Ordinary Girl

Author’s Note Dear Readers, I’m excited to present my newest book, which is a work in progress.  Before you start to read, I want to forewarn you that this book is intended for a mature audience, and IS polyamorous.  Thank you so much for reading, and I look forward to hearing your comments and suggestions on this story!  I appreciate you!  ~ Maureen   Gillian   “George,” I groan, and throw myself down on the couch with my head in his lap.  My brother merely grunts and adjusts himself so that he can continue reading his book.  I’m worried about him.  Heck, I’m worried about myself too.  We are about to celebrate our 23rd birthday, and we still haven’t found our mate.  I think it starting to effect us, mentally and physically.  George seems to becoming more silent and more withdrawn.  And me?  I feel like I’m becoming more bitchy and irritable.  It’s like having PMS day in and day out.  Neither of us are excited about this birthday party, but we have to go, because our pack wants to celebrate with us. I remember when we turned 18.  We were so excited, so sure that we would find them immediately.  We cleaned out our closet to make room, and we bought new sheets for the big bed.  We were seniors in high-school then, and we practically ran into the school, sniffing the air in anticipation.  But… nothing.  The kids we had grown up with were still the same kids.  Nothing magical happened.  We went through the day, and all the days that followed in a mild state of disappointment.  After graduation we started looking farther abroad.  We attended every stupid function in the area, the summits, the dances, the parties, just on the off chance that we would find a mate there. I think George is starting to give up.  He doesn’t talk about it any more.  He buries himself in work and books and training.  I feel his pain.  I mean, literally.  People have always thought we were exaggerating the twin-bond.  They say that only identical twins can be that connected.  But George and I have been inseparable since birth.  I can’t stand to be away from him, and vice versa.  We have shared everything, starting from our mother’s womb, right up to the title of Alpha.  Some of the Elder’s said that I should be the sole Alpha, because I was born first.  Some other’s said it should be George, just because he has a p***s.  But George and I knew that we were meant to share it together.  We are like yin and yang, we balance each-other out.  That’s why I was always sure we would share one mate together.  I was also pretty sure that it would be a woman.  I mean, I could go either way, but I’m not all that into guys, and neither is George.  George snapped his book shut.  “I don’t want to do this party.” “Me  neither.” But we had a duty to our pack.  Our pack wasn’t the biggest, or the strongest, but we were a solid, tight knit family.  We loved them, and they loved us, that’s why celebrating our birthday together was kind of a big deal.  So after moping for a few more minutes, George got off the couch and dressed up in a tux, and I went to pull on a bright red party dress.  George looks a little awkward in his tux.  He’s big and muscled, and even though the clothes have been custom tailored for his broad shoulders, he still looks a bit uncomfortable.  His biceps are straining the sleeves, and he always tugs at his collar like its choking him.  He runs a brush through his hair, and ties it back in a pony tail.  His hair is almost as long as mine, and is kind of wild and untamed.  It suits him. I look at myself in the mirror as I put in my gold hoop earrings.  I am really just a more feminine version of George.  A bit tall for a woman, lean, strong.  I’ve never cared too much about my looks, but I think I’m okay.  I’m not butt ugly or anything, and I have pretty grey-green eyes, just like George.  I pull my hair up into a casual and easy up-do and pronounce myself done.  “Alright,” I said, emerging from the bathroom, “Lets get this party started.” We go down to the party, where guests are already piling into the big pack house.  We know the drill, as we’ve done this countless times.  Sip at a drink, mingle, have a mini-conversation with as many people as you can, thank everyone for coming.  The omegas had cooked up a small feast, and I was frankly  more interested in the food than anything.  I fill up a plate and retreat to a corner and let George take over the social duties.  George is awesome.  Even though he’s really the strong, silent type, when its required he can plaster on the most charming smile and make everyone feel welcomed and at ease.  I watch him go around the room and work the crowd, and I can’t help but notice the way that women gravitate toward him, the way their eyes shine with longing and the way their gazes linger on him long after he has moved on.  I want to laugh at them and say, “Sorry ladies, you are barking up the wrong tree.”  George had fooled around a bit when we were younger, but he soon grew bored, and in the last couple of years he had little interest in any romantic relationship. The omegas had made our favorite coconut cake.  Everyone sang a loud and off-key version of happy birthday as the dessert was lit up with 23 candles.  “Make a wish!” people shouted.  I slipped my hand inside of George’s and met his eyes for a moment.  I know we were both wishing for the same thing.  We needed our mate.  I closed my eyes and blew out the candles in tandem with my brother.