“I think I’m going to bed.” I almost asked if he would come with, but didn’t know how to word it so I would be asking Clay-the-dog not Clay-the-man. As a result, I went to my room alone.
Not long after, I heard him enter. Lying under the cool blankets, I anxiously listened to the rustle of his clothes as he removed and then folded them to place on the chair. I wondered what I’d do if he tried climbing into bed with me as a man. The quick pounce on the end of the bed told me Clay had once again become my personal foot warmer.
Chapter 11
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. Carrying 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. Closing the basement door behind us, I silenced the whir of the washer.
Absently talking to Clay about what we’d covered in my classes so far, I moved to the bedroom and pulled the sheets from my bed to start making a pile for the next load. 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 and calling goodbye to Clay, ran out the door with a promise to see him at dinner.
Not only did I like Tuesdays because of the delayed start, but also because Tuesday nights Rachel spent time with Peter, giving 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.
Rushing to the car, the door protested loudly when I yanked it open. I tossed my bag in and slammed the door closed thinking of Rachel with a smile as I backed out of the driveway.
Rachel and Peter’s growing relationship made our increasingly frequent dinners 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.
Though I’d never stopped wondering why I could see the lights, learning about the existence of werewolves had tempered my driving 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 seeing the sparks of the people around me served some purpose I hadn’t yet identified, but I no longer actively searched for answers.
Before I met 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 coloring.
With a few minutes to spare, I pulled into the student parking lot and grabbed my things. 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 who I really liked dealing with.
Walking across campus reminiscing, I didn’t see Scott until he waved and called my name. Hearing my name, I stopped.
Cutting across the dying grass, he jogged to meet me on the sidewalk. “I think we should start drawing straws or something.”
“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 looked like he wanted to say more so I interrupted. “Sorry, I have to get going. I’m going to be late for class.”
He nodded and I walked away without a goodbye, hoping it 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.