{Jack}

IT WAS THE tears that killed me. I knew she had been crying as soon as I opened the door--maybe normal humans or even werewolves wouldn't have noticed, but we were mates. We were literally made for each other; including when the other is hurting.

"How'd you find this place, anyways?" Alex asked, not opening the door wide enough for me to come in.

"I... um. I followed you," I admitted, fighting the urge to demand answers here and now. Her eyes narrowed, and found myself admiring her for the thousandth time.

"From where? You weren't at the cafe today."

A guilty pleasure rippled through me as I realized she had noticed my absence. "No, I mean... A while ago. I followed you, just in case anything ever happened and I needed to know."

She snorted, muttering, "Stalker."

"Can I come in? We need to talk."

"No. Good night," she said, turning to close the door. I grabbed it before she could shut it, opening it wider and stepping in. She turned, growling lowly at me, but I was too distracted by what was around me.

It was... everything and nothing. Little bits and pieces of everything, like puzzle pieces scattered, put together in the wrong order. An organized chaos. My awe only increased as I realized she probably had a hidden life story in this apartment.

I started focusing on little things, like the fact that she seemed to have covered every wall in shelves, all full of books. I saw everything from journals to jujitsu manuals, fantasy novels to coffee-stained textbooks, and drawings scattered throughout. Engineering and advanced math sheets were spread across her coffee table (which was in between her couch and TV hanging on the wall), along with a shut laptop. She had a small kitchen space with an open counter separating it from the rest of the apartment, and my fingers were practically twitching with the urge to make something. I saw doors straight ahead, leading to what I assumed must be her bathroom and bedroom.

I had to force my imagination away from what she wore to sleep.

"Get. Out."

Her voice was quiet but deadly, and for a moment, I wanted nothing more than to run. I never wanted to know what kind of damage she could do if she felt like it.

"No. We need to talk," I said.

"No, we don't. No one's come for me yet, so I'm assuming you haven't told your pack I was turned. As long as you keep it that way, we have nothing to discuss."

"Wait, why would I not tell my pack?"

"You didn't, did you?"

"No, but why?" I asked, curiosity itching beneath my skin. I'd spent the past week learning anything and everything about wolves that were turned, and I wanted to know what she knew.

"Um, because I don't want to be killed in my sleep? Any other stupid questions?"

"Why would they kill you?"

She rolled her eyes at me, and my wolf snarled. I waited for him to say something about her, but instead he started going off on me.

Don't pretend you're stupid! What if she's insulted and leaves us?

Wow, thanks. I try to get some real answers, and this is how you react?

"Do you live under a rock or something? When your people meet people like me, bad things happen. Like angry mobs killing turned wolves. Or driving them insane. Or making them run away. And since I'm in college right now, I don't want any of those things to happen. I'd lose so much money..."

I studied her, thoughtful. My brilliant, beautiful mate, who would never be accepted by my friends and family. Who ignored tradition. Who I had yet to so much as touch.

"Can I make you dinner?"

"Huh?" she asked, confused.

"Can I make you dinner? I'm hungry, and we need to talk, so it follows that I'd make food. So can I make you dinner?"

"I... um... yes?" she said hesitantly, clearly off-guard. I nodded, walking over to her pantry and studying the food thoughtfully.

"Don't have much, do you?" I asked. She scowled.

"What are you, a chef? I'm living on a student budget."

"Yes, actually, I am. I'm the pack's chef. Went to culinary school and everything," I said, opening her fridge. I was nervous to tell her--what if she didn't like that I held such a low position?--but the look on her face quickly made it worth it.

"No way!"

"Yeah."

"I don't believe you. That's just not right."

"What, that I'm good with food?" I asked, pulling out some food. I skimmed her spice rack, curious, but didn't take anything, instead opting for some butter, eggs, and a few other random things, like vegetables, cheese, and meat.

"No, that you're, like, professionally amazing with food."

I smirked, pulling out a frying pan (one of the three pans, total, that she had. Seriously, how did she have enough to work with?) and starting to melt the butter.

"Whatever you say."

***

"I TAKE IT back. You are a fucking food god," she said, taking another bite of her omelet. I bit back a smile as she closed her eyes, savoring the flavor. It was moments like this that I could imagine us as a couple--living crappy, everyday lives with each other as comfort.

I wondered if she'd ever have kids.

"I know," was all I said. She looked at me curiously, blushing slightly.

"What?"

"What what?" I asked, confused.

"You're looking at me."

"You're my mate."

"And?" she asked.

"And, I like looking at you. Besides, I don't usually get a lot of attention for my food."

"What do you mean? Aren't you the pack chef?"

"Yeah, but it's not exactly a glamorous position. Mostly, I just work in the kitchen in the pack house and get the occasional thanks. It's a glorified lunch line."

"Screw that," she said, her green-gray eyes flashing. "You make amazing food and deserve to be appreciated."

"Well, thanks. Doesn't matter, though."

"'Course it does. Everyone deserves to be appreciated."

There was something in her eyes that made me think she might have been thinking about her own, still shadowed past, which brought me back to the point of this evening.

"Alex, can I ask you something?"

"My favorite flavor of ice cream is mint chocolate chip."

I laughed. "Not what I was going to ask, but good to know."

"What's your question?" she asked, looking tired and resigned.

"When did it happen?"

"A little less than three years ago."

I blinked, surprised by her direct response... and her answer. In all my research, everyone had agreed--most people who were turned had it happen at a very young age, usually when they were just toddlers.

"How old are you?

"I'm turning 19 in a month. What about you?"

"I just turned 19 a few weeks ago."

She nodded, shifting her gaze back to the omelet in front of her, taking another bite.

"How did it happen?"

She stiffened, but finished chewing before speaking again. "That's not something you get to know."

"Alright."

She seemed surprised when I left it alone after that.

"Okay, how about this--for real this time, will you go out with me?"

If she had been surprised before, she was stunned now.

"I... wait... what?"

"Will you go out with me? You said before I should ask, but I've been thinking about it, and you're right. I should get to know you before assuming that everything will be clear sailing."

I took a deep breath, having gotten that out there, glancing back up from my food to see her still staring at me, stunned.

"Um."

"That's articulate," I commented, very carefully keeping my mask of calm, trying not to show how terrified I was.

"I... I don't know."

"I understand if you don't want to," I said, trying to calm my heart-rate. Liar. You don't understand, and you'd be heartbroken.

"I just... can we try being friends first?"

"Yeah. Friends?" I said cautiously, trying to hide how much that one word hurt. Still, this was a step forward, one I appreciated. I'd be damned if I screwed up my chances of being with her because I wasn't willing to take it slow.

"Friends," she agreed, "And as new friends, the first thing you're going to do is teach me how to cook."

I laughed, startled, as we stood up and started cleaning the dishes.

Maybe this will work after all.

Hi guys! So, Jack... your opinions? Is he okay, or great, or devil spawn, or something else?

Also, what do you think of them being friends? Is this smart, or dumb, or is there something else Alex should've done here.... I'm curious to hear your thoughts. 

Thanks for reading, and remember to comment, vote, and follow!

--Earthstone