Page 3 of The Forbidden Wolf

No more me.

As it should be.

Chapter Two

A vicious wind caught the corners of my open jacket, peeling them away from my midriff the second I stepped foot on the sidewalk. I quickly shoved my hands in my pockets, forcing the fleece-lined fabric back into place before anyone noticed the sliver of black shiftskin visible between my T-shirt and jeans. I’d accidentally snagged a pair of millennial low-riders at the thrift store where I stocked my Just a Normal Human wardrobe, and they were not built for maintaining secret identities. Or any other secrets really.

Nice tail clearance though…

Stop, I hissed as my tailbone began to itch. My wolf wouldn’t dare reveal herself on the street unless there were an emergency, but she could make me squirm like an eight-week-old pup who needed to be wormed. I reached back and hiked the waistband as high as it would go because I was apparently not above giving myself a wedgie in the name of being petty. The itching subsided. The chafing remained. Ah, shiftskins.

I minced my way over to the corner where Charlie and Jayla were already huddled under the bright yellow boxes that contained the pedestrian traffic signals. Charlie bounced on her heels and blew steamy air into her hands while Jayla alternated between aggressively rubbing and slapping her own upper arms. The concept of spring was totally lost on New York City at two in the morning.

“Where the hell is Evan?” Jayla asked through chattering teeth.

“You know exactly where he is.” I rolled my eyes while peeling long, blonde strands of hair away from them, strands the wind promptly plastered across my lips instead.

Jayla’s jaw clenched. “If he doesn’t leave that poor man alone…”

“You have to admire his persistence,” Charlie said with a dreamy sigh. “I wish someone would—”

“Harass you at the coffee shop?” Jayla snorted. “He’s going to get all of us banned from the theater. If Elyse doesn’t do it first. Trying to fight that man—”

My mouth fell open. “That’s not what I—”

“Uh-huh.” Jayla twisted her lips and shook her head. “If you say so.”

“I was just curious,” I whined. “I thought we were alone.”

“You don’t need to be making eye contact with any dudes who go see The Princess Bride alone at midnight.” Jayla grimaced. “Creep.”

“We don’t know if he was alone,” I pouted. “Since you wouldn’t let me look at him.”

“He was alone.” Jayla’s eyes darted around the empty sidewalks in all directions. “And looking for someone else who was alone. I wish you’d—”

“Oh, stop.” Charlie waved a dismissive hand. “There are plenty of reasons why a man would go watch The Princess Bride alone in the middle of the night. Starting with how people would judge him for going alone in broad daylight also. For all you know, he was there to relive his first date with the recently deceased love of his life.”

Jayla cocked her head and arched an eyebrow. “So, you don’t want Elyse to get a ride?”

“I always want Elyse to get a ride, but she never has, and she never will, so don’t scare her.” Charlie shot me a pointed look. “Confidence is the key to safety.”

Jayla snorted. “Take it from the woman who wakes up every damn day and chooses to do cupcake cosplay.” She reached over and flicked the little white bow on the pink headband keeping Charlie’s lustrous auburn locks out of her eyes.

Charlie jerked her head away and then smoothed her wildly flapping skirt down over her knees. “Listen, I didn’t move to New York to dress like I’m still down on the farm.”

That she did not. In four years of friendship, I’d never seen Charlie wear jeans of any style. She always wore these cute vintage ensembles that reminded me of Tracy in Hairspray. The original 1988 John Waters film, not the 2007 musical reboot, which I had never seen because I could only watch movies on Fridays and Saturdays when the Last Century Cinema only played pictures from the 80s and 90s respectively. The number of movies I’d seen from outside those two decades could be counted on two and a half hands.

When I told Charlie how much she reminded me of Tracy, Evan’s eyes had nearly popped out of his skull. He’d started frantically shaking his head behind her back, which of course made me stare at him like he’d gone crazy. Charlie turned to him with her trademark sweet smile and politely asked him to explain why he thought it was insulting that she reminded me of someone so smart, talented, beautiful, funny, and fierce as Tracy Turnblad.

Evan could not. I still didn’t know what his problem had been, but just in case humans weren’t supposed to compare each other to movie stars, I had refrained from ever telling him how much he reminded me of the tall, dark, and handsome real best friend in My Best Friend’s Wedding. Minus the dreamy British accent, thank gods, or else my hopeless teenage crush would have been a lot harder to shake.

The theater’s double glass doors burst open, and Evan emerged backward with a sack of popcorn tucked in the crook of each arm. He tossed a swoop of chocolate brown hair from his bright blue eyes, smiled back into the cinema, and shouted, “Text you tomorrow!”

Jayla’s jaw came unhinged. Charlie and I each slapped a hand over our own giggling mouths. The doors slammed shut, and the bright lobby lights shut off, casting our corner into deeper shadows. Evan strutted over, his boyish dimples belying his attempt at a nonplussed smirk.

“No way,” Jayla sputtered. “You did not get The Snack’s digits.”

Evan’s grin broke loose. “Girl, I’m getting all the concessions tomorrow. Pay up.”

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