Chapter 9 #2
Back at home, I sat cross-legged on my bed, with Zeus hidden right underneath the covers. For a second, his muzzle appeared, sniffing and checking that it was me. Once satisfied, the muzzle disappeared again.
After a deep inhalation, I tapped on the screen, deciding to start a conversation.
I’m curious. What exactly did Ludmilla text you?
I wasn’t sure why I expected a reply right away. Thirteen minutes later, bordering on fourteen, I chucked my phone onto the wool sheepskin beanbag underneath my window. A distinctive smear suggested that Zeus’s nose had pressed up against it.
A minute later, I slipped back into my clogs, shoved my phone into my pocket, and put my laundry basket under my arm. Zeus hopped into it.
Was my text boring? Did it scream, “sad excuse just to talk to you”? WHY am I like this?
Shuffling down the hall, I stopped intermittently to pick up my roommates’ baskets. So many baskets, only two hands.
Descending the stairs, heading to the laundry room in the basement, I reminded myself that I had no hands left to check my phone.
Yet I still took a break to do it. Just in case Uncle Andrew texted about our dinner plans for tonight, I reasoned.
Two messages.
Belly swirl.
Except, it actually was Uncle Andrew confirming Sunday’s roast…and sending the restaurant location. “Why two texts, Uncle? One would’ve done.”
I pushed open the creaking metal door with my butt and turned back to walk in. The hum of washing machines welcomed me, the scent familiar, and I got to work, separating whites from black cottons.
Ping.
I jumped like someone had whispered “Boo” directly into my brain, receiving a startled look from the king of Olympus. “Sorry, Zeus.” I petted his striped furry back.
Who’s this?
My mouth dropped open. He forgot about me? I guess there wasn’t much to forget, but we had texted and talked for…like, eight minutes! Eight minutes and twenty-three seconds, to be exact.
I watched the three dots pop up again.
I meant Ludmilla, bunny. Who is she?
Not amnesia. Just selective memory. A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
Does he call other girls bunny, too? My smile vanished.
Are you being deliberately obtuse? Ludmilla sent you a message from my phone because you’d blocked her number. Ring a bell?
Ooooh, so you are curious! I thought you were too superior to mind about other people’s business. Silly obtuse me ;)
Well, don’t tell me, then.
Why’d you ask, then? Huh? Was that an excuse to text me?
Not answering anymore.
Taking out my measuring cup, I carefully portioned the ounces of detergent for each load, depending on the fabric and color.
My phone lit up. The Rudest was calling. I squinted at the screen. My finger hovered.
Without logic or self-preservation, I picked up.
“Evening, Rudolph,” I greeted. To my disdain, I blushed at the deep chuckle on the other end.
“Well, hello there, Yvaine,” he drawled, pronouncing my name like he was tasting it.
Chills ran through my body.
I tugged at the sleeve of my pajama top in the silence that followed. I opened my mouth, then closed it again right after nothing came out.
“Why—” I cleared my throat. “Why the call?”
A huff came. “Texting’s boring, and your voice… You’re way more fun. So easy to irritate.”
I pulled a face at the phone as if he could see it. “Glad to be your source of entertainment for the evening. Must be a wild life you’ve got, being wildlife yourself.”
Or so I assumed.
Tucking my phone between my shoulder and ear, I flung open one of the washing machines for the load with delicates.
The boy—or the man, since I doubted that voice belonged to a boy—chuckled again. I hated that I liked it. Did he do it on purpose, because he knew the effect it had on me? And presumably the rest of the female population?
“Calling yourself a bore? Ivy, Ivy!” he mused. “You’re not boring. You pretend to be, but you’re actually…spicy.”
“Thanks. I’m flattered to be reduced to a flavor,” I quipped, detergent in one hand, washing machine coins in the other.
“Mmm, bunny mustard. My favorite. Wanna try?”
“Gross. Both parts. And you, too.”
Another masculine laugh.
“See? You’re funny! But people only see what you make them see. Don’t you know?” he explained with false concern.
“I don’t care what strangers think of me,” I huffed, climbing the stairs back to the apartment. “The ones I love already know me, and I don’t need to prove anything to anyone else. Back to the messages—”
There was a weird, deep sound on the other line.
“What was that? Are you snoring?”
“No, baby, I’m just fucking enjoying your voi—” He coughed once. “Speech.”
I paused. “What speech?”
He completely changed the subject. “Bunny…are you a, um, human?”
A slick maneuver to check if I was a werewolf. Rudolph might have been smart after all.
“What else would I be? A pig like you?” I said, belly-flopping onto my bed and putting on the speaker. When the faint sounds of shuffling reached my ears, I assumed he’d gone to bed too.
Two strangers.
Speaking on the phone.
At night.
From their own beds.
Intimate. Secretive. Special.
“I was just checking to make sure you weren’t a robot. Or a spinster.” He chuckled, making me roll my eyes.
I suddenly felt calm and relaxed. It was uncharted territory, but I didn’t have the courage to go forward or to understand the thousand whys behind me entertaining the situation.
“And if I were an animal, I’d be a wolf rather than a pig,” he added, the wince audible under his breath. Definitely a werewolf.
I gave him a reprieve from his mistake. “I’m only twenty-one, come on! But I bet you wouldn’t mind a spinster.”
“Twenty-one, huh? Cute.” His voice dropped a note.” And you’re right. I don’t mind older. Why should I? I’m a supporter of diversity and inclusion.”
“Are you? Or are you just diversifying your portfolio to cast a wider net?”
He barked out a laugh. “Sex is sex! Everyone deserves some. As long as they smell good.”
What a way to mockingly tell me off.
“Pig,” I murmured, hearing him chuckle again.
Damn shivers! Go away.
“That’s an insult, bunny.”
“You’re right!” I teased. “I feel terrible now. I’ll have to send apology notes to all the pigs out there that I’ve insulted.” Before he could retort, I shot out another question. “Why would you choose a wolf rather than a pig?”
I figured I could play human and keep him on the ropes for a little bit longer. They usually didn’t know about werewolves, not unless they were fated to mate with one.
“I eat bunnies like you for breakfast, what else?” he said.
Reluctant amusement tugged up the corner of my mouth. “Has anyone ever told you how rude you are?”
“Many times. Mostly you. That nickname you gave me is a constant reminder.”
Zeus rolled around, belly up, giving me the faux sad eyes.
“Come to bed,” I told him. Right into the speaker.
“Sure, why not? Send the address.”
I huffed. “Do you think about anything besides sexual intercourse?”
“Sexual intercourse? What are you, a nun or a doctor or something?”
“I am.” I smiled, thinking back to my profession and how I intended to help those in need.
“A wise life choice. But I can’t talk to nuns.”
“Because you’ll catch fire if you touch one?”
“Spontaneously combust. Prudish ain’t my type. Gives me ball rashes. Gotta go. Nighty night, Saint Ivy from the Ive!” he singsonged arrogantly.
I growled. It might have been inaudible to humans, but Rudolph heard it. His laughter halted suddenly and, again, I heard that strange sound. Some sort of…growly moan.
“So, you are a werewolf.” He exhaled. “Your growl was—”
He broke off. Silence.
I glanced at the phone, wondering if we’d lost connection.
He cleared his throat once more. “Which pack are you from?”
“Come on, you already know my name. I don’t need more stalkers,” I teased, but he didn’t find it funny.
“Stalkers?” His voice sounded too serious.
“I, um, was kidding. Sort of. I had a few, but my brother took care of them a little.”
He huffed. “I would have taken care of them a lot.”
“Er, I’m from Comet.” I decided to keep the tiny detail that my father was the actual Alpha to myself. I swallowed the lump in my throat, anticipating his answer as I ventured, “And you?”
“Nice try. I don’t give out personal info to stalker nuns. You’ll beg me to join your church, and I can’t have the other nuns mad at me for taking sides!”
“But you asked me first! It’s not right—”
“That’s strategy. I can’t risk you showing up at my pack with your buddy Camilla.”
I clicked my tongue. “She’s not my buddy, and her name is Ludmilla—”
“And I don’t care. Gotta go now, baby nun.”
Then—click. He hung up.
I was left telling the dial tone what a jerk he was.
Boiling over like my kettle, I furiously went into the settings and blocked his new number.
For the second time.