Now she was as angry as I was. She grabbed my chin. "Not everything is a fight. You don't have to pick one with me."

          I jerked my chin out of her hand. "Don't. You don't know me, and if you keep pushing me, I'll just avoid you."

         "It would be easier if you'd just tell me."

         "Look, I don't need another crazy bitch in my life. Just stop."

         Now, I started this with a fight I picked. I have no problem hitting some dude--and if it's just causing damage for a chick, I'd hit her, too.

         But girls have a way of warping what you say and do. Evidence of our night was all around us, and if I hit her, leaving any sort of bruising, especially given my history? I could go to jail for rape. I cannot hit this chick...and that's all I wanted to do in that moment. I still hate being cornered.

          So, I brushed past her, locking myself alone in the hotel bathroom. I got myself clean and dressed in the spare clothes I keep in my backpack for nights I manage to escape the hellhole I live in. It took the whole time to feel like I was back in control of myself.

           I think they call it dissociative identity disorder, now, when you no longer feel like a participant in your life. I don't think its distinct enough to get me labeled as a loony, as I'm me, no matter what happens, but there's times I don't do well with being in the moment.

         I gestured at the bathroom on my way out and she takes it over. Not long after, we were both in my car, driving back to school, as it was a Friday. We didn't have anything to say to each other, but about a block from the school, I pulled over. "You can get out here."

        "Are you ashamed of me?"

        I shrugged at that. "You know I don't give 1 fuck about what anybody thinks. I'm giving you a chance to not be dragged down with me."

        She smiled at me, for that, apparently she thought that was adorable. "No one controls who I hang out with, either. As long as I keep my grades up, I can see you as much as you want."

         And that's when I went from a sex object to a real breathing person--a friend, at least. And that scared me more than anything she triggered that morning.

~~~

         Lunch usually consisted of me taking over a corner table and waiting to see who would dare invade my space. Occasionally I'd get some desperate girl, or a couple of people who were daring each other to come mess with me.

        In all this time, I didn't ask her name, so I can remember thinking Oh, great, Tits comes with a bunch of guys. I'm going to be in a fight just to sit with her.

         Again, not that I care about fighting. But the emotional content that can surround it was too much for me. She was willing to be friends, but what if I hurt hers? Could she stick by me? Would anyone normal ever do that?

         "These are some of my cousins and a few of their friends."

         If there was a pack anywhere that was older than 3 generations, odds were that most everyone would be cousins, even if they were a very large pack. So, when talking to people who were confused with all these people living in what's effectively a mega-mansion (when they do live together), it's safest to prove that they were blood relations. Outside of separate apartments, there are laws, in some towns, about a bunch of young single people living in one home that aren't related: various bordello laws, a real pain in college towns. But showing that you're all 7th generation cousins and technically all co-own the house, the law can't do shit without a lawsuit.

         Plus, cousins is better than cult.

         And I know that raises questions about finding mates in your own pack, for the human mates with children on the way, but remember, most humans can't name all their 4th generation cousins, and unless they marry or mate way outside their culture, and do all sorts of ancestry research, they couldn't guarantee what the distance of relation is with their own significant others. Heck, if their parents slept around as much as they had, they couldn't guarantee that they didn't marry half-siblings. We live in a nation of 1 night stands--which is how my dad got not 1 but 2 wives. They just out-stayed their welcome.

         Anyway, all I did was give a slight nod, accepting that these guys would invade my space. They were quick to sit down, with my mate tucked in by my shoulder.

         "So, Chris, this is Carson and Ben, 4th generation cousins, Sarah is Ben's bitch, Tom is Carson's..."

         "I AM NOT!" Tom squawked as if he was thoroughly offended. Carson just smirked--which left me wondering if they were just friends or if they were dating like Sarah and Ben. Years later, I can safely say they weren't mates--found some female twins from a neighboring pack...but they used to fool around. Carson didn't care if people shipped them, but Tom couldn't stand the picking. Caused quite a few fights with him by bringing that up--which was how I broke my ribs, the first time.

         "Greg and Josh are 3rd cousins, Zach is a 7th, Shaw is a 14th generation cousin, the only direct inheriting line on the land we live on. Trina is my 2nd cousin, and her boyfriend James is my 1st on the other side--so they're no relation to each other. Barry is the only inbred ho out the group."

         Barry laughed at that. "My parents were 4th cousins 3 times removed. They were the last of their lines, so, I'm not related to anyone, but we've got faked paperwork to keep the local Narc off our butts."

        It was quiet for a moment. I guess they thought I'd say something like, "Nice to meet you."

        Instead, since I figured I'd get the awkward out the way, I leaned over to my mate, and whispered, "Babe, I didn't catch your name, last night."

         Carson sat closest to us, and I guess there's no such thing as quiet enough with weres because he busted out laughing while my girl turned beet red.

         "Her name is Anne. Must have used a nickname all night long, then."

         Of course she reached over me to smack at him. "Do you know how many of our family members had the equivalent of a 'nice shoes, let's fuck' introduction?"

         "Yeah, but he's not a..."

         "Shut it Carson." That warning came from Shaw. "So, Anne says you have some serious anger management issues."

         I had to laugh at that. "Oh, it's well-managed. I feed and water that bitch every day. Like right now, I've not had a fight in over 24 hours, so...Tom, you like to get it up the ass. Care to enlighten me on how much lube it takes to break it in, or want to give a demonstration?"

          That was the hardest I've ever been slapped--harder than a lot of punches I've taken from dudes damn near twice my size. It didn't come from Tom, it was my mate. "Manners, Chris!"

         Everyone busted out laughing. I couldn't blame her, as I was ramping up for a fight, and I was going to get a hell of a lot worse until some temper gave way.

         But she didn't know how hard she hit me, and I wasn't sure if this would become an abusive relationship. Weres don't know their strength. All I could think about was what was going on at home. Considering that I was thinking that she was some soft weak girl, I thought she hit me as hard as she could--which is why I was wondering what the hell I was getting into. I even opened my mouth to tell her that this wasn't going to work if she was going to correct me with beatings.

         I wasn't joking about how close I came to rejecting her on several occasions. This wasn't the life I wanted, and at this point I was the biggest maker of my own hell. Everyone else was just added bullshit.

         "OMG, Chris, I'm so sorry!" Then she burst into tears.

         And I felt like an ass. Nobody makes me feel as guilty as that woman, and she never tries to guilt me.

         Shaw spoke up again. "As you can see, we spend a lot of time working to control our own anger management issues. We actually do a lot of practice fights, and for Anne's sake, we'll add you in, if you like."

       "I guess. When are we doing this?"

       "The first hour we're home after school and about 4 hours early on Saturdays and Sundays.