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“Stalker,” I muttered. “If you must know, I’m going to go to Marty’s.”
He glanced across the street, a frown on his face. “Why?”
“Because I want to see inside.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “It’s—you wouldn’t understand.”
He looked back at me. “Maybe I can if you just tell me.”
“You bother me.”
He cocked his head like a dog. “That was a lie.”
I scowled at him. “Stop it. You don’t get to do that. Stop listening to my heartbeat.”
“I can’t. It’s so loud.”
I didn’t know why I had a loud heart. I hoped nothing was wrong with me. “Well, try anyway.”
He was smiling a little now. “I don’t bother you.”
“You do. You really do.”
“Let’s go, then.”
“What? Go where? What are you—hey. What are you doing?”
He was already marching across the street. He didn’t look back even when I hissed his name.
I ran after him.
His stride was longer than mine. For every step he took, I needed to take two. I told myself that I would be bigger than him one day. It didn’t matter that he was a wolf. I would be bigger and stronger and I’d follow him around, see how he liked it.
“We’re going to get in trouble,” I whispered furiously.
“Maybe,” he said.
“Your dad is going to be so mad.”
“So is yours.”
I thought hard. “I won’t tell them if you won’t.”
“Like a secret?”
“Yeah. Sure. Like a secret.”
He looked strangely pleased. “I’ve never had a secret with you before.”
“Uh, yeah. You have. You’re a werewolf. I’m a witch. That’s like, so secret.”
“That doesn’t count. Other people know that. This is just a secret for you and me.”
“You’re dumb.”
We made it across the street. The garage doors were open. An old boom box blasted Judas Priest. I could see two cars inside, and an old pickup. One of the guys was under the truck. Marty was bent over a 1985 Chevy Camaro IROC-Z with an older man in a suit. The car was sleek and red, and I wanted nothing more than to put my hands on it. The hood was up and Marty was fiddling with something. The man in the suit looked irritated. He glanced at his watch and tapped his foot.
