Chapter 46

Andrew

I was scrolling aimlessly through reels, letting the mindless entertainment wash over me, until my peace was shattered by the familiar, annoying mental prod of my wolf. He was insistent that I go check on my mate. I had absolutely no intention of complying; she was far too preoccupied with the teachers for me to harbor any real desire to communicate with her.

Even if she kisses like a pr... No, not thinking about that. Or damn outran me in those dares. Nope, not thinking about that either.

"Just go and talk to her," he growled in the back of my mind. "You’ve only had one proper conversation with her."

"I don’t want to. I can do it another day." I grumbled, firmly ignoring him and keeping my thumb scrolling.

I was midway through a video when my hand suddenly betrayed me, snapping with a mind of its own. My phone flew across the room, skidding violently against the drywall with a sickening crack.

"Hey! What was that for?" I shouted, shocked. My wolf had never before hijacked my motor functions to force his own agenda.

"Move!" The dark, visceral command rumbled from the depths of my being. My body surged up from the bed, and for a terrifying second, I felt like nothing more than a pilot forced from the cockpit of his own skin. What the actual fu.ck?

"Okay, okay, I’m going," I hissed, clenching my jaw. "But don't ever pull that sh.it on me again."

He better not. I was no mere plaything in his hands, but the residual coldness of the control left me rattled. I opened my bedroom door, fighting off the creeping dread as the thought of what I was even going to say to her began to consume me.

"Hey, my wolf forced my body to come and talk to you." I thought sarcastically, leaning against her doorframe. Great icebreaker, huh?

I hesitated, my hand hovering over the wood, trembling with the sheer, unadulterated annoyance of it all.

I knocked. Nothing. The silence, thick and taunting, greeted me from behind the wood, and I felt the familiar, burning desire to just kick the damn thing off its hinges and demand she show me some respect. Or perhaps I was lucky and she was not in her room. But where could she be if not here?

I knocked again, harder this time, the sharp thud echoing through the hallway while I braced myself for whatever insult she was inevitably going to throw my way. I waited, my pulse hammering a frantic, unwelcome rhythm against my throat. A muffled sound finally drifted through the grain. What did she say?

"Hey, it's me. Will you open up?"

I braced myself for some sharp, biting remark, but when the door finally swung open, the air caught in my throat. She stood there, her face a tear-stricken map of misery, her eyes raw and rimmed with angry red, and her nose – usually held high with that annoying, defiant tilt – was a snotty, ruined mess. The sight of such raw, unvarnished distress on a girl who usually wore spite like armor felt like a punch to the gut, leaving me momentarily frozen on her threshold.

Her eyes widened, and she quickly retreated into the darkness of the room, looking sideways so that her lush hair acted as a curtain, shielding her profile from me. It was too late, though; I had already seen the raw pain in her expression, and the way my heart pinched at the thought of her crying left me feeling deeply uncomfortable.

"Hey, what are you up to?" I asked, trying to pitch my voice as gently as I could manage.

"Nothing. Leave me alone." She barked at me, immediately reaching to slam the door, but I managed to wedge my foot and half my shoulder into the gap without even thinking. Her defensiveness was as jagged as ever, yet now that I knew she had been crying, the idea of walking away felt impossible. She squeezed me between the doorframe and the wood for a painful second – Gods, that girl was annoyingly strong for her size – before she finally released the frame and stalked back into her room.

I slowly pushed the door open, taking my time to close it behind me before I shrank the gap between us. She sat in the middle of her bed, hugging a pillow, with only the dim glow of a nightlamp casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. I stood there for a moment, debating with myself: should I sit, or keep standing?

I scanned the room, desperate to find a topic to kickstart this excruciatingly awkward conversation.

"So... have you gotten comfortable in this room yet?" I asked, which was the first thing that popped into my head. It was weird; she hadn’t put up any photos, and it felt sterile. Isn't decorating a "girl thing"? My mom had photos everywhere, and I probably had more physical copies of myself and my family than I had hair on my head.

She looked around the room with a sour, grumpy expression.

"No. I hate this room," she barked out.

Oookay then.

"You can change it however you like," I offered. We could fix it for her, do whatever it took to make her feel at home, though I couldn't even explain why I suddenly cared so much about her comfort.

"Can you make it so that you all disappear and it’s just me and my dad living here?" She quarreled back, quickly glancing up at me with narrowed, squinted eyes. The spiteful version of her was infinitely easier to handle than the crying one. God, I had no idea what to do with a weeping female; I didn’t have a sister, my female cousins lived in my mom's pack, and I was perpetually surrounded by boys – a wild, reckless bunch of goofs.

"Well, we could put up big pictures of your dad, if that's what you want," I offered. She just frowned at me as if I were a total dork. "Tell me, what did your old room look like?" I asked, hoping we could replicate something that made her feel more settled.

"I ain't telling you sh.it," she grumbled, not bothering to lift her head.

She was going to be difficult. I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled one leg up, crossing it. I was angled sideways, effectively opposite her, but I was well within arm's reach.

"Come on, my parents are badgering me from sunrise to sunset to get to know you. Give me something I can share with them." I tried to inject a bit of pity into the moment, bumping her shoulder with my fist.

She swatted my hand away with a painful, sharp smack.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed.

Damn, that girl had strength. I knew she was a werewolf, but did she have to put that kind of supernatural force into every movement against me?

"Oh, is spiteful Miss Prudence now afraid of the big bad wolf?" I teased, reaching out to poke her again. It earned me a deep scowl and another painful swat.

"Scary, scary mousey." I poked her leg again, teasing her like a child. Honestly, it was fun to draw out her annoyance; her witty remarks were sharp, and I genuinely enjoyed them. I just hated that most of the time they were exclusively directed at me. I wasn’t some object of ridicule.

"Stop it, you prick!" she snarled, kicking my knee.

Ouch. Get that, you stupid wolf – you were the one who wanted to come here, I grumbled in my mind. I know, but you felt it more, he retorted.

"You are so tiny, I'm going to eat you!" I was messing around, hoping to draw out a smile or at least keep her angry – anger was better energy than the tears. I used my size to crowd her space, crawling toward her until she shrieked and scrambled back, collapsing against the mattress. I don’t know what I was thinking; I clearly wasn't, because she was just staring at me, her eyes wide, her chest heaving with every breath. I could feel the warmth and softness of her body, the frantic intake of her breath. She smelled sweet, like strawberries, and there was something incredibly intoxicating about her in this submissive posture.

I remembered the kiss again. To be honest, it had been playing in the background of my mind like a movie I couldn't stop watching. Her lips had been sweet, her tongue hot and bold – electric. If I just leaned my head lower, I could...

I shook my head mentally and retreated to a sitting position, while she peeked at me from where she lay. What the hell was I thinking? I cleared my throat awkwardly.

"So, what is your favorite color?" I looked at her as if nothing had just happened, resuming the previous topic. She stared at me, a strange emotion crossing her face, before she sat up and pulled herself as far back against the headboard as she could. Yeah, keep that distance, you scared mouse. I could use that knowledge to my advantage for future situations.

"I don't have a favorite color. Each serves its purpose," she replied cryptically.

"Hmm, I thought it was black," I said, nibbling at her bedsheet while I watched her.

"Why?" She frowned at me.

"Well, you wear black, or clothes with black in them, more than anything else," I shrugged.

"It’s just a comfortable color to wear, but it's not the color I want to look at in my room." she said, a hint of mockery in her voice and expression. The lovely attitude of hers was still on.

"So, what would you like to look at on your walls?" I kept on persisting.

"Bright pink with sparkling diamonds," she said with a sickly, saccharine sweetness. Yeah, eat my pink and sparkling ass – I don't believe a word of that.

"Hmm, I didn't peg you for that type of personality," I replied with a smug grin. Yeah, judging her always seemed to pull her strings, right?

"Yeah? So what did you imagine I would like?" she mocked.

"Well, with your charming, spiteful, and wild personality, I imagined black with red spikes and loads of rock group posters everywhere," I said, looking around the room. Yeah, that would totally suit her.

"For a sleeping space, you need specific colors to ensure a good night's sleep," she said in a snobbish tone. Ooh, look at the smart, educated girl now.

"And how would you know?" I pulled at her strings with a doubtful frown, teasing her, though she might not have realized it.

"I listen to podcasts and read stuff, you uneducated buff," she replied with an eye roll.

"And how would you know that I am uneducated?" I gave her a moment of doubt.

"Do you read books?" she asked, a lame frown pulling at the left corner of her lips as if she was disgusted by my mere presence – which, let's be honest, she probably was. Yeah, she was always so inviting, I totally wanted her as my mate – I thought sarcastically.

"Of course I do. All the time," I said without missing a beat. Her eyes widened for a split second, then she returned to her calm, guarded demeanor. Ha, take that, you arrogant lone wolf! Goddess, I hate their breed. I started to remember why I despised her so much and preferred not to talk to her at all.

"What was the last book you read?" She clearly challenged me, not believing a word.

"Battlefield of Gods - finished just a week ago." I replied without blinking.

She frowned. Take that, lone wolf. For a moment, she just looked at me while I held her stare.

"If you were a designer, what would you change in this room?" I gave her another chance to indulge in this dialogue.

"Nothing!"

Wow, she was making this conversation so difficult that it was starting to genuinely annoy me. Every once in a while, she could just drop the shitty teenage attitude and be a normal werewolf.

"Come on, Rue. Just give me something – we can change anything so that this room looks and feels great for you," I spat out with deep annoyance. If she just barked something back, I was leaving. I would tell my parents how I was trying and how she was teenage-spiritng me. She just stared at me with a frozen expression. Was she even breathing?

"Why did you call me that?" she suddenly asked. Ah, I shouldn't give her a nickname - I should have called her Shitty Attitude and that's it.

"Well, it suits you – it sounds like a mystical, fire-spitting dragon, which you are," I teased. It was partly true, but mostly, it had just popped into my head. Even the shortened form of 'Prue' sounded too soft for her spiteful, rebellious personality. My father had dug into her history – she’d been expelled from every school she’d attended. But when I asked him if this was the Luna he wanted for his pack, he just brushed it off as "kids acting out" and "weres getting bored in the human world." Kiss my daubtful ass, Dad. You just knew something beneficial for yourself that you weren't telling me. He only ignored the red flags when it suited his bottom line.

She kept looking at me for a long moment while I held her gaze, before her shoulders finally relaxed and she looked around the room. For the next half an hour, she shared ideas, and we bounced back and forth about how we could change the room. We even agreed that we could split the space into zones because it was good for Feng Shui – don't even ask me what that is.

I managed to needle a few smiles out of her, and she even made a joke or two that had me laughing despite myself. By the time I retreated to my own room, the suffocating tension had morphed into a strange, lingering warmth. I sat there in the dark, genuinely surprised that we’d actually managed to exist in the same space for an hour without drawing blood. As I stared at the ceiling, I caught myself wanting another moment like the one we just shared.