Vo'ke

One

"'Rugaru' is not actually a Native American word, but rather a Michif pronunciation of the French phrase "loup garou," meaning "wolf-man." Some stories about Rugaru come from French werewolf legends, some are adaptations of Algonquian Windigo legends about man-eating ice monsters, and some are combinations of the two."

The pub was beginning to get warm, and that's how I knew I was starting to get drunk. 

Louis sat across from me, sipping a lukewarm beer as he appraised a group of girls having a go at the pool table, neglecting completely the fact that the opposing team seemed to be made entirely up of their boyfriends. Louis was always on the hunt.

"The blonde one is pretty fit," he told me quietly, despite the loud buzz of conversation that surrounded us. This was classified information for my ears only, made even more pronounced when one of the bulky guys from the rowing team snaked his arm around her waist. 

Louis didn't seem bothered by this, either. 

Something I'd always found amusing about Louis was his inability to give a fuck when it came to whichever girl he was persuing. He was absolutely ruthless, ready to give his all into the chase without a second's thought to the consequences. In some ways, he was very much drawn to the action and drama of it all.

The alternative side of this, of course, was Louis' ability to fall for girls so easily. Sure, he'd play it off like he was in it for the sex or just to mess with whatever other guy was into her at the time, but we both knew that wasn't true. I'd humor him and go along with it, but only beause that's what friends do.

In fact, the blonde at the pool table was none other than Lisa Richards. She was in Louis' business administration class, a fact I learned because I'd dropped off a textbook he'd left at my flat and walked with him to the class itself on my way to accounting. 

He didn't know I knew that, though, so I went along with the 'random fit girl at the pool table' charade.

I watched him with vague amusement as I gulped down the last of my own beer. His eyes never strayed from Lisa as she bent over the table and tilted her head to make a shot, one eye squinted shut as her tongue darted out between her lips. 

If Liam were there, we would be making bets on how long it would last. He wasn't there, though. He was at a presentation with Niall. A presentation I suddenly realized I was late for.

Shit.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Louis asked, starting at my sudden movements. In less than a second, I'd had my coat pulled on and a bill thrown on the table to pay for my tab.