Lost in Translation

Chapter 10: Ambush Tactics

———Ben———

Sunday, May 5th, 2019

For the first ten minutes of my walk home from Anthony's, I floated on a cloud, still giddy at my success in making him blush, but by the time I hit the halfway point, that fuzzy feeling had started to fade as small, sharp pangs of anxiety began to surface.

What if that was too forward? What if I just got carried away, and he doesn't want to get to know me at all? What if—

I groaned and shook my head as if I could dislodge my intrusive thoughts. I wandered through backroads and cut through a park, grumbling to myself as I made it further away from the town center. Streetlights faded to scattered porch lights until I was left with little else but the moon and stars.

I usually didn't mind the dark. Nothing out here on pack land could do a full-grown werewolf damage, even if it wanted to. But I wouldn't deny heaving a little sigh of relief when I started up the gravel driveway, the comforting sight of home easing my muddled and murky thoughts a bit.

I smiled as I passed the hydrangeas that marked the start of the chaotic garden that had slowly spread across the yard and down towards the mailbox painted with a fading floral design. Several magnolia trees stood, reaching protectively over the wide driveway on the side away from the house. The scent of their flowers thick on the air and the crunch of the gravel beneath my feet further soothed my worried mind until the anxiety returned to a manageable buzz.

Our house was cramped for seven residents, but not exactly small. It was a four-bedroom, two-story house with a wrap-around covered porch. The porch was littered with rocking chairs, gardening supplies, and various sports equipment placed there once upon a time until a suitable place to store them had been decided, but never was.

A small metal lean jutted off the side of the house over the gravel drive as a sort of pseudo-garage. My dark green pick-up truck was parked off to the side, uncovered. As protective as I was of my truck (I used it so much more than Mom and Dad did their vehicles), it wasn't worth getting stuck boxed in every time I parked there.

I climbed the creaky, worn steps to the front door and let myself in. I kicked off my shoes at the door and made my way through the entryway and past the stairs into the kitchen. Bowls of varying sizes were scattered across the counter space and the kitchen island, and a light coating of flour was on just about everything, including my mom, who was bustling around the center of all the mess.

"Uh, everything ok, Mom?" I asked.

"Benji!" She exclaimed brightly and tucked a rogue lock of her curly brown hair behind one ear. "I didn't hear you come in. Everything's fine. Just doing a little baking. Why?"

"Cause it's like 9pm. Also, this seems more than a little," I answered.

She glanced around in surprise before checking the stove clock. "Oh, I suppose it is. Guess I got a little carried away. Do you want anything? I made cookies, and brownies, and some vegan—"

"It's alright, Mom, I'm good," I interrupted, suddenly feeling really worn out.

"Are you sure? You look like you could use some chocolate," she said with a squint. "Everything ok, Benji?"

"Yeah, of course, just a little tired," I said, throwing up the most convincing smile I could. I don't know why. I know my parents would be more than supportive if I told them I found a potential mate no matter who they were, but I didn't feel up to hashing out everything with my mom right now.