Page 23 of The Golden Receiver

It had the same sting as Kieran walking away from me the night before, the same sting of a thousand other rejections that all stemmed from the first big one of my parents dropping me off to live with strangers. I knew now that it was the best thing for me, that werewolves needed to be around their own kind, but damn, it took a while to get there.

I didn’t want to do that mental work again. I reached in the dark for my phone, found my headphones, and tried to drown out my thoughts with loud music. It must have worked, because eventually, I fell asleep.

Even with the music and headphones, I still woke up at my usual time. I rolled out of bed, and I tried to keep my mind off Kieran and his lips. I tried to think of anything except what happened between us on Saturday night. If I didn’t think about it, then I could make it through my run with Kieran that morning. I’d texted him to meet in front of Karloff Hall before I even rolled out of bed, making the decision to have a nice run around campus instead of in the woods.

I left my bag in my room, because since we were running around campus, I’d have time to go up and get it. I wouldn’t have to hide it somewhere and just hope that no one came around and stole it. Not that it had been a problem so far, but there was always a chance. (Then again, I doubted anyone would be interested in the contents of my gym bag. I wasn’t always great at remembering to take out my sweaty gym socks, especially now that I didn’t have Kali reminding me at home.)

I got to the bench where I told Kieran we’d meet five minutes early and started waiting.

And waiting.

He was usually on time, but this morning, he wasn’t.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen.

Twenty minutes passed before I accepted the obvious: he wasn’t coming.

I got up off the bench and went on a short run alone.

It was strange. I’d never had a problem running by myself. In fact, I preferred it a lot of the time, mostly because no one else in my pack really cared about running. Especially not when the sun was just starting to rise. They would rather stay warm in their beds instead of starting the day sweaty. But that morning, the run was lonely. I missed the sound of his footsteps behind me. I missed the smug look he got when he would either catch up or pass me. I missed his quiet company.

And okay, I’ll admit it, I missed the way his scent turned musky with sweat. It was mouthwatering, and I just wanted to bury myself in the crook of his neck just to get a direct hit.

Even though my run was technically shorter today, it felt longer.

I hoped I’d see him when I went to get my bag or on the walk to the fitness center, but I didn’t. He was already there by the time I stepped into the weight room. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t talk to me. When I greeted him, he ignored me entirely. Like I wasn’t even there.

But he talked to Marlon or Marvin or whatever the hell his name was. He didn’t seem to have any problem with him. Just me.

I didn’t have high hopes for our shared class, so I wasn’t disappointed when he sat in his usual seat far away from mine. I wasn’t even that disappointed when he didn’t turn around and look at me once. He never paid me any attention when we were in class. He was always too busy focusing on the teacher, and I knew why now. This class was needed for his major. It wasn’t just a class that sounded kind of fun like it was for me. (Actually, a lot of my classes were just classes that sounded kind of fun and then a math class, because my counselor said I needed to have a math class.)

I had hopes for practice though. Especially when Coach Shaw said that we were doing a lot of drills after we did our film study. For once, we were actually studying an opponent’s tape. Last season’s tape, so who knew how accurate it was, but it was still tape from an opponent as we geared up for our first game. For drills, I tried to wiggle my way over to Kieran so we’d be lined up together, but he managed to get away from me. He kept at least three people between us at all times, and he still didn’t look at me.

He didn’t even stop at the locker room after practice.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. Kieran was avoiding me.

Tuesday was the same as Monday.

He didn’t show up for our morning run, even though I saw that he’d read the text message. He didn’t look at me during weight training. He ignored me during practice, and then he didn’t show up in the locker room after. I was aware of every moment he wasn’t looking at me because I was looking at him. I was watching everything he did. I noticed the ways he improved in practice because I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. I even thought about not going to the locker room in hopes that I’d catch him on the way back to Karloff Hall, but my roommates did not appreciate it when I came into the room unshowered.

Supernatural senses of smell were not forgiving of post-practice sweat, and I’d already learned that everyone in my suite was blessed with it. Or cursed, if you asked Preston after he caught a whiff of me after morning weight training. That sweat had nothing on post-practice sweat, and I didn’t want to do that to my roommates. They weren’t athletes; they didn’t find the smell comforting the way I did.

Maybe Wednesday would be better.

It didn’t start better. He didn’t show up for our run, and while I raced through the woods, missing the sound of his footsteps behind me, I made up my mind. If I couldn’t lead the horse to water, then I was going to take the water to the horse. Or whatever the old saying was. I didn’t think I had it right, but it didn’t matter. The sentiment was the same. If he wasn’t going to talk to me willingly, then I was going to have to continue to put myself in front of him. He’d have to talk to me eventually.

Maybe I could even talk Coach Shaw or Coach Erikkson into pairing us together for drills. I could tell them that I thought it would help him develop more. They were all about getting a human on the team, right? And this would prove that the human was integrating more. It would also look good if I wanted a captain’s patch next year. It wasn’t a real goal, but I could tell my coaches that it was…

I put it on a mental list. Okay, I started a mental list to put it on, because the moment I decided it was a list, my brain decided to supply me with a lot of ideas. Some of them were good ones, like super gluing myself to his side during weight training. It wouldn’t be hard to work my circuit next to his. There were more machines than there were players, and he almost always had at least one empty one next to him. I could also get to class early and take the seat next to the one he sat in. That might piss off the person who usually sat next to him, because I knew how some people could be about where they sat in class, but it was a sacrifice they would just have to make. I could handle a person I didn’t know not liking me.

I had ideas about figuring out when he ate dinner and joining him there, too. I could sit next to him during film review. There were so many ways I could just insert myself into his life until he stopped ignoring me.

My brain didn’t only give me good ideas though. There were a few bad ones, ones that I was pretty sure Preston would tell me could qualify as stalking. Most of those included figuring out which room in Karloff Hall was his and lurking outside it until he came and talked to me or waiting outside his classrooms. Actually, that one was probably the worst idea my brain supplied me. It wasn’t just stalking, but it would affect my grades. If my GPA fell below a certain level, I wouldn’t be allowed to play. I might want to figure Kieran out, but not at the point of shooting myself in the foot.

By the time I finished the trail I was running, I had a plan.