Wayward Wolf

Boy's Night

Raymond

Tonight's the first time in nearly two weeks that Eve hasn't been at my house making dinner. Apparently, her and her sisters-in-law get together at least once a month for a girls night. What that entails, I don't think I want to know. I want to be glad to get an evening to myself, but really, I hate it. She still hasn't spent the night at my house and I know she's waiting for me to ask her to, but I just can't do it. I'm too much of a pussy to ask her to stay even though I don't want her to leave. And now I don't get to see her again for almost forty-eight hours.

It's bullshit.

Most werewolf relationships progress much faster than this, and the courting period will continue on until we finish it. But I'm a twenty-seven-year-old virgin, who had his first kiss a couple weeks ago, so excuse me for taking my time. Truth be told, with being blind, I'm worried I'm going to be a fumbling mess the entire time. Men have a hard time finding the clit when both their eyes work, so I'm basically fucked.

I ate from the mountain of containers of leftovers in my fridge for both lunch and dinner, which is nice of Eve, but makes me feel useless since she's been making literally all of my food. Especially since she made a whole show of throwing all the frozen meals into the trashcan outside. She said if she saw another one of those things in my freezer, she'd string me up by my testicles. Frankie made a joke about bringing some anyway just to see if she'd actually do it.

Now I'm laying across my couch, a book laid open on my chest as I glare at the ceiling. Without Eve here, the whole day feels like it's been thrown off and I don't know what to do with myself. Also I haven't gotten a hug in a whole twenty-four hours and I didn't realize I'd be so fucking grumpy without one.

My wallowing is interrupted by the sound of a truck outside and at first I assume it's Frankie, but there's no squeaky fanbelt, so it can't be him. Who the fuck is at my house? I sit up and listen as three sets of feet walk up to my front door. The footsteps are heavy enough it must be men. I climb off the couch just as a knuckles rap repeatedly on my door. Is this some kind of man-sized child at my house?

As I open the door, a deep voice instantly starts talking. That'd be enough to tell me these are Eve's brothers without the familial undertone to their scents.

"Hi, I'm Trevor. We're Eve's brothers, though I'm sure you know that already. The one that smells like diapers and cookie crumbs is Travis and the one that stinks of teenage musk is Eli."

"I'm twenty years old, Trev," a voice grumbles.

"So what, you still smell like all yours socks are rock solid, my dude. It's gross, get cologne."

What are all of them doing at my house? An evening without Eve is bad enough, now I have all her fucking brothers standing in my doorway. And he isn't wrong, one does smell intensely of flour and baked goods, though it's the one that was talking a lot and not the one that's currently glaring through my head like he might be able to make it explode with his eyes. That one smells mostly like baby shampoo and talcum powder. The third one doesn't smell like much besides Old Spice and laundry detergent.

"Why?" is all I can seem to manage to ask.

"Because all the women abandoned us for the night, so we dumped all our kids on our poor mother and making tonight not just a girl's night, but a boy's night."

"Trev, this is the dumbest idea you've ever had. They've only been dating for two weeks," Travis, the baby shampoo smelling one, says.

Trevor huffs. "So what. Val was only dating you for two weeks when she took Eve to their first girl's night. And hopefully this one doesn't end up with you getting shot or stabbed."