An Enchanted Night

17*Who Are You?

Adam is staring at her. Her, but who is she? He knows who she isn't. That's obvious. As he studies her for clues, the Moon casts a heavenly glow upon her, the dress she wears a blinding, sparkling white. He's struck with enchantment. Adam realizes as she stares back, that maybe she is, too.

"Have we met?" Adam asks with a chuckle, curious to hear her talk. She's staring, and he wants to know why. Surely, he thinks, he doesn't look nearly as angelic as she does.

At first, she meekly shakes her head no. Then, she quietly says, "But your howl is fairly recognizable."

"That was the point," he says mostly to himself, then eyes her, "although I'm not sure how you know it."

"What?" she asks in breathless disbelief, and Adam realizes he might've sounded accusatory.

"I thought you were my sister," he answers, and watches her reaction. There it is, the pity. It was there for a fraction of a second before she tried to cover it up again. Adam turns to leave when she quickly attempts to recover, opening her mouth silently to protest his decision.

She sputters a few words out before she pointedly shouts, "Well, you were rather loud back there on your motorcycle!"

Adam halts his movements and turns to face her again. This time, she's wearing a look of determination. She's trying to steer the conversation away from his pain. He has to give her credit, most people choke up and stay quiet, nervous to continue any kind of conversation. "Purple sedan?"

"Uh huh," she nods her head vigorously, crossing her arms.

He's questioning how he forgot those gorgeous blue eyes looking back at him, huge from shock. "Sorry, I was having a moment," Adam laughs.

She silently nods and responds, "Just don't do it again, you almost ran us off the road."

"Agreed," he says as she goes to sit back down. She brings the flower back to her nose and he crosses the clearing to join her, accepting her silent invitation. He thinks it's funny, really, since this is his clearing, after all. His and his sister's.

"Why do you do it," she politely asks.

"Do what?" He acts, hoping she'll notice his hesitance to talk about it and move onto a new subject.

She eyes him softly and says, "You know what."

Adam doesn't answer right away. He's not sure he can trust her, he has no idea who she even is. He doesn't recognize her from around town, doesn't know her name, her agenda for asking him to spill his feelings. Then, he realizes that she's the perfect person to talk to, because he doesn't know her. She doesn't know him. There is no judgment in her eyes.

"It was me and my sister's thing," he vaguely answers, before she gives him another look to continue. "My mom called us her wolf cubs. We embraced it," Adam shrugs.

She breaks eye contact with him before she quietly confesses, "I heard what happened."

Adam hastily stands and turns away from her. He knew it was too good to be true. She's not as unaware as he hoped. He hears her shuffle around to watch him from where she's sitting and he grumpily mutters, "Of course you did. The whole town did."

She sighs and utters in defense, "Well I just heard. I'm not from here."

"And where is it that you're from, huh?" he spins back to face her, angry that she knows his deepest, darkest sadness and he doesn't even know her name.

"Suburb of Pittsburg," she answers easily, no hesitation.

"Who are you, and why are you out here, alone?"

"I could ask the same of you," she grins.

"No, you already know who I am," Adam shakes his head, disagreeing.

She pauses and replies, "Do I?"

Adam is frustrated now, "What?"

She gets up and walks over to him. "I only know what my friend told me. Are you telling me some second-hand information means I know you?"

He takes a deep breath, "Well it's more than I know about you. Why are you even here tonight, if you're new? This gathering is for locals."

"I live here now, and my friend invited me."

"The same friend who felt the need to gossip about me?" Adam raises his brows in anger.

She looks down and readjusts her tone, "That was wrong of her, you're right. It wasn't her business to tell. But she had no intention to further your pain."

"They never do," Adam says and sits back down, "but it doesn't mean it still doesn't hurt."

"I know," she says, joining him on the ground again, "that's why I'm out here, by myself."

He looks at her, his interest piqued as she gives him an opening to talk about her life now, "Might you elaborate?"

"Some people have so much self-confidence that they forget others don't," she begins, pulling her hands together and fidgeting. "My friend, she means well, but she doesn't see it. She doesn't notice that I don't like talking about myself, that I don't like attention on me."

He nods, encouraging her to continue.

"In Pittsburg, my friends just knew. They knew when I was uncomfortable and they let me be. But Abigail doesn't."

"Did you tell her?" Adam asks.

"What?"

"Did you tell her, how sometimes you need her to back off, give you time?" He looks at her with wide eyes, for emphasis.

"Well," she looks away, "no. But shouldn't she just know?"

"Not if you don't tell her. You can't hold it against her if you never tell her."

"I'm not holding it against her though," she says matter-of-factly.

"Hiding out here isn't holding it against her?" Adam smirks at her.

She looks back at him, dumb-founded, like she'd never considered this. "But she's my friend, I don't want to lose her."

"You'd be surprised at how good friends tend to stick around, as long as you're honest with them."

"Do you speak from experience?" she wonders.

"Yeah," Adam smiles, thinking of Benji, "I do."