Hunter's Moon

Box of Chocolates

After Steak 'n' Shake, I had gone to the mall and sent Elliot an apology text, asking if he wanted to hang out at the mall, but he didn't reply. So I had idly wandered the mall until I knew I had to be home so Mom could use the car for work, going into each store and looking at everything three times over.

The ride home had been horrible. Dread stirred deep in the pit of my stomach. I didn't want to see Lincoln again. I knew for sure he was going to yell at me and I felt like I couldn't take anymore. Who did he think he was anyway? Why did he think he could yell at me for nothing in particular and then expect us to be one the same page and be a happy little couple?

I had been planning on seeing him on the front porch and when he wasn't there, relief sank in. I didn't fully relax until I checked every inch of the house, just to be sure. I helplessly plopped into bed, letting the stress and exhaustion take over.

The midafternoon sun shone brightly through my window despite my curtains. I squinted and tossed my arm over my eyes, not wanting to get up yet. I jolted when I looked at the time. Lincoln still hadn't come yet? Was he not coming at all? Panic fled through me. Or was he waiting this out and hoping my guilt would take over and send me back to him begging on my knees?

Well, if he wanted that, he wasn't getting it. If he wanted me back, he could march his pretty little butt back over here and apologize. I was through with his cockiness and arrogance. He needed a reality check if he thought he could boss me around.

I took a shaky breath to calm my nerves but it didn't help any. I was still on full alert, ready for the moment Lincoln wound pounce unexpectedly and catch me in his one of many traps. He would, too. That's the kind of guy he was, I knew already. He would either thunder up to his victim and repeatedly berate them mercilessly or he would wait it out until they were ready to beg for forgiveness, their guilt having swallowed them whole.

But—dear Lord—why couldn't this be easier? With every new thought of standing up for myself appearing in my head, my heart panged painfully as if I was separating myself from the man I had loved for a hundred years instead of only a couple weeks. Something was ripping me apart from the inside, beckoning me to Lincoln's side, knowing it was the only real place for me to be.

He makes you feel safe, the voice in my head whispered—which was not mine, by the way. Delicate yet sturdy. Weak but strong. It makes you lust after him despite all rational thought.

Lust? Whoa! What? I immediately cut the voice off, not liking where it was taking me. I would not go down that road, especially at a time like this. Because I most certainly was not lusting after Lincoln Faelen. If I was, then wouldn't I have already...you know... with him? Isn't that what lust always brought you to, no matter if you were emotionally attached or not?

Lincoln had to know I felt for him more than I was letting on. The statement at Steak 'n Shake proved it.

Gah! That stupid statement! As if he had a right to tell Elliot that I had already, obviously, chosen Lincoln as my boyfriend! What was his deal anyway? A few hot kisses didn't amount to anything. I had already concluded this. If the boy wanted to be with me, he had better ask before he even thinks about kissing me again.

The memory of the kiss in the woods, after I had found him naked, brought heat flooding into my cheeks. The way he had thrust against me seemed so primal, so raw, and I wanted to feel that again, especially with his possessive lips taking over my own.

I slapped myself in the face, reminding me to get back and stay on track. After all, Lincoln couldn't be the only boy who made me feel like this, all hot and sweaty just thinking about his lips on mine again. There had to be others. Like Elliot. It had been the reason I had sought after him. I had wanted to find a suitable replacement for Lincoln, one excluding the sudden jumps in my pulse and the racing of my adrenaline just seeing the way his bangs fell over his startling deep brown eyes.

I could feel that way for Elliot, given the time and space required, so long as Lincoln stepped out my life for, oh, the rest of my life. I didn't believe in soul mates and there was no way I was going to peg that for being the reason behind Lincoln's and my instant attraction. Those such things didn't happen—ever. It was nothing but a misconception delivered to the brain, a hallucination of sorts. No two souls could be so similar in character to be considered "soul mates" when no two humans could look perfectly alike, not even identical twins. If the human body couldn't replicate, how could the soul?

Shaking my head furiously, I tried wiping it clean of those thoughts. I was turning into a philosopher, all because some boy decided to waltz in my life and ruin—or, more accurately, set right—everything. Just seeing him that first day made my blood freeze and my face grew warm and my brain drained, leaving me dizzy. Sophie hadn't been able to tell but I had felt something snap between us, like a steel cable, but stronger somehow. His look of equal shock had done things to me I can't even explain for fear of sounding crazy.

I flipped the pancake I didn't even remember cooking, let alone making the batter. I checked the pan to see two more pancakes and flipped those as well. I checked the bowl I normally used for batter and saw it was filled with the normal amount—enough to make five to seven pancakes. I checked the plate on the side of the stove and realized three pancakes there as well.

How had so much time gone by without me realizing? I checked the clock. 12:17. I had gone all morning without a single peep from Lincoln. A part of me cheered at my ability to tune him out so quickly while the other part panicked.

A knock sounded on the door and I startled, flipping the pancake on the spatula onto the counter. My heart picked up its pace, thrumming through my chest. Had Lincoln finally shown up?

Why did that thought sound so excited?

I turned the pan lower and set the spatula down after moving the pancake to the plate. Slowly making my way to the door, I tried steadying my heart back down. If Lincoln was here, it wasn't for anything good. The second I opened the door would be the same second Lincoln would start his tirade.

A mailman stood there, dressed in all brown. How did I not realize the large truck?

"Can I help you?" I asked when I opened the door.

He grinned at me. "Hello. Are you Elizabeth Hawkins?" I nodded. "Then yes, you can. Can you sign this?" He handed me a clipboard.

Confused, I took the clipboard and signed my name at the bottom of the sheet.

"Here's your package!" He thrust a box at my chest. "Thank you for working with us!"

I had barely grabbed the box before he let go of it and headed back to his truck. I checked the return posting but didn't recognize the place. I hadn't even ordered anything.

Back inside, I took out a sharp knife and opened the box. Peanuts practically sprang out, jumping all over the kitchen floor. I brushed the rest away and revealed a giant box of chocolates. There was a paper stuck to the top.

I picked up the paper while thinking, Do they really ship boxed chocolates? with a little laugh. When I opened it and saw "My Liza," I closed it again and tossed it and the box of chocolates in the trash. Was he trying to sweeten me up?

Frustrated with myself, I finished making the pancakes, stuffed five off them down, and put the other three in the fridge to save for another day. I quickly washed the dishes, placing them in the dish rack to dry. Finished, I heaved a sigh and looked out at the window for a while, before turning around—

And screamed.