Luna of the Last Wolf Pack

Emma

“I’ve got it, Mom,” I say, grabbing the heavy bag of ice from her for about the fifth time today. She never listens when I tell her she should take it easy.

“I’m not the old lady you think I am,” she argues, but she lets me pick up the bag anyway. 

I work with her in her smoothie shop, or at least she calls it that. Yes, we sell smoothies, but we actually have a lot more ice cream, and we even sell sandwiches and wraps. When you’re in a town as small as Emerald Valley, you have to multitask everything. 

“Marilyn, you know Emma doesn’t think you’re old at all,” Kara chimes in, coming to my rescue as a best friend should. “But Em, don’t forget we’re camping this weekend, so don’t break your back now. Can’t you guys hire some burly young stud to do the heavy lifting?”

I laugh. “Like we could afford another salary,” I mumble. 

“We’re doing fine,” Mom insists.

I smile at her and pour the ice into the machine while she walks off to help a customer. We are doing okay, but it is a little tricky making ends meet with this business in a small town. “Don’t worry, I’m ready,” I tell Kara. “I need some serious outdoor time.”

Kara shakes her head. “I’ve never understood your obsession with the forest.”

“Neither have I.” I shrug. “But for some reason, I just love sleeping out under the moon and the stars. It’s like it energizes me or something. I can’t explain….” 

There’s no reason to keep talking because Kara isn’t even paying attention anymore. She’s turned toward the group of guys who’ve just walked into the shop.

“Talk about burly young studs,” she whispers with a giggle. “I’ll take that dark-haired one back to my place any day.”

It’s my turn to shake my head at her. “I swear, Kara,” I whisper back, “you never grew out of the boy-crazy high school stage.”

“Maybe,” she says. “But those gorgeous hunks of muscle certainly aren’t boys… they’re men, one hundred percent.”

I laugh at her and roll my eyes, trying to focus on getting the ice machine working. But I can’t help but glance over a few times just out of curiosity. Those guys have been here before, and they always seem to hang out together. They’re good friends, I guess. 

One of them still lingers outside. I’ve seen him around before, but he has never been in the shop, and I certainly never had the nerve to go up to him and start a conversation. No, not that guy–he’s one of those strong, silent types who don’t exactly scream, “Hey, come talk to me.” He’s built like an athlete. Not a hulking bodybuilder or anything like that–he has the kind of muscles you get from a real workout, like if you do physical labor or play a sport you really love. 

I’ve never been much into sports myself, but I appreciate a great physique when I see one, and I’m definitely seeing one now. He turns a little, and his bright green eyes peer into the shop window, giving me a better look at him. His sandy blond hair is a bit longer than your average guy cut, and I could definitely stare at those chiseled features for a bit longer… oh, good grief. I’ve been spending way too much time with Kara. I’m starting to sound just like her, even in my own private thoughts. 

“Are you there?” The sound of her voice breaks through, and I realize I’ve been staring at the athlete guy a little too long. A flush of heat rises up my cheekbones. 

“Yes,” I tell her, trying to recover. “You’re after the dark-haired one.”

She laughs, almost too loudly, and my cheeks burn hotter as I notice a few of them looking this way while Mom takes their orders. 

“Oh, I see who you’re staring at,” Kara says, thankfully whispering quietly. “The blond mysterious one who won’t come inside. He’s an interesting one for sure. Aloof, confident, with a sort of magnetism that makes him good leadership material. No doubt he studies a lot. There’s something about his eyes that emit wisdom–”

“Will you stop,” I whisper, cutting her off. “You and your character descriptions, I swear.” 

Kara reads novels, a lot of them–actually to an almost heroic level given how much time she spends socializing. I have no idea where she gets the time to sit down with a book, even a digital copy. But in every situation, she’s always ready with a character description for anyone standing around. I love her to death, but she is a bit crazy.

Magnetism–I’ll give her that one. There’s something almost hypnotic in those gorgeous green eyes, almost like they shoot lasers straight into your soul and made you want to just stay there, staring at them, forever. 

“Emma.” Mom’s voice peeks through my thoughts. “Did you hear me?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” I think I’ve heard something about a ham sandwich, so I take the order tag out of her hand and head back to the counter to put it together. “Kara, I’ll be right back.”

“M’hmm,” Kara answers, still staring dreamily at the guys in the booth. 

I have to laugh at her again. 

Somehow, I manage to refocus and finish up the order, which I bag and take over to the guys at the table. They thank me, get up to leave, and drop a twenty-dollar bill on the table as they walk out. They always tip well. I wonder about that since none of them give off a rich-guy vibe, but to each his own, I guess. 

I catch sight of the blond, still outside, as he turns to leave with them, and our eyes meet for a moment. 

It has to only be a split-second, but it feels like it lingers, and I don’t want the moment to end. There’s something about him that changes the way I feel inside. It’s crazy, but it’s almost the same way I feel when I see the night sky above when I’m outdoors in the forest–relaxed, calm, like I’ve found my way home. 

I’ve always been a bit of an outcast and never felt like I truly belonged anywhere. I’m adopted, so my mom isn’t my real mom, although I love her dearly and will do anything for her. I have friends who are also adopted, and they seem pretty put-together. I suppose it’s just a thing with me, but I’ve always felt like I should be somewhere else, doing something more important. 

My mom laughs at me whenever I tell her that and says that maybe it’s true, that maybe I should run for president or something someday. But whenever she looks away after laughing like that, there’s this strange sort of seriousness in her mood. 

It’s odd.

Finally, the guy breaks our gaze and turns around, walking off with his friends. I swear I want to go after him, to run down the street and ask him who he is, where he lives, whether he wants to spend a day or a week or an eternity with me.

Yeah, I’ve been hanging out with Kara way too much. 

Mom calls from the kitchen, needing help with something. I suppose my dreams and crazy thoughts can wait for another time.

I hope I see him again, though.