Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Ari
Something’s happened to Felix, and I don’t know what to do about it. Or even if I should do something. Or maybe I already did something, and that’s why he’s acting this way?
On Monday, he was friendly. I was the one being awkward and weird, even though I was trying not to.
This game was his suggestion, but now that we’re here, it seems like he’d rather not be.
Or at least, he’d rather I not be here. He won’t look at me if he doesn’t have to, he keeps muttering to himself and taking deep breaths, and a little while ago, I caught him leaning as far away from me as he could without ending up in the lap of the woman on his other side.
Do I smell? Shifters have an extraordinary sense of smell—is it possible that I didn’t shower as thoroughly as I should have? Or that I picked up some kind of contaminant on the way here?
I try to give myself a discreet sniff, but it’s not easy to smell yourself without looking like that’s what you’re doing. His nose is way better than mine anyway, so it’s possible I can’t even smell whatever it is that’s making him want to get as far away from me as he can.
Meanwhile, players are doing stuff on the ice, and I’m learning absolutely nothing. The game hasn’t started yet—I’m not that clueless about it—but there’s probably something I could learn from… practice? Pregame? Fuck, that’s not what they call it.
With a sigh, I brace myself for rejection and turn to Felix. “What are they doing right now?”
He shudders, which is surprising. It’s not the usual kind of reaction someone might have if they were startled. But before I can give it more thought, he clears his throat and answers me.
“Warm-ups. They’re warming up for the game.”
I think about that for a second, but it still doesn’t really make sense. “Why?”
Now he’s startled. “Uh… so they don’t injure themselves by performing highly physical feats with cold and unprepared muscles.”
Belatedly, I remember that the Earth species don’t have the same control of their own bodies as we do. Or at least, those who can haven’t learned how to do it. And these are humans, so they definitely haven’t learned.
“Oh.” It would be so useful for them if they could increase blood flow with minor meditation.
“So, uh, they’ll do this for probably another five or ten minutes, then they’ll go back to the dressing room and we’ll get a little pregame show.” He sounds uncomfortable, but at least he’s speaking to me.
“Is everything okay?” I ask. “Have I offended you?” This might turn out badly for me, but I have a job to do, and I’m a professional. If there’s something I need to fix, I will.
“No! No. Uh… no.”
That seems fairly clear. Except he’s still not looking at me, and his face is flushed red.
I try again. “We didn’t exactly start out in a positive way, and that’s my fault. If there’s something else I need to apologize for—”
He groans. “There isn’t. I swear, this isn’t about… I mean, it’s not your fault.”
So there is something, then. I stare down at the players on the ice, not really paying attention to what they’re doing as I mentally assess the best course of action.
“I’d like us to be friends,” I say softly, and I’m surprised by how sincere it feels.
That wasn’t part of the plan, but… maybe Felix and I can be friends.
I don’t have that many among the Earth species, and it’s bothered me.
Making friends is different from being friendly, and while I find the latter easy, the former is one of the hardest things I’ve done.
Sticking with the friends I had from home is easier than going out of my way to make new ones here on Earth. But that’s not a good thing.
The last thing I want is to be like my parents.
“Friends,” Felix repeats squeakily, then coughs. “Sure. We can be f-friends. Seriously, though, you haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I appreciate that, but if we’re going to be friends, you should let me help with whatever the problem is. Especially if it relates to me. I won’t get offended, I promise.”
He sucks in a breath, then chuckles. It’s not an amused sound, though. “Yeah, that’s… great. But there’s nothing you can do. I’m fine. Really.”
“Unless…” Dáithí’s voice cuts in, and I turn to him.
“Unless what?”
“No,” Felix says.
“Sorry for eavesdropping, but it’s one of my favorite things to do,” Dáithí announces. “Fe, maybe Ari—”
“No.”
“—should know what’s—”
“No.”
“—going on.”
I look from Dáithí to Felix and back again. “I think that’s a good idea.”
“What part of the word ‘no’ do you all not understand?”
Dáithí leans across my lap, and I push back in my seat to give him more room. I’ve gotten used to casual touches and affection with my friends, but sometimes it still feels like my personal space is being invaded. Or that I’m invading theirs, even when they initiate it.
“I’m not saying you need to, uh, give details,” Dáithí hisses. “But telling him about the situation that’s made hockey difficult for you over the past couple of years isn’t a bad idea.”
Felix opens his mouth—presumably to say “no”—then pauses to consider. That’s good, because now I really need to know. Hockey is difficult for Felix? Why?
“Fine,” he concedes. “It’s not like it’s a secret or anything. Or a big deal. It happens to everyone. Every shifter, I mean.”
Okay, now I’m curious. What could they possibly be talking about?
Dáithí straightens back up, and I turn expectantly to Felix.
Who immediately looks away. “It’s not a big deal,” he repeats. “I’m at a stage of my life where I, uh… where my feelings get intense sometimes. And my senses are a little sharper too. It makes it hard to… think.”
What? “I’m sorry you’re going through a difficult time,” I say by rote. “Is there a-a treatment, or… I guess I don’t really understand. Is there a reason for this?” Wait, didn’t he say before that every shifter experiences this?
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Dáithí declares. “You suck at this, Felix.”
“You suck,” Felix retorts, and then they both snicker like randy teenagers. I look past Dáithí to Eoin, who’s not paying any attention to us at all. Too bad, because I could really use some support and maybe interpretation right now.
“Here’s the thing, Ari,” Dáithí begins blithely.
“Oh no,” Felix mutters.
“Shifters are wildly emotional and volatile, and because they also have the ability to change themselves into a completely different shape, the life force, in all its wisdom, decided that maybe they didn’t need to experience the full onslaught of hormones while they’re teenagers trying to get used to growing bodies. ”
“You’re the worst,” Felix accuses.
“So instead, they have two puberties. One while they’re physically changing, and another a few decades later to allow for hormonal changes. It’s called reproductive puberty and usually begins in their late thirties. Our Felix is a bit of a late bloomer, so he’s dealing with his now.”
I frown, trying to parse Dáithí’s rapid explanation, and then blink when it clicks. “Oh. Heightened emotions, surges of irritation and lack of control?”
Felix nods miserably.
“Ohhhh. So that’s why you…”
They both wait for me to finish that sentence, but I can’t think of a way to do so that’s not rude.
“Uh, I mean… It must be frustrating to see your teammates squander opportunities to score.” I have no idea if that’s actually what happens or not, what with never having watched more than the clips of Felix beating up his teammates. It seems logical, though.
To my relief, he nods. “Yeah. Though, honestly, some of them piss me off just by breathing, and it doesn’t take much more to make me want to pound them to dust.”
Fair enough.
But shame and guilt war for supremacy in me. “I’m so sorry I assumed—”
“No. Stop. It’s fine. You didn’t know, and seriously, I’m not that much more aggressive a player now than I used to be. I’ve always played rough, but now I’m just… less controlled.” He heaves a sigh. “I’m hoping it will be over soon, though. It’s exhausting having these ur—surges of emotion.”
I guess it would be. My own puberty was a long time ago—so very long—but I remember it being very stressful. There—
The lights begin to dim, and I glance up in surprise.
“Time for the pregame entertainment,” Felix says, and there’s no misinterpreting the relief in his voice. That’s understandable. Talking about something so intensely personal would be torture for me.
I turn my attention to the ice and the mascot. At least, I hope it’s the mascot. If it’s not, this game is a lot stranger than I thought.
It’s not until much later, when I’m changing for bed, that I have time to think some more about Felix’s revelation.
After the pregame show was over, the players took to the ice, and Felix kept me busy with detailed explanations of everything that was happening.
Hockey’s a surprisingly fun game—fast-paced enough to keep my attention, requiring enough skill and finesse to win my admiration…
and rough enough to make me wince on several occasions.
I’ve been told that the community version of the game is a lot faster and rougher, which makes sense given their greater physical abilities, and now I’m very much looking forward to watching Felix play.
I can see, though, why his puberty would be problematic for him as an athlete.
Hockey might be a rough game, but even when the players are slamming into each other, they’re doing it with purpose and often precision.
They’re not bashing at each other just for the fun of it—most of the time—but rather with the end goal of getting the puck for their team or helping a teammate to score. The violence is controlled.
What Felix inflicts on his own teammates is definitely not controlled and has no purpose.
It’s a wild outburst of hormone-driven emotion that has no true place in sport.
Is that level of reaction usual for shifters?
Do they all experience such wild mood swings and frustration, or is Felix’s more intense for some reason?
He did say he was a rough player to begin with—was that a deliberate choice, or is he naturally more emotional even when he’s not hormonal?
As difficult as puberty was for me, I wasn’t prone to outbursts of volatility like some of my peers were. The biggest issue for me was—
I freeze with my shirt halfway over my head.
The biggest issue for me was the sexual urges. I wanted to jerk off a dozen times a day, and I got turned on by almost anything. People, yes, but also any kind of friction (which made clothing fun to wear), smells, even some sounds.
Is Felix going through something similar? What was it Dáithí said—something about this puberty being hormonal?
I grab my phone and go to one of the better community search engines.
It takes literally seconds to find a treasure trove of information about reproductive puberty, which is more intense for shifters than other species, since they’re experiencing it after their bodies and prefrontal cortices are fully developed.
While all emotions are impacted, it’s particularly focused on sexual impulses and reactions—or as one forum puts it, “Expect to be horny as all fuck.”
Letting out a breath, I sink down to sit on the bed. Is that why Felix was being so weird tonight? He was turned on and uncomfortable in a public place? I don’t blame him for not wanting to talk about it.
I wince when I remember asking him if there was something I’d done wrong. Poor guy probably wanted me to ignore his reaction, and I was trying to make it all about me. He even said it wasn’t about me.
That’s almost too bad, though. I think I might like it if his horniness was about me.