Chapter Text
On the warmest morning of all time, Orm meets a complete asshole.
She doesn't realize it right away—at first, she just watches a beautiful stranger emerge from Freen’s car, symphonized by an eruption of giggles and gossip from her friends as they collectively ogle the unknown alpha.
“Who is that?” Sonya leans forward so far she almost falls off the pool chair, and only Film’s firm grasp on the back of her shirt saves her.
“One of Freen’s friends,” Becky answers, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “Lingling Kwong.”
“Are we supposed to know who that is?” Bonnie asks, just as Orm lowers her sunglasses for a better look.
Lingling Kwong has a sharp jawline, picture-perfect dark hair, and a smoldering gaze; her eyes lock briefly with Orm’s, and Orm may or may not swoon a little. Maybe.
“She and Freen work together,” Becky says. “Her parents love P’Ling. Honestly, if they both weren't alphas, they might have tried to get them married.”
Film sits up sharply as if an alarm has been rung. “Alphas can love other alphas,” she says. “It's outdated to think only omegas and alphas should get married to each other. You should tell them that.”
“She's not going to tell her future in-laws that,” Sonya snorts. “She wants them to root for her.”
Becky gives a huffy sigh. “They're not my future in-laws,” she says. “P’Freen doesn't feel that way about me.”
“Aw, don't lose hope Becky. We're all rooting for you,” Bonnie says. “You two would be so cute.”
“So would you and Emi,” Orm chimes in mischievously, and Bonnie frowns, then turns her head as if she didn't hear anything.
Weird, Orm thinks, but before she can probe the issue, Sonya redirects the conversation to Becky again.
“Hey, don't worry. One day, she won't see you as a friend,” Sonya says encouragingly. “Look at me! I got out of the friendzone.”
Every eye swivels back to the pool, where the “alpha side of the party” is still going strong; Namtan, Emi, and Lookmhee are all seemingly determined to outlast each other in the water. When Lookmhee sees them looking, she grins and waves a pool float in Sonya’s direction.
“She's so cute,” Orm says. “Like a little puppy.”
“At least one of us is happily in love,” Bonnie says wistfully. “Doesn't anyone have a single friend for me?”
“You can have Lingling Kwong,” Becky says, and everyone bursts into laughter.
Bonnie pouts. “I don't want Lingling Kwong. I'm still holding out hope for a real, sweep-me-off-my-feet type of romance.”
“Your options are very limited here,” Film remarks. “Unless you want N’Becky…”
“I'm not the one for her,” Bonnie says. “I'm not Freen Sarocha.”
“Can you shut up about—P’Freen!” Becky squeaks, just as Freen approaches (with Lingling close behind, Orm notes appreciatively). In a flurry, Becky shoves the drink in her hand into Film's, causing a scuffle as Film unsuccessfully tries not to spill the margarita everywhere.
Freen, presumably used to such behavior, only waits for silence before she says, “You remember P’Lingling, right?”
“Yes, of course.” Becky gives Lingling a wai in greeting. “Hi, P’Lingling. So nice to see you again.”
Lingling mirrors the wai. “Nice to see you,” she says.
Freen introduces her to everyone else, listing off Sonya, Bonnie, Film and Orm’s names as an afterthought. Orm barely has a chance to meet Lingling's eye again and offer a wai of her own before Freen moves on:
“Listen, do you mind if I move Lingling into my room? You can share with someone else, right?”
“Oh.” Becky’s shoulders droop a little. “Yeah, I…guess so.”
“You can share with me and Orm,” Film suggests.
“Yes, please share with them,” Bonnie agrees. “My room’s already too crowded.”
Film rolls her eyes. “I know you and Emi make Namtan sleep on the floor, so I don't see why you're complaining.”
“Well if you had let her sleep in your room…”
“No way,” Film says. “She lost rock paper scissors fair and square.”
Freen pointedly clears her throat. “Okay then. Do you want me to move your stuff?”
“We can help,” Orm says, trying to jump to her feet. Except, well, she is more so swaying to her feet— the two margaritas she has had are kicking in, and she almost falls over.
Almost, because Lingling Kwong is there. She catches Orm by her arm, gives her a silent once-over with those serious dark eyes, and then promptly lets go.
“Freen and I will take care of it,” Lingling says. “You’re drunk.”
“I am not,” Orm sputters, taken aback. “I'm just clumsy.”
“That's true, she is,” Sonya says, though she isn't very convincing in her fight for Orm’s honor, because all the while she is still staring dreamily at Lingling.
Lingling ignores her entirely. “I'm going to get a drink,” she tells Freen. “I'll meet you inside.” She ducks away without so much as a goodbye, and it cements Orm’s first impression of her: Lingling Kwong is rude, and she is judgemental. (And she is most definitely not that attractive anymore).
Sonya whistles lowly. “Wow, she's hot,” she says, apparently disagreeing with Orm in that regard. “Is she single?”
Bonnie leans over to flick Sonya’s forehead. “You are not single.”
“Ow!” Sonya flinches away. “I meant, for you. Oh!” She twists around, zeroing in on Orm as if struck by lightning. “Or Orm. Hey, when's the last time you went on a date, Orm?”
“I go on dates,” Orm says defensively. “I've just been busy with work. And stuff.”
“Which means you probably haven't been laid in, like, forever,” Sonya says without a lick of shame. “P’Freen, tell us. Is Lingling Kwong single? And is she into women?”
At this point, Freen looks like she regrets not leaving with Lingling. “I think she's single. I don't know.”
“Well, who would be more her type? Orm or Bonnie?”
“I don't…know,” Freen says. “Uh, I'm going to go help her find the drinks.” She hurries away before Sonya can get another question in, and Sonya dejectedly falls back onto her chair.
“How am I supposed to be a matchmaker with so little information?”
“This is a birthday party, not a dating show,” Film reminds her flatly. “N’Becky, what else does Freen have planned?”
“Probably just dinner,” Becky says. “She wanted to grill, but I don't know—it looks like it might rain.”
“Hopefully it doesn't. I'm enjoying the show,” Sonya says, fanning herself as the alphas in the pool start trying to out-flex each other.
Orm shakes her head. “I'm going to get water,” she announces. “Does anyone else want anything?”
“I’ll come with you,” Film says, giving Becky an affectionate side-eye as she makes a show of gesturing to the margarita stains on her clothes. “I want to wash up.”
Heading inside Freen’s family home is a welcome reprieve from the thick, humid August air. Orm sticks her head into the fridge with a deep sigh; Film wets a towel at the kitchen sink and tries in vain to get rid of the sticky margarita mess all over her shorts.
Freen and Lingling are obviously moving Becky’s things into Orm and Film’s room, the one closest to the kitchen—their muffled voices ring out through the thin hum of the air conditioning and the occasional thump of bags.
“—now that you're here,” Freen is saying. “Namtan is going to want to gamble, so if you want to pretend you have a headache to get out of it, I won't blame you.”
Lingling gives a soft laugh in response. “I don't mind.”
“Becky’s friends probably won't join, but just in case,” Freen sighs, “I…should probably warn you. They were asking if you were single.”
A beat. “Why?”
“I don't know. Apparently Orm hasn't been on a date in forever, or something.”
Orm chokes on nothing, giving Film a wide-eyed, incredulous stare. Film meets her stare head-on, eyebrows raising with an equally disbelieving expression.
“Orm…the tall one?” Lingling asks, and when Freen hums affirmatively, there's another beat of silence. Then: “Well I hope she doesn't expect me to take her on a date.”
Orm’s jaw drops. What the fuck?
The sound of more bags shifting briefly drowns out their conversation a little, but after the final thump of what sounds like the bed shifting, Orm catches another bit from the oh-so-charming Lingling Kwong:
“—not my type.”
“I figured,” Freen says. “Okay, seems like this is all of it. Do you want a glass of wine or something?”
Film quickly drops her towel in order to yank Orm away, lest they be caught eavesdropping. Orm doesn't have that much sense; she is fuming, and she wants to march over and give Lingling Kwong a piece of her mind. How dare she presume that Orm wants to date her? As if she is some big catch?
“Orm,” Film whispers urgently as she tugs her back outside. “Don’t listen to her. She should be so lucky!”
“Right!” Still, Orm’s ego is a little bruised, and her confidence is halfhearted at best. “What an asshole.”
“Exactly,” Film agrees. “Come on. Let's see if the girls want to get back in the water. I think some volleyball will fix everything.”
Orm is possibly the least athletic person in the world, but she lets Film run with the idea. Personally, Orm would much rather be tanning poolside or drinking a third round of margaritas, but unfortunately, the other girls are down with Film’s plan.
“I want Mhee on my team,” Sonya says, wrapping her arms around Lookmhee’s neck as she slips back into the water.
“Aw, boo,” Namtan says. “What about alphas versus omegas?”
“Oh, you wish,” Film says, sitting on the edge just to dip her feet. “We would destroy you.”
“Promise?” Namtan swims over to her, grinning shamelessly, and Film kicks up water into her face.
“Can I be your cheerleader?” Orm asks. “I'm really good at cheering.”
“You don’t want to play?” Emi says. “You can join our team.” She slings an arm around Namtan’s shoulders, effectively dunking Namtan in the water as she yelps.
Orm stifles a laugh. “I’ll leave Film to tame you two,” she says, and when Freen and Lingling emerge from inside, they arrive just in time to see Namtan take her revenge by shoving Emi’s head fully underwater.
“P’Freen!” Becky shouts. “Are you going to get in the pool? Everyone’s playing volleyball.”
“No, I’ll watch,” Freen declines. “Does anyone want wine?” She holds up a bottle and a stack of plastic cups, so pool volleyball is briefly delayed in the interest of pre-gaming.
Lingling, Orm notices, hovers at the back of the group with her own cup but doesn't make any effort to join the conversation. Sure, the topic at hand (Sonya’s recounting of the last time she got wine-drunk and tried to adopt a feral cat) may not be the most interesting thing in the world, but at least everyone pretends.
“Do you have any pets, P’Lingling?” Sonya suddenly asks, mischievously, and Orm just knows she is up to no good.
With every eye turning to face her, Lingling looks immediately uncomfortable. “I have two dogs,” she replies slowly.
“Are they friendly?” Sonya says. “Like…would they get along with a fluffy Pomeranian for example?”
Orm chokes on her wine. Film, bless her, quickly comes to her aid by changing the subject entirely:
“Hey, what happened to volleyball? We should get started.”
Thankfully, the change of subject works. Sonya, Lookmhee, and Film form one team while Emi, Bonnie, and Namtan form another. Becky insists on being a referee, and makes Freen sit beside her on a lounge chair so they can judge everyone (her words).
That leaves Orm stuck alone with Lingling Kwong. What a joy. (Not).
“You don’t like to get in the water?” Orm tries to make conversation, just to be nice. And to let the record show she is not an asshole.
“Not really,” Lingling says, still nursing her cup of wine and standing awkwardly like an NPC in a video game. She takes a sip, then gives Orm a sideways look. “Do you?”
“Nah. I burn easy,” Orm says. “I’m just here for the vibes.” She tugs her oversized T-shirt over her head to reveal her bikini, and takes great pleasure in the way Lingling’s eyes widen just a fraction before she hastily averts her gaze. Smugly, Orm takes a seat in the chair next to Freen and Becky’s, satisfied with having made Lingling eat her words. Not her type, pft. As if.
Drunk volleyball turns out to be very entertaining to watch, once Orm doesn’t have to play. She and Becky take turns cheering on each team, and Freen winces when their shouts get loud but never complains.
In fact, Orm notices, Freen doesn't complain about anything when it comes to Becky. Not when Becky swings her legs over Freen’s lap, not when Becky steals Freen’s cup to drink her wine, and not when Becky’s hair ends up in Freen’s face as she leans forward to yell. Interesting.
The sky begins to grow darker as the game progresses, and rain begins to pour before long—an inevitability, but disappointing nonetheless. Becky shrieks loud enough to make everyone wince when the first drops of water hit, and the birthday girl ultimately declares they need to move the party inside (probably because she can’t handle more screaming in her ear).
“There’s a vendor down the street,” Freen says, once everyone is dripping all over the kitchen floor and throwing towels at each other. “We can just walk and get food.”
“In the rain?” Bonnie says.
“I'm sure we can find umbrellas somewhere,” Film says, while throwing a towel over Namtan’s head.
Orm shivers as she dabs at her own head; the overhead fan has left the room quite chilly. Before she can move to wrap her towel around her shoulders, a warm hand suddenly brushes against her forearm.
Lingling Kwong is standing there when Orm turns around, and she's holding out a hoodie, her expression unsure as if Orm was the one trying to get her attention. “Here,” she says.
Orm gives her a quizzical once-over. “That's not my sweater.”
“It's mine,” Lingling says, and she doesn't wait for Orm to say anything else before she thrusts it into her hands.
Orm watches Lingling walk away, suspicious, but the hoodie is thick and warm and Orm shrugs it on anyway. It smells nice—earthy but clean—and Orm sniffs the sleeve without realizing the scent she's admiring is just Lingling’s alpha pheromones.
Lingling doesn't move to warm up herself, just waits for Freen to rustle up some umbrellas before they head out to hunt down dinner. Freen insists she and Lingling don't need any extra help, but Becky tags along anyway.
Bonnie turns on music while they wait, declaring that the party is in dire need of karaoke. “I'm going to serenade the love of my life,” she says, and after a dramatic pause finishes with: “Alcohol.”
Namtan cracks up, and Film smacks her on the forehead without missing a beat. Bonnie ignores the heckling from everyone, completely in her own world as she starts crooning Ariana Grande entirely off-beat and slightly off-key.
Orm nabs a seat by the kitchen island, sits with her knees up on the chair (secretly inhaling the scent of the hoodie ever so often). Emi sides up beside her to grab a water bottle, and asks,
“So are you going to sing?”
“Nope, not me,” Orm says, guiltily trying to hide her blush of being caught mid-sniff. “But I think you should.”
“You don't want to do a duet with me?” When Emi smiles teasingly, her whole face lights up with mischief. “I can bring my guitar.”
“Ah ah ah, don't try to be charming. It won't work,” Orm says. “I'm immune to your handsome-ness.”
“Okay,” Emi laughs shyly, like she's not sure how to respond. “We should get more drinks. Do you want another drink?”
“Yes please,” Orm says, clasping her hands together pleadingly. “But not wine. I don't know how P’Freen drinks that—it's so bitter.”
“I’ll make you something,” Emi says, sweeping her hair behind her ears determinedly as she reaches for the blender, and Orm thinks it really can't get better than this: hanging out with her friends, mixing atrocious drinks, even listening to Namtan and Lookhmee shout at each other over the microphone as they fight over what song to sing.
Orm is getting tipsy again, fast, and when dinner is finally delivered it feels like she’s never eaten before in her life. Everyone tears into grilled chicken, papaya salad, rice noodles; Orm doesn’t even like noodles usually, but today they’re the best thing she’s ever tasted.
Even Lingling Kwong sitting beside her at the table (an unfortunate arrangement which Sonya definitely had something to do with), can’t ruin Orm’s mojo. Lingling doesn’t talk much during dinner, but keeps slipping pieces of chicken onto Orm’s plate without saying a word.
“You know,” Orm says finally, “you’re really quiet.”
Lingling glances up from her own plate, blinks blankly at Orm. “I guess so.”
“Are you this quiet with Freen too?” Orm asks.
“No.” Lingling doesn’t offer anything else, and Orm sighs.
Though no one will say it out loud, Orm knows every one of her friends is practically paired off already. Obviously Sonya and Lookhmee are the only ones dating, but everyone else might as well be taken. Becky and Freen are dancing around their best-friends-to-lovers era, Film and Namtan have an enemies-to-lovers arc going on, and Bonnie and Emi are suspiciously close enough that Orm knows they have to have something there. Bonnie might not see it, and Emi’s hard to read, but Orm is totally connecting the dots.
That means Orm’s only hope for company this weekend might as well be Lingling Kwong, an antisocial alpha who apparently finds her repulsive. But also, who seems just fine with Orm wearing her hoodie, and eating the food off her plate; she’s confusing, to say the least.
“What’s next, birthday girl?” Namtan asks loudly, as she tries to steal the chicken skin off Film’s plate (and Film slaps her hand away without missing a beat). “Want to play Makruk?”
Freen shrugs her shoulders. “If you want,” she says. “We can put on a movie or something too.”
“Ooh, yes,” Becky says, leaning on Freen’s arm. “A Disney movie?”
Orm pushes her last few bites around her plate as Freen says yes and Sonya says no, and while everyone jumps into a debate, Orm feels…suddenly sleepy. She pulls her hoodie tighter, then freezes when she remembers who it belongs to.
“Do you want your sweater back?” Orm asks, twisting sideways to peer at Lingling hesitantly.
But oddly enough, Lingling shakes her head. “You can keep it,” she says. “You looked cold.”
“It is cold. Aren't you cold?” Orm says. “I don't know how Freen lives like this.”
Another shake of her head. “I'm fine,” Lingling says, infuriatingly calm. “I run warm.”
Orm rolls her eyes and turns back to her plate. Let the world's most boring conversationalist keep herself company if she's not going to bother to feign interest.
Everyone eventually clears up, and while the alphas split off to play Makruk and Becky drags everyone else to watch Toy Story, Orm begs off to go to sleep. There's a symphony of boos and teasing, but Orm sticks her tongue out at her friends and declares she will not be persuaded otherwise.
She shrugs off Lingling’s sweater once she is alone in her room, but the instant she puts it down, she immediately wants to pick it up again. She tells herself it's just because the fabric is soft, and has absolutely nothing to do with that intoxicating scent still clinging to the sleeves.
Absolutely not.