Page 11 of Messy AF
“I think he has a thing for you,” I answered instead, not wanting to frighten Tobi or freak him out.
“What?” He chuckled, startled and uneasy. “No. I would have—”
“Trust me.” I tapped the side of my nose. “Scent doesn’t lie.”
Tobi stared at me, uncertainty flickering in his gaze. “You can really tell? Just like that?”
I nodded, resisting the urge to smile at his skepticism. “You’ve really never noticed? The guy looks at you like he wants to devour you.”
He huffed out a dry laugh, then ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the already-messy strands. “Well, that’s…uncomfortable.”
His eyes darted to the window, as if half-expecting Peter to materialize on the other side of the glass.
“It doesn’t have to be,” I said softly, touching his arm. “But I do want you to be cautious. Shifters don’t give up easily. If Peter wants something, he’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”
Tobi chewed his bottom lip as he considered the warning. “And what if I don’t want him to like me that way?”
“Then we make sure he understands it’s not up for negotiation.” I spoke gently but firmly, steel certainty wrapped in velvet tones. “But you don’t have to worry about him while I’m here.”
He looked at me then, really looked, his eyes soft and vulnerable. “Yeah, but what happens after?”
He spoke barely above a whisper, his voice carrying a painful reminder of the ephemeral nature of our relationship. If given the option, I wouldn’t leave. Ever. But the choice wasn’t mine alone.
Taking a chance, I settled my hand over his, hope surging when he returned the gentle squeeze. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”
five
~ Tobias ~
Thestormspersistedoverthe next two days, blotting out the sun and soaking the city in heavy rains. Normally, I liked rainy days, finding them cozy rather than gloomy, but now, they just reminded me of Peter.
I didn’t know if he had been adept at hiding his feelings, or if I had just been that oblivious to his intentions, but the information had come as a complete shock. Worse, I didn’t really know how to feel about it.
Of course, a part of me felt flattered, but in that vague, fleeting way, like after receiving a compliment from a stranger. Another part of me struggled with feelings of guilt, worried that I had done something to lead him on or make him think I returned his interest.
Especially when I had only ever viewed him as a neighbor, not even a friend.
Sure, we had hung out a few times, but I wouldn’t turn to him when it really mattered.
Between Peter’s behavior that day and Warren’s warning, mostly, I just felt unsettled. Not afraid, exactly, but more worried than I wanted to admit.
It didn’t bother me that Peter hadn’t told me about being a shifter. Frankly, I didn’t think shadelings were under any obligation to reveal something that personal about themselves.
Now that I knew, though, it did make me question some of our previous interactions.
Like his random visits to “check on” me, and how they always seemed to coincide with some particularly stressful event. The day of Warren’s arrival, Peter had shown up on my doorstep not long after one of my episodes.
At the time, I hadn’t thought much of it, but now, I couldn’t help but wonder if it had been coincidence or something more.
Or the time I had arrived home with a trunk full of groceries, only for Peter to appear in my driveway, as if he’d been waiting just out of sight for an invitation. Again, I hadn’t given the incident much thought, but now, the interaction carried new weight.
Curled up on the sofa, I chewed my bottom lip as I replayed conversations, gestures, and looks that had passed between us, reviewing them through a different lens.
“You’re overthinking again,” Warren said, not looking up from his phone.
“Am not,” I muttered petulantly. “I’m thinking exactly the appropriate amount.”
Snorting, he turned off his screen and leaned forward to place the device on top of the cedar chest. “How about a distraction, then?”
