Page 35 of When Hairy Met Stella

She opened the door and stepped out on the balcony, immediately turning to throw her arms around his neck. She squeezed so tight that if he wasn’t having trouble breathing before, he certainly was now. But he didn’t care. That, he could handle.

“What was that for?” he asked when she loosened her grip on him.

“For everything.”

“I…” He shook his head. “I didn’t do much.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” She raised her hand, cupping his face while her thumb lazily stroked back and forth. “You didn’t just help me across an aerial course—you practically carried me. You could have just worn any old costume to Boo at the Zoo, but you went out of your way to match me. You could have just saidwe’ve gotta goto get us off that yoga stage, but now people are wondering if you’re destroying our bathroom.” Her laugh was watery, like her eyes that shone in the light of the setting sun. “You’ve been there for me, supporting me,showingme what I’ve been missing all along. You’re the best guy I know.”

“No, I’m not.”

He turned to the railing, leaning his elbows on it and pressing down hard because he didn’t trust his arms not to reach out and hold her. To feel her in his sweatshirt she’d slipped over her head on the way out here. To feel her body against his. Because that wasn’t why he’d come here. He looked out over the hillside where the sun had just bade its farewell, splashing a pallet of reds and oranges across the sky. He didn’t need to look behind him to know she was moving closer. The heady vanilla scent filled the air around them as she joined him at the balcony railing and lightly pressed her shoulder to his.

“It’s true. I’ve never met a guy like you.”

Well, she’s got that part right.

He turned his head to her as she peered up through eyes bluer than the sky earlier today.

He watched her swallow whatever she was about to say, taking about a heartbeat too long to break the silence. “I’m glad you’re here with me. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else following me out of that yoga studio.”

She’d wantedhim? Gruff, grumpy, single-syllable-answerhimto bring her comfort? “I wasn’t sure. I’m not very good at this.”

“At what? Reading people?”

“At being human.”

He half expected her to chuckle or to maybe even nod in agreement, because hewasbad at being human—mostly because he wasn’t one. Maybe she would put the pieces together and realize the truth, that he was a werewolf, something he’d been needing to tell her for a while now.

“Aren’t we all, though…bad at being human?”

Not as bad as he was, but that apparently didn’t matter to her as she wrapped one of her arms around his back and the other across his front, completing the circle and enclosing him in the most comforting hug he’d ever encountered. And when she nestled her head into his chest…

Okay then, this was his cue to stop clutching the railing, but the slight tremble of his hands kept them from making their home around her, which was what he wanted them to do, but this was embarrassing. He’d held her in his arms quite a few times in the past few days, so what was the big deal now? Though, with the way his heart was pounding and how she’d rested her head right on top of his chest, the jig was officially up. He was nervous. And with her curled into him like this, there was no doubt she knew that.

She leaned back and looked up at him. “How do you do it, Nate?”

“Do what?”

“You’ve always been the one person who could see behind the mask I wear. Like you’ve always known what I am feeling before I’m ever ready to admit it. Like you know what I need before I even need it.”

Her voice cracked the tiniest bit, the vulnerability she wore on her face causing a huge split down the middle of his chest. But he had it all wrong.He’dbeen the one wearing a mask all this time, shielding her—everyone—from who he really was. If she was going to be honest and put everything out there, then he felt an obligation to do the same, even if that meant her never wanting to see him again. Because that was what was going to happen. He couldn’t stick around after this.

“It’s because I’m a werewolf.”

“Isthat why you’re so good at yoga?”

Stella chuckled at her own joke, except…he didn’t so much as smile. He’d been joking, hadn’t he?

He grabbed both of her hands in his, softly running his thumbs across the back. “I’m a werewolf, Stella.”

The words pinged around her head like a game of pong, back and forth, back and forth, her eyes darting from his face to his hands and back to his face, waiting for the bigHaha! Gotcha!moment.

It never came.

It wasn’t until he had turned and walked to the other side of the balcony that she entertained the idea that maybe he was serious.

So, naturally, she just stood there, saying nothing. She didn’t blink for so long she could have starred in one of those dry eyes commercials. Didn’t speak for so long she was surprised the sun hadn’t risen over the horizon already.

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