Page 67 of Party Girl: How a Naughty Omega Finds Love
“This smells amazing.” I take my first bite and hum in appreciation. “Tastes amazing too.” It takes all of my restraint to keep from digging in like a starved dog. My stomach grumbles softly, but no one notices.
Preening, Avi sits a little straighter and thanks me.
“Aw, he’s blushing,” Asher says, pointing at Avi with his naan.
“Asshole,” Avi mutters.
“Guilty.” Asher smiles around a mouthful.
“That movie is streaming tonight,” Hayden says.
“The one with John Trento?” Trev scoops some of his rice and meat with his spoon and takes a bite.
“Yeah. I’ve heard good things about it.” Hayden dips his naan in the gravy-esque sauce.
I follow his lead, ripping a small piece off of mine and sweeping it through the sauce. The naan has garlic and butter flavoring that complements the dish. Subtle hints of cinnamon burst across my tongue, making my mouth water for more. I lose the battle with myself and lean forward, eating without restraint. Bites that are larger than is proper fill my spoon, and I make little noises of delight, reveling in the taste of the savory curry. I’m so absorbed in eating as fast as I can, I zone out of the conversation. Only when I use the last of my naan to clean the bowl do I realize no one is talking. I lift my gaze and take the four of them in. They’re staring at me.
“What?” I demand.
“You eat like you’ve been to prison,” Trev says, frowning.
Hayden tenses beside me, slipping his hand beneath the table and placing it on my thigh. I furrow my brow. Did I miss something?
“Which is odd because you’ve never been.” Asher points at me with his spoon. “And you didn’t grow up with brothers.”
“How do you know that?” Humiliation works up my neck, heating my face.
“When we book people, the system links profiles to their family and pack,” Hayden explains. His thumb rubs over the material of my yoga pants, distracting me from where the conversation is heading.
“So if you didn’t have brothers—”
“Are you thirsty?” Hayden cuts in, interrupting Asher.
“Uh, sure. I’ll make it.” I grab the glass and escape. I learned to eat as quick as possible when I lived with my mother. The longer I stayed at the table with her, the more likely I was to make her mad.
A solid thwap sounds behind me.
“Ow, what the fuck?” Asher asks.
I don’t look back. I don’t listen to the whispered conversation. I don’t let myself feel. I make the drink on auto-pilot, thinking about pruning roses with Granny.
“They’re hardy,” she’d say, chuckling at the flowers like they were real people. “For something so pretty, they sure are tough.” Wiping her brow with her arm, she grinned at the plant and told it how well it was doing. When she finished, she came and sat beside me, touching a bruise on my shoulder. “What happened here?”
“I fell,” I lied, too afraid to tell her the truth.
Granny lost her mates last year, and I didn’t want to be another reason for her to cry.
“You have to be more careful; you keep showing up with bruises. Is everything all right? Someone being mean to you at school?” She wrapped her arm around me.
“No.” I stiffened in her hold. Granny always hugs and kisses the side of my head. I never know what to do with the contact. I endure it, wishing she’d stop the whole time. She noticed my discomfort and pulled back. My mind screamed for her to stop, but I never voiced the word.
It didn’t make sense to hate the love she offered, while yearning for it at the same time.
“I’m going to talk to your mother. Make sure she keeps an eye on your friends. You shouldn’t let them beat up on you because you’re small for your age.”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Please don’t tell her. Really, the girl is a bully but the teacher talked to her. She won’t do it again.” Words spilled out of me, a downpour of desperation. If she said something to Mother, I’d earn more of her anger. Granny couldn’t say anything.
Granny’s face wrinkled with confusion. “Well, all right. I hate knowing someone hurt you. Breaks my heart.”
