Hunter
“That composition is insane.” Callie leans over my sketchbook, her sweet scent pouring over me.
Glancing down at the piece I’m working on, I stare at the page. It's just a sheet of hand practice, but some of the hands are linked. Some of them are grabbing for the edges of the paper or another hand. It looks suffocating and comforting at the same time if that even makes sense.
“Hm? Thanks.”
Actually, it makes perfect sense. I’ve been thinking about how I found Evans on the grass yesterday.
I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on his conversation with his mother, I just thought that if I approached him in a public space, when there were other people around us and I couldn’t get consumed by his scent, then maybe I could keep a level head.
I thought that maybe I could draw that line between us again.
That hadn’t happened.
I’ve been thinking about whether or not I should look for somewhere else to live to finish out the rest of the year. Soren had a spare room at his place but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to make that jump just yet.
Yesterday, I stayed with Evans because he asked. When he’d been ready to move again, I’d just awkwardly followed him home. Then this morning I greeted him in the kitchen like normal, but I’d been careful to keep my distance physically.
Locking down my pheromones and scent, I’d tried to keep some space between us.
He never said anything, but I think he noticed because he’d frowned and tried to discreetly sniff the air.
Spoiler: nothing Evans does is ever discreet.
“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been strange lately.”
I didn’t have a class this afternoon, but I had an independent study session, which is why I’d come to the quadrant near the art block with my sketchbook and my thoughts.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not yourself. You’ve been quiet and withdrawn. And we haven’t fucked in months.” She narrows her eyes at me, not in judgement, but more like she’s expecting to find the answers written on my face. “Not that we have to, but it seems like you’ve not been seeing anyone.”
Now that she says it, I realise that I haven’t slept with anyone else since that night in Crest Haven, except for Percy. Sweet, pretty Percy who I’ve kind of ghosted.
It wasn’t intentional and I’m not even sure he’s noticed to be honest. Between my classes, his classes and a dance show that he has coming up, we barely had any time beyond exchanging a couple of rushed texts here and there, each filled with vague promises to meet up again.
“Has the playboy painter been cured of his affliction?" She teases, sitting down cross-legged next to me as she pulls her own workbook out of her bag.
I shrug, adding some extra shading to the hand I was working on. “No, just going through a dry spell I guess.”
Technically, it was true, but it also wasn’t, because I'd gotten very well acquainted with my hand these days. The thought of anyone else touching me…it made me feel restless. Even Percy. I don’t know when that happened.
Callie ties up her hair before pulling a pencil out of her case. “How’s your final project planning coming?”
“It’s not,” I grunt. My muse was gone, all of my thoughts focused elsewhere. Like my housemate. And my dick. And sometimes the two things at the same time. I was a talented multitasker like that.
“You know I’m always here if you need a soundboard.
Someone to riff off.” She smiles at me, the kind where the corner of her mouth lifts and it’s an adorable smirk.
“And if you’re obsessing over a certain dark haired, adorably clueless football player and intent on making shitty art out of it, you may need a creative bestie to give you an opinion on that. ”
Hmmm. Less adorable now.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah,” she scoffs, leaning in to tap my page with the back of her pencil lightly. “I’m sure the scar on the back of that hand is totally coincidental. Or did you forget that we all saw the man naked last week. We drew him in delicious detail. Every glorious inch.”
She winks and I nudge her away with the back of my hand.
Chuckling, she rights herself. “I’m just saying if you need help pulling together a theme I have a few ideas. Anyway, what are your plans for spring break?”
I’d been thinking about it, and I needed to be away from Oakley for a few weeks. Ivii has been nagging me to come with them to The Lakehouse, one of our family’s holiday homes that sits on the edge of Grandview Lake.
“I’m heading home to spend some time with my family. My rut is due soon, so I’m just hoping to be back in Oakley before that happens.”
Being stuck out in the woods partnerless during my rut was not my idea of a good time. No amount of weed would fix that.
My parents had built me my own private property, on the edge of their land, away from them but any alpha would hate spending a rut alone. Let alone a dominant one.
“Well, I’ll be here waiting, legs akimbo if you’re in need of a partner.”
I laugh at the mental image. “Thanks.”
We draw in silence for a while, just little practice sketches, some observation work as I try to ignore my phone vibrating as it rests on the grass beside me.
“Wow, your phone is going crazy.”
“It’s my sister.” I say with an apologetic smile. Ivii was tenacious when she got going, like a dog with a bone. “She’s determined to hook me up with her friend. And also adamant that I need to be home for spring break.”
She was putting more pressure on me than my parents were, texting constantly to check if I was still going, to make sure I hadn’t changed my mind and also to ask if I could bring the headphones she left in my car.
You’d swear I was a relative visiting from the opposite side of the world instead of an older sibling on the same damn campus.
“It’s nice that you guys are close.” People always say that. That’s because they don’t have an Ivii in their lives.
“It means she’s plotting something.” Chuckling to myself, I remember the time she’s roped us all into watching her living room ‘dance show’. She’d hounded us all day, nagging us to be home by 6pm for something very, very important. It had been her, dancing to Shakara in her new silver cowboy boots.
“What’s the friend like?
I pause, a flicker of guilt in my chest. “He’s sweet, pretty, hot. Ticks all the boxes in theory. We’ve already been on a date and we’ve been texting, but I’m just not sure my head is in it.”
“Well, duh.” Callie rolls her eyes. “That happens when you’re living with a football god. It’s like being offered a salad when you want a big, juicy, THICK, burger.”
“Stop thinking about his dick.”
“I’m just saying. THICK. And long, it’s like the length of my arm—Owww!” She howls loudly, and people start turning our way. My cheeks flush from all the eyes on us while she talks about Evans dick. He’s mine. “No hitting! It’s not my fault your housemate has a donkey di—!”
Clamping my hand over her mouth, I give her a warning look and she holds up her hands apologetically. Slowly, I pull away, glaring at her. I should have known better, Callie never listens.
“You worried his milkshake is going to bring all the girls to the yard?”
Rolling my eyes, I bury my face in my hands. Kill me now.
We stay like that for a few hours, just drawing and chatting before packing up and heading back. It’s nice. It feels like a different pace to how things have been recently.
I call in to a convenience store on my way back to the house because I’ve realised that I’m out of candy and popcorn, staple foods when I’m on a deadline and trying to keep my sugar levels high.
Plus other than Evans, none of my housemates were snackers which meant if I went home now there would only be protein bars and natural yogurt on offer.
“Hunter!” A voice calls and I turn around and see Shiloh standing in the aisle with a small basket. He’s wearing an oversized, off the shoulder knitted jumper that looks like something Bell picked out. It’s cute. With a small wave I head over.
“Everything okay?” I ask, scanning over the top of the shelves for Zale, growling when I don’t spot a familiar blond jock.
Shiloh glares at me, and for a moment I get flashbacks to how he was last year. “You know that we’re not attached to the hip right?
“I mean, you say that, but it is very rare to see one of you without the other.”
Shiloh’s pale skin turns pink and he sways gently. “Zale is just protective.”
“And obsessed with his omega.” I chuckle, as I open the drinks cooler and toss some peach ice tea in my basket. “As he should be. You know, you really lucked out finding your fated mate. Not everyone gets that.”
“I know. I’m sure yours will come along too.” Shiloh looks awkward for a moment. Y’know, if you want that…”
Do I want that? Would it feel even remotely close to the way I feel about Evans?
I don’t know if it’s because I’m a dominant alpha but recently I’m aware that my feelings towards him have grown, like creeping ivy slowly taking over the entire house. Weaving its way through all the nooks and crannies until there’s no escaping.
When I sleep, I dream of him. When I paint him, it’s his face. His eyes. His fucking hands. He’s everywhere and the desire borders on obsession, dangerously close to spilling over. But at what cost?
“Hey, do you think Evans is okay lately?” Shiloh asks hesitantly, lowering his voice as he leans in. Since he started dating Zale, he’d stopped wearing his glasses, tying his shoulder length hair back more often. Big green eyes blink up at me, and I see a spark of something in them.
“Why do you ask?”
“I think him and Bell have gotten close. He’s been texting them gym selfies, and random pictures.” He sounded a little jealous. Shiloh didn’t have many friends, but Evans could also be unpredictable.
My eyes narrow. “Like unsolicited pictures of his dick?”
Damn it Evans, did I need to sit him down and have another talk about sexting etiquette?
“No, that’s the funny thing.” Shiloh pauses, confusion lacing his words. “It’s like pictures of his food?”