for someone to let me out. Clawing at the locked door. Sleeping with my cheek pressed against the dirt covering the crumbling concrete. God, my life is fucking pathetic.
The only thing I’ve ever done for myself was buy a few cheap model cars from a thrift store. They were missing pieces, but everything else faded away while I followed the instructions. The amount of focus needed to build them didn’t allow for my mind to wander.
“For fun… uh… I guess I like building model cars.”
His eyes light up. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “I don’t keep them if that’s what you’re thinking. I only like to make them. I give them away to kids.”
“Random kids or…?” Hayden reaches for the glass, and I let him take it, not at all bothered by the way his fingers brush over mine. There’s something familiar and comforting about this man. Like no matter what happens, I can trust him to take care of me.
“No. I took them to the orphanage.” Since I only made two, it was probably cruel of me to donate them, given the number of kids. If I had more money, I would have built a hundred. The Royal Council likes to pretend the orphanage doesn’t exist. The building is run down, but the employees were kind and seemed to care about the kids.
“Oh,” he says, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he takes a drink. “That was nice of you.”
