Chapter eight
I was afraid of awkwardness with Ellie, but it didn't really happen.
She kind of avoided me, but that was okay.
She didn't seem to be upset or angry, at least. I wasn't sure if I wanted to stay friends, since I wasn't sure we'd ever been friends to begin with.
I'd just thought of her like a younger relative who was always sort of nearby, asking questions or wanting to talk.
It didn't feel so innocent now, and I was in no mood to try to bring that dynamic back.
I still found myself annoyed with Arlie periodically.
Sometimes because he hadn't warned me about Ellie's feelings—though I wasn't sure if it would've made any difference if he had, or if it would've just made things more awkward—and sometimes because he hadn't seemed to think it was obvious I'd help him out if his pack turned against him.
But, clearly, these were all communication issues.
He'd had assumptions about Ellie, and said nothing.
If I was going to be annoyed with him about that, I shouldn't be annoyed with him when he took the effort to verbalize what he meant about his pack, and my backup, instead of just assuming.
I could have it one way or the other, but not both.
So, I got over it. Things went back to how they usually were between us—a sort of quiet consideration and comfort level with each other, where we did things like bringing one another snacks or finding excuses to hang out whether we technically needed to or not.
We were carpooling a lot and sometimes even working out at the same time—though we didn't have the same sorts of workouts.
I tended to go often enough to keep fit for my physicals, but not to get particularly buff.
He worked out seriously. His day wasn't complete without having worked up a heavy sweat.
He said it helped him think. Whatever the case, he was working out as much as ever, and maybe more. I tagged along sometimes.
I guess we were in each other's pockets more than ever, and I didn't mind it. It was easy to be around Arlie.
When I asked if he'd decided whether I should talk to the pack about him dating men, and try to smooth things out before there were any issues, he told me he still hadn't decided yet. It didn't feel like he was blowing me off; it felt like he really hadn't made up his mind.
If I knew for sure what to do, I'd have tried to convince him, but I didn't. Not really. I was a guest here, and I was aware of that. His relationship with his fellow wolves, his chosen family, was something I might never fully understand, even if I appreciated it from the outside.
It was clear the pack meant a lot to him, and maybe talking about it first—him dating men—would cause problems for no reason, if he didn't end up getting anywhere with guys, either.
I couldn't help thinking he'd feel better if he started seeing men instead of the women he'd been trying (and failing) to connect with, but I didn't really know. I was just guessing.
If I pushed him to let the pack know before he was ready, it could easily make his life harder instead of better.
All without the guarantee of true love, or even a short-term boyfriend or situationship.
Nothing was guaranteed, so it really did have to be his decision. I'd pushed enough. Maybe too much.
"I think you should decide," said Arlie abruptly one night.
We were stretched out on his bed watching a shitty movie we'd both been meaning to see, then putting off, until we finally agreed to watch it together so we could laugh at the dumb parts and stop saying we'd watch it someday.
It felt like being a kid again and having a sleepover and just being silly together.
I was getting tired, though, my eyelids drooping, and I kept having to remind myself to stay awake. I was staying right next door; it would be weird to fall asleep on his bed.
"Decide what?" I said with a yawn.
"If we should talk to the pack before I start, you know, dating.
It's your call." He didn't even want to say exactly what he meant in his own room.
He had some internalized something to unpack, I thought.
Or else he really was that scared of their disapproval.
The thought made me sad; he loved his pack.
I thought they loved him, too. Maybe he was wrong about how they'd take this.
"That's a big responsibility."
"Yeah, but you're good with people. You'll know what to say, or not say. I keep going back and forth. If you think we should warn them, if you think we should wait and see, whatever you think. I'll go with that."
It didn't sound quite right to me, to be the one to make that decision. After all, this was his life we were talking about.
I blinked sleepily down at our legs, stretched out near each other. He was taller, so his feet went farther, and we were both slouched and stretched out. Had we really been this tired, or had the movie worn us out this much? It felt like an endurance race, one we were losing.
Probably it would have felt strange to just stretch out next to each other, but it happened by stages—first I was sitting on a chair in his room, and he was propped up in bed, but the chair wasn't that comfortable and he said there was room, so pretty soon I was sitting next to him, and then as the night stretched later and the movie stayed dull, the sleepy stretching out sort of happened by stages.
So I didn't feel strange about it, but I also knew there were boundaries we really shouldn't cross, such as me falling asleep here when I could just get up and go next door.
But my limbs felt so heavy and getting out of bed sounded about as easy as mountain climbing.
I was awake enough to think, but moving seemed like a task beyond difficult, something you'd have to be a superhero to do.
I yawned again. "You gonna blame me if I get it wrong?"
"I won't blame you. I don't think I could blame you for anything, even if I should."
Way to make himself sound like a doormat. I was too tired to call him on it, though, or ask him what the hell.
"I'll think about it," I told him. It wasn't like I could actually claim I had no responsibility.
He was my partner—and I was the one who'd pushed him to expand his horizons.
Maybe that hadn't been right of me, but I'd done it, and now that he was actually taking my words seriously, I couldn't claim to have no part in it.
I could at least put out a tentative olive branch with the pack and try to figure out how they'd take it.
I tried to refocus on the movie. It had seemed like a lot more fun than it turned out to be; I hadn't expected to have to fight such a battle to stay awake.
Maybe, I told myself, it was okay to fall asleep next to him.
We'd probably wake up when the credits rolled.
It wasn't like I'd just sleep here all night.
Anyway, even if I did, it wasn't like sleeping next to each other meant anything sexual had happened.
That was more likely to be the assumption of people who weren't shifters.
They tended to be aware of who was having sex with whom, and it took more than dozing next to each other to make them think that.
He yawned and moved a little, and I thought he was going to tell me to wake up, maybe tap me on the shoulder and point out some new dumb thing about the movie.
He moved away from me a little, and then turned and rolled so he was leaning into me, head on my shoulder.
I felt a weird flattered little flutter at the thought of how much he trusted me. I wasn't sure I deserved it.
I looked at him. His eyes were fully shut now. His hair looked so soft. It would be strange if I reached out and petted it, right? It wasn't like he needed comfort. I shouldn't, either. We were both okay.
All the same, I had the strange feeling that something was ending.
Something was going to change. And I had to ask myself, in my secret traitorous heart, if I'd actually be happier about him dating men than I was about him dating women.
Probably not, if he seemed as disconnected and uninterested about it.
But what about if he was interested? If he got a real boyfriend, someone he liked enough to commit to, he wouldn't be spending nights watching stupid movies with me.
He wouldn't have me half falling asleep next to him.
It would be his boyfriend instead. He'd be bowling with a stranger, and introducing him to the pack.
My place in his life would slowly diminish until I was just on the sidelines and not by his side.
That place would belong to someone else.
As it rightfully should. He deserved that, deserved to love and be loved. I would just have to suck it up and deal with it.
#
I got up my nerve and picked my time. Talking with the alpha wasn't something I did a lot of.
He was older, and busy, and important. But it happened from time to time; I'd find myself in the midst of some chore or activity and he'd be there, casually relaxed, as if he wasn't someone important at all.
He wore cozy sweaters and glasses and looked more like someone's grandpa than the most important member of the pack. I'm not sure he even thought of himself like that. He'd have said the most important members of the pack were the children, the next generation.
Anyway, Gary was a nice enough guy, and he always treated me like I mattered, too, so it wasn't that difficult to talk to him when I finally got the chance. I'd been taking a turn at the barbeque, grilling burgers, and he arrived to take over.
It had been a long stream of men taking turns working the grill at full capacity.
It was a big grill, way more professional than most backyards would have, but this was a big pack, and that grill earned its keep.
We'd be working it for the next hour at least. Don't get me wrong; it was fun.
It was a big moment in this pack, when a boy was old enough to work the grill.
I felt good that they let me help as well.
I handed him over the grilling implements and stayed by his side for a moment.
We were both silent, watching the meat cook, listening to the sizzle.
It smelled good. My hair and clothes were going to smell like it until I showered and changed outfits.
I knew from experience Arlie would probably lean over at least once and press his nose against my shoulder just to get another good sniff of that delicious smell.
I liked the smell, too. It felt like summer and sunshine and happy times with friends. I really did like the pack.
"I wanted to ask you something," I said, holding a plate for him while he took some finished burgers off the grill carefully.
"Okay." He didn't look at me, which made it easier.
"You know Arlie's bi, right?"
"Yes, of course. He told us before he joined." He worked with the sure, capable movements of someone who'd been working a grill for longer than I'd been alive. It was something to watch. I'd have enjoyed it more if I could focus on that, and not my concerns for Arlie.
"It seems like it's been mostly theoretical," I pointed out. "How will you guys feel if it's less theoretical? If he actually starts dating a guy?"
He turned to look at me and blinked. "Is that happening?"
I shrugged. "It might. It might happen. I just want the best for him, but he needs his pack's acceptance more than he needs anything else, I guess."
He turned back to the grill and blinked a couple of times. "Well, you have our blessing, of course. It wouldn't be a complete shock. And you're both welcome here. I don't think there will be any objections, but if there are, I'll have a word."
That was how he handled conflicts—he listened, he had words, and he smoothed things over.
I'd never heard of any problems in the pack that hadn't been solved this way.
Although sometime in the past, there'd been a member they had to kick out, someone who wasn't willing to abide by the pack's rules.
The rules weren't that strict, either—but drug dealing was definitely on the "no" list.
"Yeah, I'm not sure—" I stopped.
Wait, what?
We were both welcome here?
I gave him a perplexed look. "Um. I didn't mean I'd be the one dating him. I just wanted to—be sure he'd be okay here if he started..."
I let my voice trail off, because this was getting awkward. I liked Gary, and he seemed to be taking it well, but he'd sounded like he thought I was telling him I had intentions towards Arlie.
This was certainly not the conversation I'd planned to have.
"Oh," said Gary. "In that case, I suppose it would depend on the man." And he didn't seem to have anything else to add to that.
I looked at him for a moment. "Okay," I said. Someone nudged my shoulder, and I moved away to let the next person arrive with a plate of fresh meat. My head seemed to buzz, filled with white noise.
It would depend on the guy. But not, apparently, if that guy was me.