He held a plate in each hand. Both loaded with some kind of chicken skillet dinner. He handed me a plate and studied me for a moment before shrugging and shaking his head.
“So nothing as far as you can tell. There’s got to be a reason, a connection to it all.” I sighed and played with the food on my plate for a minute, thinking.
“I’ve never told anyone all of this. People figure out there’s something different about me if they’re around me long enough. But no one knows about the lights. I’m torn. Do I call Sam and tell him everything? Do I tell him the light of the guy who challenged you is the same light as Joshua? There’s nothing concrete I can offer about the coloring or why I’m so worried about it.
“Why would a werewolf I’ve never met challenge you? And why does he share the same coloring as Joshua? So far, the lights have had a category: humans, werewolves, and compatible Mates. I don’t think the challenger and Joshua can be compatible Mates because Charlene and I are uniquely colored from each other.” I shook my head to try to clear away my frustration at my inability to solve the puzzle.
Taking my first bite, I struggled to swallow the cold food. I looked up at Clay in surprise and saw his empty plate.
“Bet you’re wishing you hadn’t asked.”
He shook his head slowly still watching me. I started to doubt the wisdom of sharing so much with him. What if he started to treat me differently? I didn’t want to lose his friendship. It devastated me to think I could lose the one person with which I might have had a chance to be myself. When he didn’t say anything, I forced myself to eat.
He waited until I finished eating, took both our plates, and cleaned up the kitchen while I sat at the table and did my homework. The spatter of running water, the soft clicking of dishes, none of it distracted me as much as my own doubts. Uncertainty over what I’d just shared and his lack of response ate at me. Granted, he hadn’t spoken to me at all before my announcement, but still.
When he finished, he left the room for a few minutes. His nails clicked on the kitchen floor as he padded back in. I didn’t have time to wonder why he’d changed to fur. He nudged my arm with his head and looked toward the living room. The tightness in my chest, which I hadn’t even noticed, loosened slightly. He watched me expectantly, and I ran my fingers through the fur at his neck, hoping he wouldn’t ever act like a real dog and run away from home.
Deciding I’d done enough, I packed up my homework and followed him. We watched some sitcoms then called it a night.
When he curled up on his usual spot at the foot of my bed, I sighed and closed my eyes. He hadn’t seemed to treat me any differently after I’d told him everything. I hoped it would stay that way.
Rachel came home after a very late evening shift at the hospital. I knew she was alone because Clay only shifted on the bed to acknowledge he’d heard something. The nights Peter stayed, Clay grumbled a bit. They probably did keep him awake. Poor Clay.
Chapter 13
September passed in a blur, taking most of October with it.
While on campus, I still struggled to fend off a few stragglers who hadn’t yet grasped the concept of no. Thankfully, those stragglers didn’t include Scott.
At home, Rachel and Peter were inseparable even though they made a big fuss about giving each other their own time. It just meant they only did overnights three times a week. It limited my quiet time with Clay, but we managed.
On Rachel nights, Clay-the-dog usually waited for me by the back door. Occasionally, I came home to an empty house. Those absences explained why he no longer consumed five books a week, but they did make me wonder how he spent his time when we weren’t together. When I tried to ask where he went, he never answered.
I began to notice things, though, like he now owned more jeans—I’d only bought him one pair—and had a few new shirts. Despite the extra clothes, he still seemed to favor the ones I’d gotten him, especially the flannel shirt.
On nights we didn’t expect Rachel home, Clay-the-man waited for me. He was never missing for those nights. Tuesdays, still one of the nights Rachel stayed over at Peter’s, Clay did laundry for me if I forgot to do it before then and always had dinner ready when I came home.
He still didn’t talk when he was in man-form, but I gradually learned more about him through many well-phrased questions. I guessed at his favorite color for over a minute. Pink...naturally. What guy wouldn’t have a feminine stereotyped color as a favorite? I gave up trying to guess why it was his favorite after twenty minutes.
I also found out he liked to try new foods and made it a point to bring home one unique food item each week. Fruits like pineapple and kiwi disappeared quickly. Vegetables like okra and Brussels sprouts...well, I laughed long and hard when I watched him eat those.
Besides the new clothes that he’d mysteriously acquired, I also came across his wallet on my dresser. Since he’d been crouched right behind me when I spotted it, I’d peeked inside. He could have barked or something to tell me to stop, but he didn’t.
The contents of his wallet had been informative. On his driver’s license, he looked just as scruffy—except with a clearer view of his eyes. I’d stared at that photo until his laughing penetrated my fascination.
Behind the license, I found a folded copy of his GED transcript. With a few questions, I discovered that his dad, now deceased, had taught him how to read at an early age. The education he’d received essentially comprised of home schooling. When I asked him how he managed to get his GED and a driver’s license without speaking, he stopped communicating with me for the night. Moody.
The glimpse at his eyes in the photo started me back on the “off with the beard” kick. His standard response was to bare his teeth. Darn canines. But, in a way, his consistent answer proved to me that telling him about my abilities had no noticeable effect on our relationship, other than to open a floodgate in me. I couldn’t seem to stop myself from sharing all the weird or exciting things that happened to me on campus—the only time he couldn’t shadow me.
When I talked, he sat and listened, always giving me his full attention. I’d grown so used to his attentiveness that he confused me one day when he abruptly walked away after I told him I’d been invited to a Halloween party.
I’d wanted to tell him more, like it was Nicole from my basic massage class who had asked me. Her reason for the invitation was pretty simple. A guy from our class, who she really liked, planned on attending, and she didn’t want to go alone. Everything in me had cringed at the idea of a party so I’d told her I’d never been to one because of the way guys acted around me. She’d admitted to noticing, but that didn’t change her insistence that I attend. Her acceptance of me felt good. Yet I had to point out the obvious. Having me along could back fire. The guy she liked could start bugging me again. He’d tried for the first two weeks of class before giving up. She didn’t care. She wanted the support.
However, after Clay walked away from me, I didn’t mention it again.
The last Saturday in October, I found myself getting ready for a party instead of studying.
Clay grumbled, making it pretty clear what he thought of me going. I’d borrowed some of his clothes, the stuff that would fit without falling off, and slicked back my hair under a ball cap. Then, I used some funky hair gel from Rachel to comb a portion of my hair to look like pork chop sideburns. While that dried, I began the process of penciling in some thick, manly eyebrows. Clay stood on the bed behind me so he could watch my progress in the mirror.
“What do you think?” I asked, turning to Clay.
He grumped again then jumped off the bed to leave. Obviously not a fan.