Page 76 of Party Girl: How a Naughty Omega Finds Love
ChapterTwenty-Two
WHITNEY
The bruises Curtis and Shelly left behind are slowly fading. They don’t hurt anymore and I don’t bother covering them with makeup. After a quick shower and a fresh set of clothes, I venture out of Hayden’s bedroom. I’m a little annoyed that I can’t go to the bank, but I understand why it isn’t a good idea. Figuring out what’s in Granny’s safety deposit box will have to wait. Avi is nowhere in sight. A strong breeze rolls through the house, causing gooseflesh to ripple over my skin. I rub my arms and shut the windows in the living room. I look outside while shivers wrack my body. The summer mornings are beginning to cool. Fall is so close.
It’s Sunday, so there are a few kids out playing and chalking on the sidewalks. A group of moms stands together, chattering and watching their children. My upper lip curls in disgust. Happy families and nice parents. Can’t relate. I spin from the window and march to the kitchen, searching for coffee. I’ll never have children. Omegas are supposed to want them, but I can’t stomach the thought. I’m too afraid I’ll fuck them up like my parents did me. I’d like to think I wouldn’t beat any kids I had. There’s too much uncertainty, and I don’t want to become a monster. No babies means I never have to find out if I inherited my mother’s heavy hands.
I’m supposed to feel some sort of emptiness if I don’t become a mother, but all I can think about is what I can do for others. I could help those children in the orphanage. I could build more toys for them to play with. I could be kind to them. I could do so much, but only if I find a way to avoid getting in trouble with the Omega Council again.
Choosing a large mug, I fill it and add a little sugar and cream. Black coffee is for demons. I leave the living room and walk through the house, searching for Avi. His room is at the end of the hall, door left ajar. I push it open a little more, sweeping my eyes over the space. He’s not here. The dark wooden dresser holds a brass figure playing a flute. I don’t know much about Hinduism, but I recognize that the statue is one of the gods. His bed has a dark orange comforter and his pillowcases are red and gold. Avi likes color, and for some reason that makes me smile. His room reminds me of sunshine and warmth.
“Whitney?”
I jump, spilling coffee all over myself and the floor. Turning, I take a few steps away from his door. “I was just looking for you,” I say quickly to explain my snooping. My heart pounds in my chest, and I flick my gaze around the hall. He’s cornered me.
There’s a light switch between Asher and Trev’s door. The bathroom door is slightly open. I continue cataloging things in the hall to distract myself from my racing heart.
Sensing my discomfort, Avi shifts to the other side of the hallway, giving me an escape. “I’m not upset.” He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his light gray shirt damp from his run.
Coffee drips down my hand and onto the floor. “Shit. I’ll clean that.”
“I’ll help,” he offers, but I shake my head, rushing past him and into the kitchen. I spill more of the hot liquid in my haste, but I’ll wipe those spots up too. I grab the towel from the counter and get it wet.
Avi quietly grabs another and wets it, helping me even though I told him not to. He heads to the bigger spill so I squat down and wipe the smaller spots near the end of the hall.
“I’m sorry.”
“Who made you feel like you had to say sorry for accidentally spilling something? Accidents happen.”
I pause mid-wipe and frown at him. On a good day, my mother would have flipped out and called me names. On one of her bad days, she would have smacked me. Avi’s focused on the floor. I press my lips together and clean, standing when I finish.
“There, no big deal,” he says, rising up and carrying his towel to the sink. “What do you want to do today?”
Setting my rag at the edge of the sink, I lift a shoulder. “I figured we’d have another Bob Ross marathon.”
He laughs. “That’s a Saturday activity. Today is Sunday.”
“What’s a Sunday activity?”
“I usually paint or color in adult coloring books.”
I’ve seen those books in the store, fancy designs that are meant to be calming. Coloring is usually something kids do. I can’t remember a time when I colored at home. We had coloring sheets at school, but some of my classmates would bring pictures they colored for their teachers. It always made me feel inadequate.
“I’d really like to color,” I finally say.
“Coloring it is then. Let me shower and grab the stuff.” He wrings out the wet towel and hangs it over the edge of the sink next to the rag.
Taking his place, I rinse my rag and wipe off my mug. I pour some more coffee in it then go sit at the breakfast bar, wondering if there are parents out there that truly don’t get mad about the messes their kids make. Avi made it sound like my reaction wasn’t normal. I know plenty of people who freak out when they spill something. It’s normal.
Avi returns a little while later with two coloring books and a sleek black pencil box. He sits next to me, handing me one of the books. I take it and set it down, staring at the cover with wide eyes. This is not what I expected. A giant FUCK YOU in bright colors with fancy filigree all around it shocks a laugh out of me.
“Oh, yeah.” Avi chuckles. “I meant adult when I said adult.” He holds his coloring book up. That cover has a half-naked man ravaging a woman in a skimpy lingerie set.
I laugh again. “You color porn.”
“This is not porn,” he defends. “This is passion.” He flips through the pages, showing me various couples in different scenarios. Toward the end, there are pages filled with orgies, multiple men to one woman.
I snatch the book from his hand and flip to those pages, staring at one of the group scenes. “Wow.” Every hole on this woman is full and another man stands next to her so she can jack him off.
