Addie (Pack of Misfits #1) - Raven Kennedy Page 0,9

gosh! You know what I just realized?” she asks excitedly.

I riffle through the clothes in my drawer and pull on some shorts and a tee before I hang my wet stuff up in the shower. “What?” I ask her, walking back into the bedroom.

“No more strict dress code! That means you can dye your hair like you’ve always wanted to,” she says excitedly.

She’s a hair stylist down at Cupid Cuts, so she comes home with a new hairdo about once a month. We’ve been talking about dyeing my hair fun colors since she first got here, but I’ve always had strict office jobs that disallowed it. My blonde hair is long, light, and naturally wavy. And aside from the occasional trim at the ends, completely untouched. I’ve been wanting a change, and now, it seems like I’ll finally get the chance.

A smile pulls at the side of my lips as I look over at her. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

She clasps her hands together hopefully. “Pastel unicorn hair?”

I nod. “Pastel motherfuckin’ unicorn hair.”

4

Addie

I manage to avoid telling Hugo that I got fired for five whole days.

I fully enjoy my reprieve from adulting for that entire span of time. Without a job, I don’t have to get up early, which means I don’t have to go to sleep early, which means I pretty much just end up binge watching Netflix on my laptop all night and stay in my pajamas all day. Day pajamas are awesome. No shoes, no bra, no pants, no probs. I’m living the dream.

My friend slash roommate doesn’t really agree, I guess, because on her way out to work this morning, Zoey took one look at the chip stains on my pillow and my sloppy appearance, and lovingly called me a hobo who needed to shower before she got home or she’d hose me down. I fell back asleep instead.

My lazy ass is snoring into my pillow when a loud banging rings out, jarring me awake. I shove the pillow over my head to drown it out, but the banging just continues. One thing about living in a warehouse, it’s not soundproof. Everything echoes.

I throw off the pillow and groan. Standing up, I wipe the drool from my chin and head for the door. I trip out of my room, slip down several steps of the stairs, and then drag myself to the front door, throwing it open with a scowl, ready to tell off whoever it is that woke me up. I hadn’t gone to sleep until four AM this morning, after a binge-fest of Schitt’s Creek, so I was planning on a solid thirteen-hour nap today.

But when I see that it’s Hugo, the alpha of my pack, standing there with his arms crossed, I quickly replace my scowl with a smile. “Oh. Hugo!”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even try that smiley shit on me,” Hugo says. “When were you gonna tell me you were held at gunpoint and robbed?”

Hugo is like a father to me, so I feel instantly chagrined. I look down and shuffle my feet. “I got fired. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me,” I mumble.

He snorts, and I peek up to look at him through my—admittedly crusty—lashes. Hugo is a big son of a bitch, and he has scars littering his exposed arms. He always wears a leather vest and blue jeans like he’s in some kind of biker gang, even though the closest he’s gotten to a bike is walking by the stationary one in the gym. He’s tough, rough around the edges, and he doesn’t take any shit, but he’s also fair and loyal as hell.

Hugo sets his heavy hand on my shoulder. “Now look here you little shit,” he says sternly. “I don’t give a fuck about the job, but if someone points a gun at a member of my pack, I need to know.”

I fake-punch him on the arm. “Aww, you’re getting all alpha-fatherly protective!” I tease.

He ignores my playful tone and studies me. “You okay, Addie?”

I drop the playfulness and nod seriously. “Yeah, peachy keen. No worries. I took the asshole down.”

He smirks and scratches the scruffy brown beard at his chin. “I heard. Guess those self-defense lessons you whined about really took.”

My lips curve. “Guess they did.”

I watch his eyes dart over my hair. “What the hell did you let Zoey do to you?”

I thread my pastel blue, pink, purple, green, and blonde hair through my fingers. “Isn’t it pretty?” I singsong.