3. Meggie

3

Meggie

" Y our brother! Seriously, Emily!" I throw my purse down on the bar counter.

I'm in a frickin' bar with dripping wet hair still shaking after everything that just happened. That's how much I love this girl. I toss my hair and hope the damp beachy waves will turn out cute and not a frizzy disaster.

Em gapes at me like she doesn't know what I'm talking about.

"You got your frickin' brother to choose me as his charity case?!"

I should have figured out who I was talking to sooner. I'd never met the guy before today, but I've heard plenty about him. Em practically worships the man. He's five years older, and always off traveling with his water polo team, but according to Em, he's smart, funny, talented, and the best big brother on the planet.

"It's not like that." She shakes her head.

"I won't go to the Olympics because of someone's pity." I rub my fingers along my scalp, digging at my roots under the pretense of fluffing my hair. "When I compete, it's going to be on my own merit. Not as some benchwarmer for a sport I've never played before."

"You're not a charity case, and he's not taking pity on you." She pats the seat next to her, but I'm too worked up to sit down. I can still smell Daniel's scent on me, but it's the lingering scent of ocean breezes and tropical fruit that has me itching to pace the room.

"They'll make you try out," Em says.

"I can't play water polo! I'm a swimmer!"

"Shh! Keep your voice down." She grabs my arm. "Being a strong swimmer is the most important thing for water polo. I know you can do this."

"On a team of all men? Alpha men!? You know the risk that is for me."

"You can't give up this easily." She drops her voice low so no one else will hear. "What about your plan? What about all the little girls training for the Olympics right now who will designate as omegas? Don't you want to set a better example for them? Prove that omegas can compete just like everyone else."

Her words twist my heart, but it's what she says next that does me in.

"I can't… I can't go alone, Megs. I just can't."

The tension filling my muscles pops like a balloon stuck with a pin. Em has struggled with social anxiety for as long as I've known her. Going to the Olympics alone isn't just something she doesn't want to do. It'll be torture for her. No matter how much she wants it, she'll be a miserable ball of anxiety the whole time if she doesn't have someone safe with her. I wouldn't be surprised if she dropped out altogether. Which means we'd both lose our dream.

We're supposed to go to the Olympics together. We made vision boards with magazine clippings and drew stars on the poster board. The plan was to be winners together. To compete together. To experience it together.

I sigh and sink down onto the barstool. "You really think I can learn a whole new sport and compete at an Olympic level?"

"The team's already qualified. You won't need to re-qualify, just join. The guys are good. You might not even need to do all that much. But you'd get to go. We'd get to go. Together." She fiddles with the glass in front of her. "As much as I'd like to pretend otherwise, we both know this is your last chance."

"Harsh." I sneer, but there's no bite in the word. She's right. And I hate it. I pick up her drink and down the rest of it, glad she ordered a lemon drop and not something gross, like beer. She doesn't protest as I set down her empty glass.

"Look, you don't have to say yes right away. Just go to the tryouts. Play a game with them."

I contemplate what she's saying, still feeling unsure. "What are they like?"

She wrinkles her nose like she's thinking and brings her empty glass to her lips before remembering I just drank it all. "Harrison's their pack alpha. He's… intimidating. But he's always treated me like I'm his sister and not just Ellis's. He doesn't like most people though," she muses.

A moody alpha who hates people. She's not winning me over, but at least he's less likely to be a temptation if he doesn't like me.

"But I'm sure he'll love you," she quickly adds with an almost convincing look.

I'm not sure if it's comforting to hear he might like me or not.

"Dante is Ellis's bonded," Em goes on. "He's their team captain, and I swear he must work out all the time because the man is ripped." She shakes her head and smiles. "My brother is lucky, but now that you've met Ellis, you can probably tell. He has a charm about him that people can't resist."

Em reaches out and pulls a bowl of pub mix over to us. "Then, there's McQuinn, Nils, and Ozren. McQuinn is the most talkative of the group. He's fun. Has a bit of a temper though—don't play monopoly with him. I learned that the hard way last Christmas. And he'll totally ask you the exact time and place you were born so he can get your sun, moon, and rising signs." There's a serious warning in her voice even as she smiles.

I smile back, unfazed. My grandma loved astrology. So I'm very familiar with my sun, moon, and rising signs.

"Nils is probably my favorite. He knows the best coffee shops in any city, but calls iced coffee an abomination."

She scoffs. Em is a devout worshiper of a large, iced, dirty chai. Personally, I prefer tea. I grab a handful of pub mix and pop a few pretzels in my mouth as she continues.

"He's studying to be a doctor of some sort once the Olympics are over. Nils is quieter than the other guys, but trust me, the man is always watching and listening. Oh—" She bounces in her seat as she points to an attractive man in the corner. "See that guy over there? Nils looks a bit like that guy. His mom's parents are Korean, and his dad's grandparents are Japanese, but he's got the slightest hint of a southern accent that mostly just comes out when he's drunk, which isn't often." She pauses and tilts her head, studying the guy in the corner. "Actually, maybe he doesn't look so much like Nils. Nils has a mohawk, although he rarely styles it up and usually just lets the longer hair flop over one of the shaved sides."

While I take in the man she's compared Nils to, Em shoves a handful of pub mix in her mouth and keeps talking.

"Then, we've got Ozren. All muscles and tattoos. He's bound to hit on you, but don't take the bait. He's a heartbreaker, and, from what I hear, a bit feral in the bedroom. But he's pretty harmless as long as you don't step on his shoes. Literally. The guy is real particular about his sneakers."

"And they're all alphas?"

Em ducks her head like she's trying to get out of the line of fire. "Yeah."

Six alphas. Six .

"Look, I know it's not ideal but…" She tucks my wet hair behind both my ears and cups my cheeks. "I love you, Megs. You're like a sister to me, and I want this for you. You've worked so hard and you deserve to be there with me. Please, just try. I really think it could work."

I sigh and pull her into a hug. It can't hurt to try. I probably won't make the team anyway. "Fine."

She squeals loud enough to draw attention and shoves me hard enough to make me topple off the bar stool. My gaze bounces around the room looking for the tall, well-built Alpha who smells like the ocean, assuming he's here to support his sister.

"He's not here," Emily says, noting my wandering attention. She catches the bartender's eye and raises her empty glass, asking for another. Em rarely drinks, but when she's out with a crowd, she has a tendency to have one drink too many to calm her nerves. She points at me and holds up two fingers to order me one, too. "He had a pack emergency."

Pack emergency is usually code for an omega going into heat. At least that's something. Bonded alphas shouldn't be as likely to wreak havoc on my pheromones and my blockers. The fact that they have an omega should make this easier. Though, being around a bunch of alphas still won't be ideal.

The bartender brings us our drinks, and Em hops off her stool. "Tomorrow I'll teach you how to play water polo. Tonight, we dance." She lifts her glass over her head as she walks backwards, shimming as she weaves through the crowd. Half of whom cheer as she joins them, calling out their congratulations. Already a little tipsy, Em preens and throws her head back in a happy laugh.

It makes me smile to see her like this, but I wish my excitement for her wasn't tainted by my own disappointment. Determined not to bring her down, I swallow two gulps of my lemon drop, put on a smile, and join her in the middle of the dance floor. A tiny nagging thought reminds me Emily didn't describe their omega.