“You’re breathing really heavily.”
“It’s a thing I do. Big guy, you know? Need big breaths.”
“Yeah,” Mom said. “I don’t think that’s a thing.”
“I need to change my shirt.” I refused to look her in the eye.
“You want me to wait for you?”
I shook my head. “No. No. That’s… fine.” I wanted her to leave so I could punch something.
She waited until I stepped away from the door before pushing past me. She frowned when she tried to turn the knob. “Did you lock this?”
I smiled. I probably looked crazy. “Force of habit.”
“Uh-huh.” She went out and closed the door behind her.
I punched the wall. It hurt like a bitch.
He was only seventeen. That was wrong.
Except he was almost eighteen.
Which… okay.
But.
It was Joe.
And back and forth and back and forth.
My phone went off. A text message.
Joe.
Where r u???
I looked at the clock. I’d been sitting in front of the door for twenty minutes already.
“Shit,” I muttered.
I couldn’t not go to dinner. It was tradition. And If I begged off sick, someone (JoeJoeJoe) would come and check on me.
So I had to go.
I couldn’t do anything about my heartbeat. They’d hear that regardless. I’d think of something.
But the smell.
I ran up the stairs and tore off my shirt, grabbing another from the drawer. I pulled it on as I went into the bathroom. I found an old bottle of cologne I never wore anymore because the wolves didn’t like it. It blocks you out, Joe had told me once. Most of you, anyway.
I sprayed myself at least six times.
I texted back.
on my way
It took me another twenty minutes to convince myself to walk back to the house at the end of the lane.