Chapter 4
There was a reflection that stared back at you that was vaguely reminiscent of what you had been before the attack. The counter dug into your palms, the mirror fogging with each, long breath that you took. The sink was nearly filled with water now, so you flicked it off.
Just one more minute, and you’d walk back out there with your shoulders pulled back and a tense smile on your face- because you were calm, collected, and entirely okay with the whole werewolf thing. It prickled under your skin, the knowledge of it. The bite throbbed against your side.
One more breath, one more minute.
There was a soft knock at the door that startled you from your thoughts. You were sweating, and it was awkward to swallow the dryness on your tongue. When you opened the door, Kate was on the other side. She had discarded the sweatshirt, stood uncomfortably with her hands in her jean pockets and a shy smile on her face.
“Hi,” She cupped the back of her neck “have a second to talk?”
“Uh-huh”
You’d taken the first break from conversation to excuse yourself to the bathroom for the specific reason that you felt a panic attack coming on. Your mind barely had time to grasp the fact that you should be dead, but the girl who had plunged you into this situation in the first place had lured you to a creepy murder compound.
It had been forty-five minutes of tense conversation and you were still breathing. Of course, you’d also done nothing but lose the moisture in your mouth and nod along as Clint and Natasha explained the logistics.
You peered down the long hallway, lined with different black and white photos of places around the world. Places that you would never see. You were resigned to the fact that Paris was out of reach, and South Africa would rot away at the bottom of your bucket-list. How bad would it be if you turned into a werewolf on a plane instead of in an Olive Garden?
Kate seemed to sense your spiral, just like she seemed to sense a lot of things. Her tough was gentle, fingers brushing against your own. She led you down that long hallway and to a room that was saturated in her scent.
Posters were against the walls; a muddled bedspread was bunched as if someone had fitfully slept on it. There was a desk with a laptop layered in different stickers. There were books that were sloppily piled on a shelf, and once space had worn away on the wooden structure, they were stacked on the floor.
Kate closed the door, leaned against it and closed her eyes. There were towels on the back of the door. Her scent was overwhelming in here, an instant comfort that eased the prickling of your skin. It was so clearly hers, so comfortable. Light flitted through the blinds, an oscillating fan was draped with a t-shirt, hardly stirring the air.
“I’m really sorry about them.” She rushed out, finally opening her eyes.
You turned and stared at her with a cocked eyebrow. She carried the same type of embarrassment that you harbored during family holidays. There was always that one cousin, always that uncle who was overcompensating and that mother who had a cold, unforgiving gaze because she’d been in the kitchen for too long.
“I was going to ease you into it, really. But you never really know what the vibe is going to be until you’re… here.”
“It’s alright.”
“It is?” She pushed off the door. She was taller than you, and the furrow of her brow was nothing but genuine. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but Natasha and Clint, they’re just trying to help. But they’ve been like this for a long time now. I think sometimes they forget how overwhelming it can be.”
“Uh-huh,”
You repeated yourself, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. You flopped down onto the corner of Kate’s bed, breathing in that hint of lavender and musk that she carried. Your legs were suddenly giving out. Kate was careful with her movements, tentatively sitting on the same side of the bed as you.
Her pinky was close to yours; you could feel the heat and it was overwhelming. But she didn’t’ dare touch you. The seats on the bus had pinned you closer together, but somehow, this was more intimate.
You hadn’t exactly leaned into your college experience, and maybe that had something to do with it. You’d never been in a girls room, much less someone who had dug their canine teeth deep into the flesh of your shoulder.
“I just…” You paused, trying to think of your words very carefully. “I did everything right. I had a plan. I was the first one to graduate from high school- granted, my mother got her GED, but that’s not the point. The point is- I graduated and got into college and did everything right.”
Kate clenched and unclenched her jaw. She wouldn’t look you in the eye, and you had every single right to be angry with her. But there was something deep down that ebbed through the white-hot anger and the bubbling confusion. Something that was akin to fondness. To danger.
“I screwed all of that up.”
“Yeah,” You sighed, “You did.”
There was a hurt in Kate’s eye that stung, just knowing that you caused a fraction of it. But, on the other hand, there was a quiet resolution to it as well. It had just been a flicker before it moved to understanding. Kate’s palm was like fire. She set it on your knee.
“You have every right to hate me. I hate me, y/n. I wouldn’t wish my fate on anyone, and then I had a moment of relapse and I forced it on you.” She moved her thumb, you noticed every electrifying moment. “There is nothing I can do that will ever make up for that night. If you walk out that door and never speak to me again, that’s understandable.”
You laughed, the sound watery, and choked “I don’t think Natasha would allow that.”
There was a sparkle in her eye that quickly faded, the corners of her lips turning up into the slightest bit of a smile. She frowned to cover her amusement, and you found yourself wanting to reach up and rub that little crease from between brows.
“Right. Yeah,” There was a breathy noise, “What now?”
Your question had lingered on the way home, Kate’s worried glances as she maneuvered a truck that was older than you, kept your nerves in check. This was better than the bus, you decided, even if there was no air conditioning, there was a small crack in each window that allowed the icy air to fill your lungs.
Part of you had been content to borrow Kate’s clothes and simply vanish. It would be easier that way, you figured, not having to rush out a pain-staking goodbye to America and MJ. Though, it wasn’t a goodbye, it was just a ‘see you later’ when they had lives and partners and careers.
“They’ll be resistant.” You had said as the trees began to thin out with architectural bliss. “You know that, right?”
Kate puffed out her chest comedically, “I can take them.”
“MJ, yes. America? I thought she juiced for the first two years of our friendship, and we were six.”
Kate smiled then, and nervously ran her fingers over the length of the ribbed steering wheel. You could hear her heart, and it was thundering over the inner workings of the truck, struggling against the cold weather. You counted the beats. “Tell me about her.”
“Hmm?”
“Your friend, America? It seems like she cares a lot about you. And friends since you were six? That’s a long time. A lot of memories.”
You couldn’t help the nervous smile that spread across your face. Going away to college had just been the latest chapter in a long book that you held near and dear. There was a sadness in the cab of the truck, a realization that you’d have to part, and brutally at that.
“There was this kid, Bobby Daringer, he was an absolute dick. He’d pick on anyone he could make eye-contact with and I’m pretty sure he’s a career criminal now. Anyway, one of my earliest memories was him shoving me on the playground. The taste of mulch. But, I also remember America grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and throwing him a good three feet.”
Kate was smiling, a genuine look that made your stomach twirl. The feeling lingered as a comfortable quiet filled the car. Soon, it morphed into damp palms and a pounding heart. Kate wasn’t Bobby Daringer, but she would have the same painted target, the same quiet seething that America wielded like a sword.
Kate had silenced herself, listening to the tires against the asphalt of highway. It had started to drizzle by the time she rolled into the parking lot of the off-campus apartments. You took a heavy, nervous breath. A hand was in yours, for only a moment, but the warmth was overwhelming, a blanket over your anxieties.
At least, it did, until you clocked both America’s and MJ’s car in the lot. Even more so, you could hear their muted conversations silence the second your key turned in the lock. Your hand was flat against the door, and Kate’s was on the small of your back, steadying you.
This stranger had such a pull on your heart, and part of you resented her for it. She was pulling you from your life, you were going to walk in there and pack a bag and vanish in thin air. There was still a dull ache where her teeth had broken skin, still a dull anger that you were hoping dissipated as you learned, not only to embrace what you had become, but to embrace Kate too.
Something attracted her to you that night, and it was a pull that you admittedly felt. Even as she ran through the woods, pinned you to the forest floor. There was an alluring magnetism to the animal that bit you, and the girl that stood steady by you now. You hated her, you did. But it was ebbing away into something else.
“Stay behind me,” You mumbled, cracking the door “And don’t say a word.”
Kate mimed zipping her lips but smiled dorkily at you regardless. When you pushed your way into the apartment, the scent was overwhelming, but one of comfort and design. You picked up on the candle that MJ lit, vanilla and a hint of cinnamon. There was the dinner they had just finished, pot roast that made your mouth water.
When you pushed your way into the apartment, you were relieved to find it mostly empty, and you led Kate through the small furnishings and the unlit hallway. You pressed your back against the door for only a moment before grabbing the duffel bag that you took to church camp in middle school.
It still smelled like nature, just the smallest hint clung to the fabric. You started shoving anything you could into it, quick with your movements. Kate surveyed your walls, empty and still plain brick. You didn’t feel the need to decorate, as it had never felt like home, not really.
Kate picked up the book on your nightstand, a worn copy of ‘EMMA’. You’d usually read until your eyesight was blurry and the words turned to mush. But, you knew the story by heart. Once you had filled the bag with clothes, you slugged it over your shoulder and watched her expectantly.
“You don’t want to forget this,” she folded the book close to her chest. “It’s a classic.”
“Yeah, it is.”
It was all you could think to say when you opened your bedroom door and held it open for Kate to pass through. There was a key weighing down your pocket. Kate seemed to read your mind, she slid the bag from your shoulder and onto her own effortlessly. You fished the keyring from your pocket and pushed it off until it was a lone, solitary entity.
Carefully, you moved to set it down on the coffee table, running your fingers over the cool brass.
“Y/n?” MJ’s voice was quiet, “What are you doing?”
You shot up fast enough to make you dizzy, your eyes shooting towards the looming hallway. America stood with her arms across her chest, her face hard, her eyes a fire-filled shade of green. You could hear her teeth grinding, could feel her anger just as you could feel MJ’s apprehension.
She held a bowl of half-finished mac and cheese, her fork coated in gold. MJ chewed quietly, but set the food on the counter with a movement that was slow enough to keep the sound barrier in-tact.
You could handle America’s rage. It was an immoveable object that buffered your interactions in times like these. It was almost better. If she was angry, then it would give her a reason to hate you, to keep you at a distance. It was the concern in MJ’s voice that threw you for a loop.
Your words were broken “I… I’m going to stay at Kate’s for a little while.”
“Then why are you leaving your keys?” America asked. “Do you ever plan on coming back?”
“Eventually”
Kate winced at the word and let out a small breath. That was the wrong thing to say. There was a sharp scent in the room that you could only register as rage. America uncrossed her arms and took three even steps, closing the distance between you.
“Let me get this straight, you waltz in here a few days ago, absolutely soaked in mud and… and blood, then vanish from the party that we were looking forward to for weeks. And then you sneak out of here this morning only to come back with her? Es como si ya no te conociera!”
There was a pressure behind your eyes. You looked down at the carpet to avoid the tears from flowing over. You weren’t going to cry, not about this. Because this was too much. All of it was boiling to the surface. You swallowed the growing metallic taste in your mouth.
America’s voice lowered, shattered “You worked so hard to be here. I can’t watch and let you throw it away for some girl who I’m assuming is the cause of all of this erratic behavior.”
“She’s not,” You glanced at her, “You’re not.”
“What is it, then? Y/n, you have a full ride! And… and us. MJ and I are here for you. Whatever this is, we can work through it, but we can’t do it if you’re not here.”
A tear escaped, and you used the back of your hand to flush it away. The deep sourness of the anger had turned into something like dying flowers, something of profane sadness. You held the key between you both, not saying a word, because this seemed to be enough of a gesture to say everything that was on the tip of your tongue.