Fighting the Wolves

Chapter Eight

I decided to face him. Maybe it's just time for me to do some questioning, to see if I can figure a way out of here with the information I find out.

Or, I'm starving and lunch sounds amazing right now.
Or that.

My stomach grumbles while I put my original clothes on, seeing as I had just finished my shower. I wrap my hair in the towel before exiting the bathroom, and padding my way down the hall where I remember the stairs to be. I go down slowly, even though my stomach is begging me to run as fast as I can to the kitchen. But I haven't eaten anything for such a long time, it's starting to affect me. My head is already spinning, whilst my eyes are starting to hurt, but I'll ignore it if I have to.

I wander around the first floor for a bit, I kind of forgot where the kitchen is. It's not my fault this house is so big. It doesn't take me long though, since the smell of food cooking wafted through the air. I just simply followed the wonderful smell till it got stronger. 

It probably would have taken me two seconds if I was a werewolf.
True.
But then the smell would be stronger and I would have eaten the whole damn house.

I enter the kitchen, opposite Jackson, who is sitting at the kitchen counter with his back to me. I can't help but let my gaze linger on his back, how his muscles show through his t-shirt. He's not an extremely muscular guy. He's more lean, but that's enough for me. It's perfect. Which is unfortunate for myself, seeing as I'm supposed to be hating this douche bag and trying to tell myself how ugly he is.

Jackson turns around in his seat, his eyes meeting mine. I ignore the shiver that threatens to chill my spine under his stare, instead I remind myself of all the pain he caused me over these last few years.

I hate him.
I hate him.
I hate him.

I force myself to continue into the kitchen, noticing the guy that walked into the bathroom on me, cooking. He looks up at me as I gawk at him. 

"Oh! It's you!" He exclaims, whilst pointing a spatula at me. I simply nod my head before noticing that he's cooking a delicious looking quesadilla. My mouth waters a bit at the sight of food. He follows my gaze onto his current project, before smiling at me.

"This is yours. It's just about done." He says before pressing it with his spatula, earning a sizzling sound from the griddle. He then grabs a plate and uses the spatula to flip the quesadilla on top of it, then proceeding to dollop a large scoop of sour cream, and a large scoop of guacamole.

I clear my thought before pointing at the delicious guacamole.

"Can I have a bit more guac?" His smile grows bigger as he puts a second large scoop on top of the first.
"A girl after my own heart!" He exclaims while handing me the plate. I chuckle as I place my plate onto the counter, sitting in a barstool as far from Jackson as possible, before digging into the quesadilla, finally giving in to my hunger.

A low grumble of disapproval is heard from my left, obviously from Jackson, but I ignore him.

"So, does the perv have a name?" I glance at the dark skinned boy opposite me. He looks confused before laughing out loud.
"You're the one who didn't lock the door! It's not my fault." I gesture my hand forwards, pointing out that he still hasn't giving me a name for himself.
"The name's Cameron. What about you?" He asks, resting on his elbows.
"Amelia." I say in between bites, I savor the flakey, cheesey goodness of the quesadilla, trying my hardest not to glance at Jackson, who I know is glaring holes into my head.
"That's a pretty name, for a pretty girl." Cameron smiles, his white teeth making the flirting seem more genuine.