Lycanthropy and Me: The First Semester(mlm)

Day 54, Wednesday. Waxing Gibbous (Part Five)

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Somehow, between the hum of the radiator, and the cackling of a laugh track from the tv, Hunter heard the delivery car. He eased away from Colton, this time reaching for his empty mug slowly as if he was going toward the kitchen.

He paced his steps carefully, making sure he was halfway between the kitchenette and the couch when the bell rang. The money was already on the table he held his hand out for it.

"Oh." Colton reached for the money, frowning. "I can just get it."
Hunter gave him an exaggerated hand gesture and an eye roll. Enough to convey, I'm already standing.

Colton hesitated.

Hunter stared at him.

The delivery guy began to bang on the door.

Hunter turned, head whipping back and forth to look from Colton to the door.

Colton handed him the cash, with a sigh of annoyance.

Hunter snatched it and headed for the door. Don't look back, he told himself. Don't flinch.

He rubbed his hands together before smoothing down his shirt. A normal gesture from Colton's perspective. He was sure. He had to be sure. He could feel those eyes watching him.

Keep moving. Act normal.

He unlocked the door, one hand reaching into his pocket. He added the note to the dollar bills in his hand. Footsteps started behind him.

Hunter clenched his teeth together. Don't flinch, don't sweat. He can smell you. Keep calm.

The bored young man who held their order was looking around when Hunter opened the door.

"Oh, thank God." He sighed. "I was afraid some psycho lured me up here."

Hunter exhaled slowly to prevent himself from laughing. You have no idea.

Two more steps. Colton was right behind him now. "Can you carry it?"

"Uh, that'll be twenty-six dollars please." The delivery boy wheezed. Under the harsh light of an overhead post, his features were sharp.

Hunter wondered if he could see the fear in his face.

Hunter handed over the cash and note, flattening his hand against the boy's palm. The brush of human contact seemed to register, but he slid the cash into a jacket pocket and thrust the pizza box forward.

"Thank you." Colton said, reaching for the plastic bag hanging from the boy's wrist. "I'm sure it was a long drive. Have a good night."

Hunter looked back at the driver as he moved back into the house, but all he saw was a retreating back before Colton closed the door.

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"I don't mean to be rude." Colton wiped his face with a cheap napkin. "But this pizza was terrible."

Hunter gave a non-committal shrug. They were both from New York after all. Anything this far from the East Coast was going to taste strange.

"The stuff on campus isn't any better." Colton continued. "But there's a nice place about two blocks from my place. I'll take you there. As an apology for...this."

Hunter looked up from his pizza to Colton's face. That had been a joke. He was supposed to smile, or laugh. He chewed.

The charming fantasy of moving down to New York City and running around Manhattan was as good as dead. There would be no cute lunches at the local pizzeria. No Sundays at the Met.

Colton could hold on to what little scraps of hope he had. The minute that note was discovered, the very second the cops arrived it would be all over.

So Hunter waited.

And waited.

And waited.

But help never arrived that night.