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.
“Ah. I didn’t know you and Peter were roommates. I usually don’t have a problem sleeping when he comes over, so if you want them to stay at our place, just tell Rachel. I certainly don’t mind.” He opened his mouth to say more but I cut him off. “Sorry, I have to get going. I’m going to be late for class.”
He nodded, and I walked away without a goodbye. I hoped that counted as a short conversation. I knew Rachel had been staying at Peter’s place because she felt guilty if he stayed at ours more than twice a week. I’d never stopped to consider Peter might have a roommate, too. Maybe I should say something to Rachel. They never kept me up when Peter stayed over. I wondered, belatedly, if they kept Clay up.
Realizing I’d slowed a little, I picked up the pace. I wanted to arrive early enough to talk to Nicole, the shy girl in my basic massage class. Today we would start doing more hands-on practice to try the few techniques already described to us along with muscle identification, and she’d agreed to work with me.
Last week, the instructor had warned us we would work in pairs and would be switching partners over the next few weeks. The announcement had given me a mild panic attack. Although the majority of the students were female, the few men had glanced my way. So, I’d carefully prearranged partners.
On the positive side, the instructor had also stressed we wouldn’t need volunteers from outside the classroom this term. It was a relief to know I wouldn’t need to fend off Scott as a volunteer.