Thorns That Bloom (Venusverse), page 8
I hope you’re both feeling better.
Theo
(the dumbass from manufacturing)
I smirk to myself, thinking about how dumb it all is. My first month at this job, and I have people leaving apology letters on my table? So much for keeping a low profile and surviving with my head down.
But it’s kind of nice that he wrote it. Who writes notes these days, anyway?
I remember little from the restroom—mostly irrational panic and some blurry fragments of faces in front of me—but from what I can make out, he looked genuinely concerned. Maybe he’s just a good man. They still exist, right? Maybe I should find him and thank him for trying to help, and apologize for freaking out like that, instead of ignoring him and running away from it like I so want to.
Face my fears, being a better person, and all that…
Small steps. I can do that.
Chapter 7
Sam
The new day comes with new determination. I know how it usually goes: by the afternoon, I’m exhausted and don’t feel like talking to anyone, so my best and only chance is to catch Theo in the cafeteria. That won’t be easy in itself, and even that idea makes me a little uneasy, but I’m determined to do it.
Today it is me, Kristoff, and Jane—the woman from the main office he’s gotten fairly close to recently—going together. Kristoff being so enamored with her makes everything a lot easier. It means she is his primary focus and the victim of his friendly, overly enthusiastic chatter.
They barely pay attention to me telling them I’ll be right back as soon as I spot Theo’s shining head of hair in the large group of manufacturing workers coming in for lunch in their dull orange jumpsuits.
Crossing the cafeteria feels like stepping back into high school. Invisible territory lines divide the employees into their respective departments. It’s not much different from how it was in my last job, but when I walk out of the area belonging to my people and toward the one filled with testosterone and alpha pheromones, my gait becomes unsteady.
Gulping, I dart my eyes across the faces, fixing my gaze on Theo, and pray he looks my way so that I don’t have to come any further.
Theo talks to the other guys, grinning widely with those pretty white teeth, until he sits down and glances around. The moment his eyes meet mine—probably because I’m standing in the middle of the room—my insides twist. Instead of faltering, I awkwardly lift my hand to wave discreetly and raise my brows.
He blinks and instantly drops everything. Just like that. He stands quickly, then pauses, like he’s unsure if I really was aiming it at him. Questioningly, he points at his chest. Suppressing a smirk, I nod and indicate for him to come to me again, which he finally does.
God, he looks like an excited puppy when he heads my way.
I slowly move toward the door while he catches up. I can’t stand the idea of everyone’s eyes being on us. Leaning against the wall by the huge potted plant next to the doors to the cafeteria, I cross my arms over my chest and take a deep breath.
“Hey,” Theo says, stopping a few steps away from me. He almost seems more anxious than I am, darting his eyes all over and smiling hesitantly. “You, um…got my note?” He nervously lifts his arm to scratch the back of his head, unintentionally showing off the tight, bulging biceps.
“Yeah. I-I appreciate it.” I keep my voice firm, for the most part. “I wanted to apologize for making a fuss with all that. I hope you didn’t get into any trouble.”
I can hardly meet his eyes, no matter how confident I try to appear, and I’m not sure why. It’s not like he’s hard to look at.
He shakes his head. “Oh, no. It’s fine! I was just hoping you and the baby were okay,” he says and hesitantly points at my stomach.
The fact that he’s thinking about that takes me aback. He did in the note, too. “It was only a panic attack,” I say quietly, looking down. “It didn’t hurt the baby or anything.” He seems like a caring person. It makes it that much more frustrating that I dragged him into it.
“I’m glad,” he says, his voice soft, almost tender. I meet his careful gaze as he shifts on his feet, both hands in his pockets now. “Do you know the sex?”
The way he asks the question, in such a light-hearted, curious tone, isn’t threatening. I hesitantly smile and shake my head. “Not yet.”
Then it hits me. His scent is faint, the same smell of spiced coconut, but it’s mixed with traces of his sweat. And somehow, the combination makes my cheeks burn.
My body reacts to it without me even focusing on it properly, and I feel my stomach twist in a different way. Not so much from anxiety, but…a pleasant way that I haven’t experienced in a while.
And that’s when all that information truly registers inside my brain. It feels like since it happened, my connection between the two has been damaged. When my brain realizes the way my body reacts to the manly, alpha scent in front of me, it seizes. It rings with caution. Alarm.
'You shouldn’t like this smell,' it says. 'It means danger and nothing else.'
Desperately trying to suppress the reaction I know is unreasonable, I flare my nostrils and keep my face neutral, hoping not to show my inner turmoil.
“You’re new here, right?” Theo asks.
I half expected, and hoped, for him to just walk away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s going into awkward small talk.
Darting my eyes around us, I remind myself that we’re in a room full of people. I’m safe. Logically, there’s nothing threatening or dangerous about this situation at all. Especially not with that puppy face of his. He’s looking at me with a strange tenderness, hanging on for an answer like it actually means something to him, and he’s not just going through the bullet point questions people ask each other when there’s nothing else to talk about.
“Yeah.” I try not to think about his scent as I speak, gulping hard. “I moved to the city recently.”
“Alone or with family?”
That question falls out of his mouth a little too fast for comfort. Narrowing my eyes, I glance up at him, only for Theo to evade my gaze. Looking like he himself realizes the almost hopeful undertone of that word was a little too obvious.
A wave of tingling discomfort passes over my back when I realize: is he trying to flirt with me? Is he finding out if I’m single? Or if I live by myself?
‘He’s an alpha,’ that alarm sounds again, making every muscle in my body wind tighter. ‘And you are an easy target for someone like him.’
Stop. Stop thinking about that.
I gulp again, but it doesn’t seem to freaking do anything. “I umm…yeah,” I mutter, so thrown by that realization that I don’t even think to lie in time. Well, now he knows. “I’m not looking to date,” I add sharply.
I might be going through something, but I’m still me. Being direct might be a little more stressful now that I don’t have all of my confidence, but it doesn’t change who I am entirely. Who I am is someone who would make this clear right away. Especially now.
Theo widens his eyes briefly and raises his brows. With a quick, “Oh, okay,” he nods and smiles like he’s the least bothered.
What did I expect from him? To jump at me?
I have to think rationally. Of course he’s fine with it. He isn’t like them. Not everyone is like them. I’m okay. Everything is okay.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable again. Would…would you prefer someone else to come up if we have a problem we need feedback for?” he asks with genuine worry in his smooth, pleasantly deep voice.
Letting out an exhale through my nose, I shake my head. “No, that’s fine,” I mutter. “I gotta go now. I've already taken enough of your lunch break.” Before he has a chance to respond, I slip away.
I spend the rest of the day staring at my computer, wondering if I had overreacted. Wondering if he really was interested in me and why that made me so anxious. It was bound to happen at some point—another person looking at me in that way. I just didn’t realize it would be so soon.
But he was nice about it. He didn’t seem too bothered. Maybe it wasn’t even disappointment that I thought I glimpsed in those blue eyes.
Either way, I know I can’t let that shake me. All my focus has to be at work, and the small consolation is that now, I can stop feeling guilty about the embarrassment in the restroom.
The way my body deals with pregnancy ebbs and flows.
There are days when I come to work and feel good; energized even. There are other times when my hormones and pheromones go completely crazy. On those days, I lock myself in the office, no matter the poor ventilation, and tell Kristoff to only come in if it’s something important.
At least my pregnancy is a good enough excuse for everyone else to tiptoe around me. It’s better than those strangers knowing how broken my psyche has been since it happened, and how much that has to do with my reactions to…everything. A constant reminder that those bastards affected my entire view of the world. I try not to think about it, because marinating in my own anger isn’t productive.
I save the file I’ve been working on for like an hour and finally close it. Done. I lean back with a sigh and momentarily shut my eyes because they’re burning. My head hurts. The hot flashes keep coming, though they’re not as bad today.
My OBGYN said that everything was fine the last time she checked me. The baby is healthy, I’m not missing anything, and all this is unfortunately just a normal part of omega pregnancy. Some people have it easy, others don’t. And of course, I have to be one of the ones who don’t.
Life always find ways to keep me on my damn toes…
Rubbing my forehead, I pull out my phone. No one really checks up on me—sometimes it feels like they forget I’m here—so I figure I can get away with another quick break.
I have an unread message from Mom. A picture of some flowers in her garden. Sending me photos of random stuff has been the only way she’s tried to stay in touch, and I guess I can’t blame her, because she’s at least doing something.
I never know how to respond, what to say. My life isn’t interesting, and I don’t want all my conversations with her to be me complaining.
Staring at it for a moment, I decide to react with a thumbs-up emoji. Resting my phone over the edge of the table, I lean back and swipe out of our message thread to the inbox. There are a few other messages there I’ve been ignoring. Marked with ‘read’ from weeks or months ago.
Mostly people from my old workplace asking me how I’m doing. I can’t bring myself to respond, to even venture back into that reality I’ve been trying to erase. None of them were real friends, anyway. Coworkers. Acquaintances at best.
And I can’t get rid of the feeling that all they’re doing is fishing for information, for the spicy gossip they can spread in the office about the slutty omega who somehow seduced all those poor alphas and then caused so much trouble for them. After all, how could all those lovely gentlemen do something like that? I must have been lying. That’s what people whispered about. That’s what they were all thinking.
Maybe not all. But I couldn’t take being there and feeling like they were.
Gulping, I glance down at my stomach before looking around the room to remember where I am. Far, far away from all that. I remind myself how happy I am to be here. Remind myself that I’m safe.
You don’t have to think about all that. And you shouldn’t.
As a wave of heat, followed by a shiver, passes over me, I set my phone aside and shift uncomfortably in my chair. If only I could take a suppressant to help with this nonsense. The doctor gave me some in case it gets really uncomfortable for me, but she also encouraged me not to use them too often, for the baby’s safety.
I’ve already put them through enough.
Smiling softly, I look down. The little one is a fighter, but I just want them to be happy and safe. So I’ll have to push through. I can’t take more time off, or keep slacking because of my condition. I’m just some transfer. I need to prove myself instead of constantly being a burden. There’s only so far the favor from the agreement will take me. Especially if I want to work here long term.
The knock on the door startles me. With a sharp blink, I look up, my insides twisting.
“Y-yes?” I shout, straightening my back so I can see over my monitor.
When the door’s closed, this little room almost feels like its own universe. Dingy but quiet. Distant. I barely hear voices or steps outside of it. Dozens, hundreds of people in the building, and I can exist in peace. Until now.
Instead of a response, the door slowly opens, sending a weird sense of danger through me. Like someone’s entering my safe space. Pressing my lips into a tight line and swallowing the lump in my throat, I remind myself that this is a damn office and anyone can come and go as they please.
Yvana, an older woman from Design, pokes her head in, curly strands of shoulder-length hair falling ahead of her face. “Sorry to bother you, but can I poke around in your drawers? Something I need to get,” she says.
Without waiting for my response, she walks in. I guess she takes my exasperated silence as a yes. Lovely.
Not wanting to make waves, I force a polite smile on my lips and ignore how much her rudeness annoys me. She rushes to me, heels clacking against the floor, so I move away from the table. She bends down, rummaging through the drawers.
“This used to be where I worked sometimes when I had bad migraines,” she mutters, almost like she’s just talking to herself. “Before…you know, they put you here.” I can’t tell whether she sounds annoyed or if it’s just in my head.
To be fair, everything looked like it had sat here for a good while when I first came. Clearly, not even cleaners came around often, so I had to do a lot of wiping and dusting, otherwise I would’ve probably choked on all the grime. The drawers were full of random shit, but I tried to only throw away the actual trash.
“I didn’t move many things, I don’t think,” I say quietly as I tap my finger on the armrest of the office chair. Yvana doesn’t turn to me, just keeps going through the third drawer from the bottom, reaching all the way to the back, desperately looking for something.
She glances at me for a split second, with this weird fleeting expression like…I don’t know, like she expects me to say something, or do something, but when I don’t, she turns again. I guess most people would engage in small talk right now. Ask about her day or discuss the weather, like it matters or like they care… I never was one for that. Probably why I never had that many friends.
If Kristoff were here, he would definitely start mumbling about something. He’s good at coming up with random crap to chat about. Mindless, awkward, silly topics no one can get offended about.
He’s nice enough. Nothing wrong with him, but sometimes he won’t shut up.
When Yvana inches toward the top drawer, a rattle goes through me. I realize that Theo’s note, the one I should’ve crumpled and thrown into the trash, is right there, and for some reason, my stomach turns at the idea of her finding it.
Like it’s…what? Some kind of dirty secret?
It’s nothing. It means nothing.
“Ah,” she rejoices when she grabs something at the very back of the second drawer from the top. I barely hold in a sigh of relief when she pulls away, victoriously raising the little tattered notebook in her hand. “There it is. Thanks,” she says, flashing me a smile. She then stands up with a grunt.
That’s it? A little notebook? God, she could’ve just said.
“You’re welcome,” I say drily.
Glancing at me over her shoulder, Yvana nods and heads for the door. At least she decided that if I’m not trying to be friendly, neither will she. I prefer that much more than the other way around. The door closes behind her, sending a wave of fresh air into the room before it clicks shut.
Exhaling deeply, I lean over the table. “What the hell was that?” I ask myself out loud, looking down at the slightly open drawer. Lazily, I pull it out, and study the bright pink sticky note lying on top.
A faint, tingly sensation passes over me as I remember him from the cafeteria. His lively, wide smile and those attentive eyes that seemed to follow my every move.
The intense sort of attention I probably wouldn’t have minded before.
But now…things are different. That realization puts a bitter taste in my mouth.
I stare blankly at the ground beneath my feet. When I went to the first therapist after the assault, she would always say that healing isn’t linear, but it feels like instead of finding my way down a winding street back to the person I was, I’m on a completely separate track. I can see the old path beside me, and it calls out to me, all the while I’m painfully aware that it’s one I can no longer reach.
I am right here, away from it, and the scariest thing is that I have no idea where the one I am on presently leads. Does it go to the same destination? Will I really get back to the Sam I used to be, or will it diverge somewhere ahead and take me far away?
That thought scares me.
Even worse is the idea that I will forget the old Sam. That, like the faces and memories from my childhood, he will fade.
When I realized Theo was trying to flirt with me, it was like I was back on that original road for a moment. Before the uncertainty and fear came in, I was the old Sam—without baggage and trauma—who had a handsome, interested man in front of him and wanted to bask in that attention.
If only.
I know that sort of stuff is not for me anymore. After all, I’m about to be a parent. That should be my focus. That and fixing myself up. Whether I like it or not, no matter how much it hurts, I can’t be chasing after that past me, because I can never get him back…
Resting my head against my hand, I slide down in the chair. I close the drawer, getting the faintest whiff of that coconut smell as I do.
