5

The scent of whiskey hit Noah's nose before he even saw his father. He stood in the kitchen, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the morning light spilling through the windows. A week's worth of gray-streaked stubble covered his jaw, and the dark circles under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights spent patrolling the northern borders. The kitchen itself smelled of coffee and the faint metallic tang of blood, probably from the raw steak his father had eaten for breakfast, the plate still sitting in the sink with pink juices pooling at the bottom.

"Noah." His father's voice was as tough as a whiskey glass. "You could have invited her to have some tea."

Noah's bare feet stuck to the honey-colored hardwood as he shifted uncomfortably. Of course his father knew. The man could smell a lie before it left your lips. Besides, the entire pack house reeked of Sarah's cheap vanilla perfume. The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked loudly, each second dotting his embarrassment.

"She's not like that, Dad," Noah muttered, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. "She just... hangs around."

His father's gray eyes, identical to Noah's own narrowed as he took a sip from the crystal glass. "Next time, have her use the front door instead of climbing through your window like some common raccoon and please take a bloody shower. You smell like a brothel."

Noah's ears burned as he retreated upstairs. The staircase creaked under his weight. In his bathroom, the steam from the shower curled around the black marble tiles as he scoured away Sarah's clinging scent. Did she pour a whole perfume bottle on her body?

The hot water did nothing to wash away the guilt though. Not about Sarah but about the empty liquor bottle on his father's desk.

His mother’s death anniversary was coming. His father’s grief was thick in the air like the scent of rain before a storm.

************

To Emma, the hallway smelled like the body odor of two hundred teenagers who thought Victoria Secret and Body Fantasy sprays counted as bathing. Emma trudged behind Tammy and Rakesh, her new self-appointed werewolf tour guides, as they walked through the chaos of second period.

"Okay so in the cafeteria, the dorky werewolves sit by the west windows," Tammy explained, her pink curls bouncing with each step. "The drama kids are mostly humans, except for Jessica Cho, but she's a fox shifter so she doesn't count."

Rakesh nodded solemnly.

"And never, ever sit at the senior benches unless you want to end up as someone's toy."

Emma's stomach did a backflip. "That's... horrifyingly literal, isn't it?"

Tammy grinned, showing perfectly white teeth. "Welcome to Sunshine High, Em."

The biology classroom sported faded posters of the digestive system curled at the corners, a skeleton named "Bony Tony" dangling in the corner, and the distinct aroma of formaldehyde. Emma's sneakers squeaked against the floor as she claimed a seat in the back corner, the wooden stool cold against her thighs and even through her jeans.

She pulled out her phone, A quick search for "werewolves in high school" yielded mostly fanfictions and badly written W*****d stories. The academic journals were even worse. One contained exactly one paragraph about actual werewolves sandwiched between twelve pages of nonsense.

The chair beside behind her screeched as someone sat down. Emma's thumb jammed against the lock button so hard she nearly cracked her phone screen. Was she cursed with this girl? Why did she always have to appear where she was? If she did not know better, she would have called Sarah a stalker. Sarah’s top was more of a suggestion of a fabric than an actual clothing. The pale pink fabric was so thin, Emma thought she could count the exact number of freckles behind it.

Emma was dressed in her usual. An oversized hoodie, the thick cotton swallowing her whole. She almost laughed. Here, she was drowning in fabric while Sarah’s outfit begged the question: did she have an internal heating system? It was so bloody cold.

Sarah blew a pink bubble with her gum, the pop loud enough to make Emma cringe. The clock above the whiteboard ticked slowly, each second stretching into eternity.

Why did time have to be so slow?

The biology teacher, a Mr. Henderson was 55% weird, 40% nose hair, 5% actual human) shuffled in with a stack of papers. The lights buzzed overhead, casting everyone in a sickly greenish hue. Emma risked a glance around the room. Tammy and Rakesh had claimed the seats in front of her, their heads already bent together in silent conversation. A jock type with biceps the size of Emma's thighs was scribbling in his notebook. A girl with glasses so thick, Emma thought they could stop bullets was mouthing along to whatever was playing through her earbuds.

Then the door creaked open again.

The classroom's temperature seemed to drop by ten degrees.

Noah stood in the doorway, like something out of a fashion magazine. His black jeans clung to his legs, his black t-shirt stretched across his shoulders, and his expression suggested he'd rather be literally anywhere else than a classroom.

His silver-gray eyes scanned the room, lingering for the briefest second on Sarah who immediately sat up straighter before...

Before landing squarely on Emma.

He’s looking at me, she thought.

And then, because the universe hated her, Noah started walking. Not toward Sarah and her strategically placed textbooks and definitely not toward the empty seats by the window.

Straight toward Emma.

Her brain was going to blow up. Again. At this rate, she was not going to have any brain matter remaining.

The chair beside her screeched again as Noah dropped into it, his arm brushing against hers. The contact sent a jolt through her body, like the time when she was in Grade 4 when she licked a battery but it was somehow... pleasant? His scent enveloped her like crisp autumn air and something inexplicably that was just him.

Sarah made a noise like a teakettle reaching its boiling point. Mr. Henderson cleared his throat. The clock ticked.

Noah sat perfectly still, staring straight ahead, not looking at Sarah, not looking at Emma either. His expression was unreadable. Like his mind wasn’t even in the room at all.

Emma turned her head slightly, studying the angles of his face, the silver-gray of his eyes.

He didn’t say a word neither did he seem to notice her.

She hated herself a little for thinking it but he was kind of hot.