Adam let out a tense, somewhat confused laugh. Part of him knew she was pulling his leg, her humor dry as ever. But Adam didn’t know the ins and outs of werewolf dynamics or politics. Whatever it was. With sirens and harpies, there wasn’t as much structure. You shared the same water? Establish boundaries and ground rules with each other. If you got along, maybe you’ll be friends. If not, well, find a new pond. “You know, I weirdly wouldn’t be surprised,” he said, letting an uneasy laugh escape his lips as he nodded a head at her. “Is it like a sorority? You can’t tell me what actually went down at initiation? I’ll respect it,” he said, raising his hands up like a surrender. He was lying though, pretending he wasn’t actually interested. He knew Kelsie was in the pack and had been with the former Alpha. Kelsie was his friend and sweet as a peach, he couldn’t exactly picture her going along with a blood oath or virgin sacrifice.
He watched as Astrid seemed to mull over her response to his question and he realized he was feeling anticipation. Eagerness? Nerves? Whatever it was, it told him that maybe he wanted her to stay. Their banter was easy and effortless, and no matter how hard they tried to do anything different, their paths kept converging. Adam wasn’t religious or even particularly spiritual, but he was starting to feel like it was a sign. Of what, he couldn’t put his finger on it. He attempted nonchalance as she spoke, eating another neon-orange dorito from the bag.
“That’s good. I can count on more vending machine snacks, then?” he countered, quirking an eyebrow at her and smirking. He could tell he was getting too close. As exciting as it was, he didn’t really like how this felt: like he was a hunter and she was a rabbit; heart racing, waiting to flee. But he didn’t feel predatory towards her. Maybe that wasn’t the right analogy. He just wanted to know her. Be there to support her, protect her. They’d already fallen into that rhythm, so where was the trust? Astrid was hard to reach, and maybe that’s why Adam kept stretching. He shook that away and chuckled at her reply. “I knew you’d call me out on my whining about being single someday,” he said, pointing at her. “Some of us hate it, lone ranger. I know that might be a bit of a foreign concept to you,” he teased before sobering up a little. He wanted her to stay in town and see through whatever was haunting her. Overcome it, find stability. Isn’t that what everyone wanted, at their core? “Besides, now you’re in a pack. I’m sure there’s plenty of guys– or girls, I don’t jude– who, you know. Get it. The wolf thing.”
It was stupid, Astrid knew, to feel ashamed of having to admit to submitting to someone. She’d been on guard for so long that it was an innate need to protect herself at all costs. To submit was to die. To admit it was to admit weakness. It was hard to grasp the idea that there was possibility for a life outside of that. She didn’t know who she was without that part of herself that remained forever on guard, forever locked in fight or flight. She crossed her arms, closing up. “You have to bow your head lower than the alpha’s. You have to submit in front of the pack and either you’re acknowledged and accepted or chased out of the territory.” Her words were injected with false lightness, but she tried again, achieving something a bit more genuine, lighter. “Good for me that I’ve got an in with the alpha. But a lot less fun than blood oaths and sorority pillow fights.”
She lost herself in the easiness of the banter, shaking off the inadequacies and the feeling of weakness and shrugged a shoulder. “You’re a cheap date,” she said around another small mouthful of Sour Patch Kids. “My favorite kind.”
She wasn’t sure what she’d been waiting for, what she’d wanted him to say, but disappointment crawled through her veins like ice. She pushed. She pushed and pushed and pushed people away and then had the nerve to wonder why she’d never be able to turn around and find someone still standing there. It wasn’t that she loved being single, she just didn’t know how else to be. Getting real was what scared her most. Getting close to anything even resembling love again was also a type of submission. She liked to flirt with danger, but she didn’t like to knowingly put herself in the middle of it. She was nothing but a scared little girl at her core. As much as it shamed her to admit even to herself. His words felt like a dismissal, like an arrow pointing her away from him. At least that was something familiar. At least she understood rejection, carried it within like veins or bones. She wrapped herself up in it, settled deep within its cold icy grip. “Please,” she said, her voice sounding breezy, so much easier than the words actually felt to form. “I don’t even get the wolf thing. But it’s like you said: I’m the lone ranger. Why mess with a good thing, right?”
