Hope(less) (21 page)

“Is this something you don’t want to talk about?”  Typically,
when he walked away, it meant the end of the conversation.  But he’d made me really
curious.

He shrugged.  Okay.  Not a closed topic.

“Is it something I need to guess or can you explain it to
me?”  I felt like I played the twenty questions game.

He turned to study me for a moment, and then went back to
washing his plate and fork.  Taking the hint, I cleaned up my place while he moved
to clean off the stove.  Drying my plate, I tried to figure out what to ask
next.  Yes, no, questions only.  It would help if I knew if they stayed like
that all the time, but he hadn’t answered that question.  Perhaps asking about
them embarrassed him.  When he returned to the sink, I briefly thought of
letting the subject drop, but his body language made me reconsider.

Arms crossed, leaning against the kitchen sink close to me, he
studied me.  Not just looking at me, but studying all of me as if he weighed a
decision.  I couldn’t help but look back.  Standing just a few inches apart,
the close proximity brought the corded muscles under his snug t-shirt to my
attention.  Downright drool worthy.  Giving no indication of my thoughts, I
considered reaching out to touch him.  Just to see how he felt without fur. 
But his possible reaction stopped me.  I meant what I’d said to Rachel.  Clay
didn’t act like other guys… yet.  I didn’t want to push my luck.

With a sigh, he uncrossed his arms and leaned forward.  His
movement shot a wave of panic straight through me and I froze.  Had he caught me
eyeing him up?  Did he think that meant I wanted him to try to kiss me?  I didn’t
know what to do.

The moment he smelled my fear he pulled back, shaking his
head slowly.

I could read his disappointment from his body language.  He
didn’t completely move away, just back enough that I no longer freaked out.  I
caught the glint of his eyes behind his long hair.  Calm.  Patient.  So not
about a kiss.  Then what?

“You’re trying to explain the teeth, right?”  I sounded
pathetic, like a child needing reassurance.  I tried not to fidget on top of that.

He gave me the reassurance I needed anyway in one of his
rare nods.

Okay.  No kissing.  Just him moving closer.  He slept at the
foot of my bed.  No big deal.  But he had fur on when he did that.  Now he
looked…  I eyed him again.  My stomach did a funny flip.  Maybe my fear wasn’t
about his reaction, but mine.  Control.  I took a deep breath.

“It’s okay then.  Go ahead, explain.”  I waved him back over
and he moved closer.  “I’ll behave,” I promised quietly.  I saw his mustache
twitch with a quick smile.  The canines explained some of the facial hair, but
the full-bearded crazy man look seemed overkill.

Slowly ducking his head, he moved in again.  I pushed the
fear back and held still.  Keeping his hands loose at his sides, he continued
his slow approach until his whiskers tickled the side of my neck and collarbone. 
There he paused and inhaled deeply.  His warm exhale sent goose bumps
skittering over my arms.

As soon as he inhaled, I knew what he did and though I
didn’t move, fear blossomed.  Heart pounding, eyes wide, I waited for him to
finish scenting me as a werewolf would a potential mate, not a distant inhale,
but an up-close sample of my scent, infinitely more potent.  Bracing myself,
anticipating some type of slip in his highly praised control, he merely leisurely
inhaled once more and then slowly lifted his head, exhaling as he went.

With his face still inches from mine, he displayed his teeth
again.  The canines had grown even more pronounced, the surrounding gums
swollen from their thickness.

I didn’t know what to say.  He had canines when in his human
form because of me.  “So, when you’re around me, they’re worse?  I guess that
means they’re like that all the time.”

He shrugged and casually took a step back.  I was unsure
what the shrug meant.  We both heard a car pulling into the driveway.  Questioning
him further would have to wait.  Thinking of the rest of the new clothes still on
the bathroom floor, I moved away from him saying, “I got to move your clothes. 
I’ll be right back.”

When I casually strolled back into the kitchen, Rachel knelt
petting Clay-the-dog and asked me why we had a man’s clothes on the kitchen chair. 
Clay impassively met my gaze.  Darn him.  Why hadn’t he just stayed Clay-the-man?

“Clay stopped by and fixed the sink.  He figured he would
leave a change of clothes, because of last night,” I lamely explained. 
Thankfully, Rachel focused on the fixed plumbing rather than the fact I had a
man leaving clothes behind at our house.

“The sinks working?  And for free…  Does he know anything
about weatherproofing?  I just heard the weather report and we’re going to get
a cold snap this week.  Frost.”

I shrugged, feeling very Clayish, and grabbed the clothes.  As
I walked from the room to put them away, she continued to talk to Clay using her
normal nonsense babble.  He was such a good boy and so handsome.  Did I treat
him well while she was gone?  Did he want a treat?  I sniggered and sat on the
couch after putting the clothes away, leaving Clay to his torture.

Done with her affectionate praise, she released him.  He
trotted from the kitchen and joined me in the living room.  She went to her
room to change, leaving her door open to talk to me.  “With past roommates, we
always tried to make it to November first before turning on the heat.  It saves
us a bunch of money.  The landlord did replace the storm windows this year,
which helped a little so it shouldn’t cost as much to heat.  But if you’re game
for trying to save more, I’d like to hold off on the heat.”

“That’s fine by me,” I agreed.  Sitting on the couch, I looked
at Clay who lay near.  “Know how to caulk a window?” I whispered.

“What?”  Rachel asked from her room.

“Nothing, just talking to Clay.”

*    *    *    *

The rest of the weekend passed like the one before with studying
and turning pages for Clay-the-dog. Although I still wanted to know about his pronounced
teeth in man form, I couldn’t come up with any reason to ask him to shift. 
When I tried asking him about his teeth while he wore his fur, he just walked
away from me.  I couldn’t tell if he did that because he was moody or just
bored with my conversation.

Monday night, I got home and Clay stood in the kitchen
cooking dinner for two.  I had to suppress the happy-dance I wanted to do and
instead nonchalantly walked in by him.  A note on the table from Rachel
explained his presence.  She had gone out with Peter and would be back late. 
The note stressed alone.

I’d thought of several questions to ask him, starting with
his teeth, and hoped he wouldn’t get annoyed and go fur on me again.  I decided
to ease him into my agenda.

“Wow, I didn’t know you cooked.  It smells great.”  I set my
messenger bag on a chair and hovered behind him watching him work.  He pulled
two baked potatoes from the oven.  To the side he had chicken resting with corn
already on plates.  Seeing dinner almost ready, I grabbed flatware for us and
sat down.

“So, other than cooking, how did you keep yourself busy
today?”

He set a plate in front of me, sat down himself, and then pointed
to the last batch of books I’d brought home.  They waited piled neatly on the
table between us.

“You read them all already?”

He nodded.

Across from him in the quiet of the cozy kitchen, I sat in
stunned silence for a moment.  “That’s a lot to read in just five days.  Are
you skipping chapters?” I teased.  He just glanced up at me briefly and then
back down at his food.  Maybe I needed to work on my teasing skills.  I
supposed smiling would better indicate my humor.

“So, about the beard… are your teeth ready to play nice?” 
That got an actual laugh from him.  A short one, but still very nice.

“Does that mean we can trim your beard?” I asked excited by
the prospect.  The scissors would also make a beeline for his hair.  How could
I read his face when he kept it so hidden?  Since he didn’t actually speak, it
hindered our communication even further.

He shook his head and my face fell.  I looked back down at
my plate feeling silly for the stab of disappointment I felt just because I wouldn’t
get to see more of his face tonight.  Lost in my own thoughts, it took me a
second to realize he’d stopped eating.  He leaned back in his chair studying
me.

Pretending not to notice, I gave him a slight smile and complimented
him again on dinner.  “This tastes great.  Thank you for cooking.  Do you have
a favorite food?  I can put it on the next shopping list.”  For a change, I
kept my thoughts to myself.

He watched me for another minute as I ate.  I tried not to
let my face show anything I felt, tucking away the disappointment and
annoyance.  It didn’t do any good to feel either toward him.  But it sure made
it hard to enjoy the food.  I pushed a few bites around on my plate before he finally
uncrossed his arms and picked his fork back up to start eating again.

“Actually,” I continued, “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 and 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 day it was assigned, leaving 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
offered.

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.  Resuming
my seat, I read while listening to him move about the kitchen as he put
everything away.

While 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 leave him 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, curling on the couch waiting for him to start the movie.

The window behind the couch rattled as a strong wind blew. 
Wind pushed its way through, making the curtains move slightly.  Considering
where I lived, it seemed pointless to dread the cold, but I did.  Soon I would probably
start considering wearing snow pants just to walk to the car.  Giving the
fluttering curtain one last glare, I turned my attention toward 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.

By the time the movie ended, the wind really howled outside
and the temperature in the room had dropped to the point that I’d run to get a
hoodie during a suspenseful scene.  Thankfully, Clay didn’t pause the movie for
me.

Sitting on my fingers in an effort to warm them, I couldn’t wait
until the first.  I still had a long way to go until we turned on the heat.

“Hey Clay,” I said suddenly inspired by an idea.  I sprang
from the couch and moved toward the kitchen.  “Do you like cookies?”  I could
bake cookies to heat the house and Rachel couldn’t scold me for turning on the
heat.

Rummaging through the cupboard, I saw we didn’t have any of
the main ingredients.  No sugar of any kind or flour.  “Shoot,” I grumbled.

Having a good memory made it easy to recall my checking
account and what I could and couldn’t afford.  I’d splurged buying 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 splurging on ingredients to bake cookies
to warm the house either.

I closed the doors and turned to tell him the disappointing news. 
Instead of staying in the living room as I 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, dangling 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 til 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.”

Taking the keys from him, I 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 following 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.  Lying under the cool
blankets, I anxiously listened to the rustle of his clothes as he removed and then
folded them to place on the chair.  I wondered what I’d do if he tried climbing
into bed with me as a man.  The quick pounce on the end of the bed told me Clay
had once again become my personal foot warmer.