“Actually, let’s keep a shopping list on my dresser. When you think of something, you can add to it so I know what to get without guessing.” Maybe writing fell into the talking category, and I’d be out of luck there, too.
I ate the majority of the food on my plate then brought it to the sink. Not wanting to risk him going back to his fur just yet, I grabbed my messenger bag and sat at the table to work on homework while he finished his meal. I usually did homework the same day and left the bigger projects and in-depth studying for the weekend, if needed.
“If you want, when you’re done, we can watch a movie,” I said.
He shrugged and moved to clean up his plate. I hopped up to help, but he motioned me back to the table, pointing to the open book. I sat and read while listening to him move about the kitchen.
As soon as he washed the stove, I packed up my homework for the night. He wiped down the table, and I hovered with my bag over my shoulder. I did not want to put it away and give him the opportunity to change again. When he had everything clean and the dishrag rinsed, he walked into the living room. I followed him and sat on the couch.
He bent to the cabinet below the TV and picked the movie for the night. A suspense.
“If I scream again when Rachel comes home, no laughing,” I said as I curled on the couch and waited for him to start the movie.
A strong wind blew outside, and the curtains moved slightly. Considering where I lived, it seemed pointless to dread the cold, but I did. Soon I would probably start to consider wearing snow pants just to walk to the car. I gave the fluttering curtain one last glare and turned my attention to the movie as Clay settled next to me.
This time, I didn’t feel so nervous and actually concentrated on the movie. Clay never twitched, but I jumped twice within the first ten minutes.
The temperature in the room dropped to the point that I ran to get a hoodie during a suspenseful scene. Thankfully, Clay didn’t pause the movie for me.
By the time the movie ended, the wind really howled outside. I sat on my fingers in an effort to warm them and knew it would be a long wait until the first of November.
“Hey, Clay. Do you like cookies?” I sprang from the couch and moved toward the kitchen. I could bake cookies to heat the house, and Rachel couldn’t scold me for turning on the heat.
I rummaged through the cupboard, and I saw we didn’t have any of the main ingredients. No sugar of any kind or flour.
“Shoot,” I grumbled.
I had splurged and bought Clay clothes, something I considered a necessity. Along with many of the other unplanned expenses, it set me behind in my budget. Keeping the heat off longer would help make some of it up. But that meant no frivolous spending, not even for ingredients to bake cookies to warm the house.
I closed the doors and turned to tell Clay the disappointing news. Instead of staying in the living room as I’d thought, he stood right behind me. All that came out was a strangled “gah.” He flashed a smile so wide that I saw teeth and couldn’t help but smile back.
“Har-har. I told you no suspense movies. Life is scary enough without them. Oh, and false alarm on the cookies. We’re missing some main ingredients.”
He picked up my car keys and dangled them in front of me.
“It’s tempting, but unless I want to get a part-time job, I can’t afford to keep spending the money I’ve saved. I’ve got to stick to the budget so it lasts through till spring. If we can manage to keep the heat off until November, I should have cookie money for Christmas. That’s when cookies are best, anyhow. I’ll just need to start wearing more clothes inside.”
I took the keys from him and put them back in the dish on the counter. When I turned, Clay wasn’t looking at me, but off to the side. I tried to follow his gaze, but he didn’t seem to be looking at anything. Shrugging, I left him to his own thoughts.
“I think I’m going to bed.” I almost asked if he would come with, but didn’t know how to word it so I would be asking Clay-the-dog not Clay-the-man. As a result, I went to my room alone.
Not long after, I heard him enter; and I wondered what I’d do if he tried to climb into bed with me as a man. I anxiously listened to the rustle of his clothes as he removed them. The quick pounce on the end of the bed told me Clay had once again become my personal foot warmer.
Chapter 12
On Tuesdays, my first class started later. It gave me time to catch up on things around the house. After falling behind on laundry once, I made a point to wash at least one load each Tuesday.
Clay padded softly behind me, following me down into the basement as I carried a basket of our combined clothes. I teased him that the discount detergent I’d purchased smelled like babies—not very manly. He chuffed out a laugh and watched me fill the machine. Nothing I did seemed very exciting to me, but he followed me as faithfully as a real dog would.
After I finished, he trailed behind me as I skipped back up the stairs. The closed basement door silenced the whir of the washer.
I moved to the bedroom and pulled the sheets from my bed to start making a pile for the next load. While I worked, I told Clay about what we’d covered in my classes so far. He sat off to the side, out of the way, but I could tell he listened by the tilt of his head. Glancing at the clock, I groaned at the time, called goodbye to Clay with a promise to see him at dinner, and ran out the door.
Not only did I like Tuesdays because of the delayed start, but also because Tuesday nights Rachel spent time with Peter. It gave me the house to myself. Well, and Clay, too, but she didn’t know that. I looked forward to dinners with Clay since it meant spending time with him as a man.
I rushed to the car. The door protested loudly when I yanked it open. I tossed my bag in, closed the door, started the engine, and thought of Rachel as I backed out of the driveway.
Rachel and Peter’s growing relationship made the increasingly frequent dinners with Clay possible. She hadn’t come home last night and probably wouldn’t come home tonight as well. It amazed me to see two people so meant for each other. When I focused on them, their lights, the essence of who they were, pulsed in harmony.
Although I’d never stopped wondering why I saw the lights, learning werewolves existed had tempered my need for answers. After all, if a completely different species could evolve unknown to the rest of the world, why couldn’t one girl develop a uniquely strange ability? Oh, I still believed my ability to see the sparks served some purpose I hadn’t yet identified, but I no longer actively searched for answers.
Before meeting Sam, I’d volunteered at the hospital, thinking I’d learn to use my ability to identify different illnesses. But no matter the patient or their illness, I always saw the same yellow-green color. However, because of my time at the hospital, I’d found what I wanted to do with my life. Massage therapy had benefited some of the elderly patients with whom I really liked working.
With a few minutes to spare, I pulled into the student parking lot, grabbed my things, and started the walk across campus. Students milled around outside a few of the buildings or purposefully strode the sidewalks, like me, to get to their next class.
Someone called my name. I stopped and saw Scott cutting across the dying grass. He jogged to meet me on the sidewalk.
“I think we should start drawing straws or something,” he said when he reached me.
“What do you mean?” I shifted my messenger bag, eager to get to my class. Telling someone no only worked as long as I didn’t send any cross-signals, and a long conversation definitely qualified as a cross-signal.
“Peter and Rachel. We should draw straws to see who has to put up with the lovebirds. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” He rolled his eyes, and I noted the dark circles under them.