May the best queen win.
13. Ylfa
Acrowd chants outside, and my heart palpitates.
Shit. They’re getting louder by the second.
We’re preparing inside the tent assigned to us, and I have no idea what the day will bring. This is the first gathering I have ever been to after all, so it’s my first time at the games.
But I’m not the only one who’s nervous. It permeates the air of our tent, creating an interesting cocktail of aromas indeed. I detect Annabel’s bubble-gum scent, intermingled with Chelsea’s sharper spice. Then I make out Declan’s salty, bitter flavor, and then Tiff’s fiery hellfire. There’s Brent’s powerful, smoky musk, Hunter’s tempting chocolate, and last but not least, Patrick’s raging ocean storm.
He’s the most nervous of us all, and nothing we can do or say will cheer him up. He rests on a bench, his nails digging into the wood as his whole life flashes before his eyes.
My poor mate. I just wish I could ease the tension for him, but we have company. There’s a time and place, after all.
Hunter steps up beside him, offering him his waterskin. “Hear, have some water.”
Patrick’s blue eyes travel up to Hunter’s dark brown pair. “You promise it’s just water, and not... you know...”
The former ladies’ man chuckles pleasantly, then glances at Brent. The beta eyes him sharply. He warned Hunter, after all. No alcohol before the games. We need to be at our utmost health.
“Just water I’m afraid, Paddy. It may at least stave off some of the headache...”
That’s right. The two of them hadguy’snight last night. Hunter had to stay at our place in the end since they got so shit-faced. He passed out on the couch as I had to slap him awake this morning, and not just Hunter, but Patrick, too.
They both were pretty wrecked.
Males.
Brent did warn them, as he keeps repeating like the obnoxious asshole he is, and as a result, he lacks all sympathy for them. Not that he had much to begin with.
Patrick sighs and snatches the water from Hunter’s hand, then swings it back. When he’s finished, he hands it back to him, wiping his mouth as it all drips down his chin.
Hunter cocks a brow. “Better?”
Patrick nods. “No. Not really.”