"Is that why you called here, Emily—just to watch you lose all day?" Reyes asked, her gray eyes glinting teasing under the streetlamp glow, scarred jaw quirking as she glanced sideways.
Emily stood outside with them now, the evening chill nipping at 10 PM sharp—stars pricking the ink-black sky above the quiet road, distant traffic humming faint.
From morning they’d played nonstop—thanks to Emily—UNO, Jenga—towers toppled every ti on her turn, even charades where her dramatic flails earned laughs but zero points.
Every ga. Every single one. She’d cried for nearly an hour after the last wipeout, erald eyes puffy, her hairstyle were ruined from frustrated tug.
I lost! Every single ga! These two bullied without rcy!
"Reyes must have work tomorrow. We should let her go—I’m here, aren’t I?" Hellen cut in smooth from Emily’s left, blonde ponytail gleaming under the lamp, eyes narrowing possessively as she stepped closer, honey-citrus scent curling territorial.
"Emily has already paid for the day—fair’s fair," Reyes shot back even, brogues planted firm on the concrete, powerful fra unyielding—though her gaze softened tracing Emily’s olive-tanned arm.
Emily snarled low, fists balling at her sides, oversized t-shirt fluttering in the breeze. "Can you two please not fight every single ti? I’m tired of playing referee to your endless wars, okay? Just... truce." It was their hundredth fight which she had stopped. She wasn’t going to let her friends hate each other.
Both of them were her only friends.
"Sorry," Hellen murmured quick, her smirk fading sheepish, arm brushing Emily’s shoulder apologetic.
"I’m sorry too," Reyes added, cap tugged low, gloved hand flexing like she itched to pull Emily close. She had a genuine dislike for Hellen—which was reciprocated by that blonde-haired bitch.
"Look! I’m right there!" Emily chirped, pointing excited across the street—her massive billboard glowed vivid under floodlights—her in a sleek cat-ear headband and whisker makeup, erald eyes winking playful beside a fluffy tabby, Helly Paws logo blazing. "And there’s another one!" Down the block, a dog-thed shot—her cradling a golden retriever pup, tongue lolling, her grin radiant in pet couture.
I look really good! Sexy, cute—everything! Argh, why did I have to be a eunuch? Why couldn’t I be an alpha? Then I would have also shown my strength.
Hellen’s face darkened instant, ice-blue eyes storming; Reyes’ scarred jaw tightened, gray gaze hardening flinty—both alphas stiffening like coiled wires, pheromones clashing subtle in the night air.
"What happened? You both look like I announced a funeral," Emily pressed, head tilting, Bardot strands escaping to fra her puzzled pout.
"Nothing," Hellen drawled tight, ponytail twitching aggressive. She hated seeing Emily in the billboards, showcasing herself. The alpha in her really disliked that.
"Nothing," Reyes echoed clipped, brogues shifting restless. Her thoughts were similar to Hellen’s thought-process. But she didn’t dare to voice it.
"Why are you using the ’nothing’ word continuously like a broken record?" Emily huffed, arms crossing under her chest. "I have been hearing this word since the morning."
"I like that word—covers everything efficiently," Hellen quipped, forcing a smirk though her fists clenched faint. Her oga was a fool, but sotis she really did seem intelligent enough to capture sothing really unimportant.
" too—short, sweet, no drama," Reyes added, grin strained.
"Don’t tell , Reyes—you don’t like modelling too? First Hellen grumbles, now you?" Emily accused, her erald eyes narrowed, stepping back to scan their guilty faces.
"I am your bodyguard. So, it feels weird when people talk about you," Reyes said flatly, gray eyes flicking back to the billboards, scarred jaw set tight under the streetlamp’s glow. "They talk... weird things about you."
"That ans people like ," Emily shot back with a triumphant grin, erald eyes sparkling defiant, ruined Bardot ponytail swaying as she tossed her head.
"I don’t think you can stop her. I couldn’t," Hellen admitted with a wry smirk after, ponytail gleaming, gaze softening reluctant as she crossed her arms—honey-citrus scent easing fractional.
"That’s true!"
"Wait," Hellen said firmly, stepping in close. She made Emily stand still, fingers deftly gathering the raven strands—twisting them smooth into a fresh high ponytail, securing it neat with a quick scrunchie from Emily’s wrist. "There. Less recognizable now." Her ice-blue gaze lingered appreciative on the sleek new style, blonde ponytail mirroring Emily’s.
Reyes looked at the whole scene with jealousy but she couldn’t do a thing. Hairstyles weren’t her thing, especially with her short hair.
"You know a lot of oga things," smirked Reyes.
"Unlike you, I am more versatile. Emily wanted to change my hairstyle, and I did."
"But I have been seeing you in a ponytail these days."
Hellen’s face stiffened, while Reyes snickered. "You can’t stop her, can you?"
Emily nodded vigorous, chin lifting bossy, ponytail swishing fresh. "She is correct. No one can stop ." Her gaze drifted away toward the glowing food stalls lining the night market—sizzling woks flashing orange, pleasant aromas curling thick—chili oil pops, charred at smoke, vendor calls hawking spicy treats. "I am hungry, and it slls nice. Let’s eat sothing."
Without waiting, she snatched their hands impulsive—her small palm warm in Hellen’s callused grip, soft against Reyes’ gloved fingers—and tugged them forward through the crowd. They let her lead, brogues and heels thudding synced behind her petite fra, alpha possessiveness simring at their eyes.
"Uncle, I want chicken popcorn. Make it spicy—extra chili flakes!" Emily ordered cheerful at the first stall, leaning on tiptoes over the scarred wooden counter, oversized t-shirt brushing the edge.
The vendor’s eyes widened cartoonish, paan-stained grin splitting as he froze mid-toss. "You? Wait—I’ve seen you sowhere... right, the billboards! The cat girl, Helly Paws lady!" He jabbed a greasy finger skyward, voice booming vendor-loud, drawing nearby heads—phones whipping out for snaps.
Emily smiled, "Yes! I am that cat girl. Do you have a pet?"
"My daughter has a cat."
"Well, you should buy so clothes from our website. They are very cheap, long-lasting and fashionable."
"I will talk to my daughter about this."
"You should!"
Hellen’s face blanked, fists clenching invisible in her jacket pockets; Reyes’ expression smoothed neutral, but her cedar-steel pheromones spiked sour, gray stare boring into the uncle like sniper sights—both alphas radiating silent fury at the spotlight swarming their charge.
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