Page 56 of Raised By Wolves

Waylon returns and holds out his arms. “Alicia Keys, ‘If I Ain’t Got You,’” he says. “Classic slow-dance song.”

I don’t know what to do. Why are his arms out like that? Is he trying to hug me?

“Step closer,” he says. “Okay, good, now put your hands on my shoulders.”

When I do, I feel his warm skin through his T-shirt, and the strong, shifting muscles beneath. He puts his hands on my waist. I give a tiny, involuntary shiver.

“Now we do this,” he says, his voice husky. He starts sort of rocking back and forth, side to side, and I mirror him.

It feels awkward.

And also—amazing.

As we hold each other and sway, I feel pulled magnetically toward him. Our bodies move closer together, until there’s barely an inch between his chest and mine. By now my pulse is racing.

Do I dare?

I take that last step toward him. I press myself against his long, lean torso, and I tighten my arms around his neck. I feel his muscles tense and then relax. His steady breath ruffles my hair.

All the years I was so lonely—why did I wait so long to find someone to hold me?

I close my eyes. I press my face into his chest and nuzzle him, hard. And suddenly he steps back.

“What are you doing?” he blurts.

I’m horrified. I was acting like awolf.

I drop my arms to my sides. “Um, my nose itched and I, um, scratched it on your shirt. I’m sorry.”

He looks at me quizzically for a moment, and then he laughs. “Sure, that’s a totally regular, normal thing to do,” he says lightly.

My cheeks are hot with shame. “Isn’t it obvious that I don’t knowanythingabout what’s regular and normal?” I practically yell.

“Hey,” he says, “it’s no big deal. Come on, the song’s notover.” He looks at me pleadingly, his arms held wide. “Let’s keep dancing.”

I shake my head and sink back down into the booth. If I could make myself disappear, I would. “Thanks,” I say. “But I’m done. So you’d better find someone else to take to the dance.”

CHAPTER 40

HOLO’S JUST SETTLING into his beanbag on Friday morning when the classroom phone rings. Ms. Tillman looks between him and his sister while she listens to whoever’s on the other end. When she hangs up, she says, “Holo, Kai, you’re to report to the counselor’s office.”

Holo closes his book and gets up. He’s seen the school counselor in the hallways. His bald head is very shiny, and he picks his nose when he thinks no one’s looking. But Holo’s always looking.

He glances over at his sister, who scowls as she gathers up her books and papers. Are they in some new kind of trouble? He hopes that whatever this meeting is about is her fault, not his.

Out in the hall he says, “Did you do something?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Why would the counselor call us in?”

“Don’t ask me.”

“I already did.”

“Well, I don’t know,” she says huffily. “But I’m sick of getting pulled out of classes.”

“You don’t even like your classes,” he reminds her.

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