Page 25 of The Devil Takes

I still lived there.

I wasn’t going to get to move into the frat until after this semester was over. I was so fucking screwed. Dad was sure to take one look at the building and yeet me all the way to fucking Hell. No way he’d approve. He didn’t even want the dean of the college to know I was an omega, not that we’d gotten away with hiding that, and there was no way he’d approve of me living in a dorm full of people that knew his dirty secret.

Walking in and out of the building was like wearing a neon sign that said omega on it. That was why I only ever used the front entrance when Tommy was around. Entering through the side always helped with prying eyes, not that I’d ever admit that to him. He already judged me enough for hiding who I was.

I was so fucking fucked it wasn’t even funny.

But…

It wasn’t entirely hopeless. I mulled over my options as I walked, hopping up the steps at the back of the dorm building and slipping into the quiet warmth of the indoors that had been my home for over a year. No. It wasn’t hopeless. I could lie. I could lie my fucking ass off. Sure, I was shit at it, but I’d have to get real good at it real quick, wouldn't I? And then next time he visited he wouldn’t know the fucking difference. Yeah. That’s what I’d do. I’d lie.

I’d just have to talk to Stinky first.

With my plan in mind, I pushed into our room only to be met with the sharp acrid scent of nail polish remover and Tommy’s cheeky grin. He wiggled his toes at me and I rolled my eyes, flopping onto my bed with a quiet huff. I felt unhealthily exhausted, even though I’d really only walked about a mile. Maybe I should’ve driven the car? But sometimes I liked the cold to clear my head.

With the spaghetti of my Dad’s words in my head tangling up with my most recent dream about Haden, I was more than a little exhausted. Tomorrow I’d deal with all of this. Tomorrow. Right now, I just…needed a nap. And a drink.

Damn. I should’ve bought that soda.

The moment the door opened at the frat house, I was met with Frank’s friendly but cautious expression. I didn’t really know Frank. Not the way I knew Stinky or Brett. Sure, we’d interacted at the events I’d been to, and we shared the customary head-nod now and again, but I was pretty sure I’d never actually spoken to him outside that one amateur football game we’d both played last summer.

The fear of alphas that had been instilled into most omegas by the time they were my age was suspiciously missing due to my upbringing, crushed between the massive sweaty shoulders of my two alpha brothers. So yeah. I didn’t know Frank, but he didn’t scare me either.

My dad on the other hand…

“Hey man, what’s up?” Frank asked, bobbing his head as he leaned in the doorway. He knew I was moving in at the beginning of next semester, and it wasn’t like I hadn’t been over at least a dozen times as I’d worked my way through initiation. But he was still looking at me like an outsider, and it made my skin prickle.

“Is Stinky home?”

“Nah man, he just went home for the weekend. He’s visiting fam.” Frank blinked at me. “You chill?”

Was I chill?

Not really.

I was about as far from chill as I could possibly be.

Squirming—on the inside—I shrugged. “Uh, no.” I probably should’ve lied. Said I was “chill” after all. But I could give a rat’s ass at the moment what Frank thought of me. If he thought I was a typical “beta basket case,” so be it. His eyes widened and he shrugged his massive shoulders, clearly uncomfortable as he tried to shake off my bad mojo. “Is it cool if I go check out his room?”

Maybe Brett would be home.

“To see Brett,” I added, covering my tracks.

Frank’s eyebrows climbed higher, but he just stepped aside, sweeping his hand toward the front room as I stepped across the threshold. Because I wasn’t a fucking heathen, I stomped the mud off my boots, despite the fact there were already muddy footprints all over the shaggy beige carpet.

I headed up the stairs, ignoring the way Frank’s gaze made the hair on my arms raise. I could feel his thoughts whirling around me without needing to see his face. Fucking weirdo. But I didn’t care.

I had a mission.

The hallway was littered with discarded laundry and crumpled red solo cups like it always was. I kicked one aside as I dodged a half-empty laundry basket and swept my way toward the back of the hall where Stinky’s room sat. I could hear the soft thrum of music buzzing through the crack in the door and I sighed, some of the tension bleeding from my shoulders as I knocked on the frame and then pushed my way inside with my shoulder.

“Sup, man.” Brett nodded at me from where he was lying, slung across his bed. The rooms here were bigger than the ones me and Tommy had. They were allowed to paint too—which didn’t necessarily mean they had taste, or took advantage of the fact. Stinky’s side of the room—my side—was painted a deep eggshell blue. I decided I liked it. Just as I had the first time I’d been there when they’d been showing me around that morning after my night in the cemetery when I’d been rubbed raw and fucked open, in more ways than one.

We stared at each other for a moment, the awkwardness palpable in the air as I shuffled in the doorway and Brett sat up straighter. I should probably get used to the weird looks I kept getting. Maybe I looked deranged. Maybe my dad’s phone call had fucked me over more than I thought it had? Maybe he could see it on my face.

Maybe I was saying maybe too much, again.

I shut the door.