Chocolate Deluxe with a side of Werewolf

Eighteen. The Cold Sister-in-Law

Emily's volleyball game started forty-five minutes ago and Dylan was running late because his hockey practice took longer than expected. When Dylan pulled into New Hampshire High's parking lot, he very nearly bolted out of his car at full speed. If it were up to him, Dylan would've reached the gymnasium in seconds. However, all the nearby mundane witnesses prevented things from going his way. And so, at a pain-staking slow pace, Dylan walked into Emily's high school. 

Luckily for Dylan, he quickly found the gymnasium thanks to his keen senses. He could hear the game before his eyes found the precise location. The sounds of shoes squeaking against the polished floor, girls shouting commands, and the ball being hit repeatedly alerted Dylan that Emily's volleyball match was still in play. 

He walked right into the gym, and his eyes instantly found his mate. She stood near the back right corner of the court, knees bent and arms ready. Her eyes were focused on the opposing team who was winding up a spike hit. The ball pierced the air, heading straight for an opening on the home court, but Emily jumped for the ball, and made contact, keeping the ball in play. 

Dylan stood motionless, captivated by Emily's fluidity and dedication to the game. Emily looked ultra-cute in her home jersey and spandex shorts. Dylan found his eyes travelling down Emily's luscious figure and stopped when he reached her behind, caught off guard by how voluptuous they were. Dylan couldn't take his eyes off of them. Emily's curves entranced him, yearning to trace his hands all over them. All at once, he was slammed with the urge to walk over to Emily and steal her from the court and all these peering eyes. He wanted to take her somewhere private; somewhere where he could remove her clothing delicately, embrace her, and show her just how smitten he was by her.

Dylan shook his head. He'd lose control of himself if his thoughts trailed off any further and the last thing he needed was to do something stupid. Instead, Dylan forced his eyes away from Emily and looked to the bleachers. There was a substantial crowd present, mostly teenagers and parents. Dylan's blood ran cold at the possibility that Emily's family could be here. His eyes scanned the crowd frantically while he tried to think of something appropriate to say to them. Should he start with a mundane topic like the weather or jump straight into his progress report?  

The option of running away was starting to sound like a good idea, but then Dylan noticed a girl waving at him. For a second, he wasn't sure if she was waving at him or not. He looked behind him but saw no one there. When Dylan looked back at the girl, she was still trying to get his attention. He could see her from where he stood at the bottom of the stairs. She was a girl of African descent with a pixie cut and wore a casual plaid, long sleeve dress with black leggings and black ankle boots. She looked familiar, and so Dylan walked up to her. 

"Dylan, right?" The dark-skinned girl asked politely. 

"Yup." 

"Sorry for waving you down randomly like that when you don't even know who I am. It's nice to meet you officially. I'm Willow, one of Emily's friends."

Dylan instantly recognized Willow after her introduction. He remembered seeing her at Margarette's Cafe when he first asked Emily out in front of her friends. Willow was one of the three friends present that day. 

"And I'm Zofia," said the Caucasian girl sitting beside Willow. She had medium length, straight dirty-blonde hair. She wore a grey wool sweater with ripped jeans and Converse. Dylan also remembered Zofia from the cafe. 

"I'm Dylan," Dylan said automatically then smiled cheekily at his impulse, "but you guys already knew that." 

Willow chuckled. "We sure do. Emily's always talking about you," she said with a knowing smile.