Werewolf Bitten, Twice Shy

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Werewolf Bitten, Twice Shy Page 6

by Riley Rivers


  He tried to keep himself from glancing over at Ezra, as time passed. He wasn’t sure how long he was supposed to spend on organizing—didn’t know, in fact, how long he’d already been working.

  As a rule, Cameron didn’t check the time when he was on the clock, unless he was doing something like studying or homework for several subjects at once and was allotting a certain amount of time to each one. Otherwise he worked until his alarm went off to let him know that he had to get ready for whatever was next on his to-do list. It helped keep him in the zone of you do the job until it gets done.

  Then again, that was probably it. Ezra hadn’t given Cameron any other instructions, and the shelves were a mess. Probably Ezra wanted them sorted out as soon as possible. So it made sense that Cameron’s job today was just work until four rolled around and he had to leave.

  After a while longer though, Cameron couldn’t deny that he did need to take a break. He was loath to interrupt Ezra, but…

  “Um, Ezra?”

  Ezra turned in his chair. “Yes?”

  “Sorry, um, where’s the bathroom, please?”

  “Oh! Of course—I should have shown you when you first got here. Down the hall past the kitchen, first door on your right.”

  “Thank you.”

  The bathroom was also nice, and decorated prettily. Mint green walls with white trim. Ezra had a lot of green in his life. Cameron wondered vaguely whether or not it has his favorite color.

  He felt out of place inside of it. At least he could feel like he belonged in a photography studio. He could definitely feel like he belonged working to organize shelves.

  He glared at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands. It’s a bathroom. Get a grip.

  The water made him remember how thirsty he was though. Cameron was pretty used to ignoring hunger, but he tried to pay attention to thirst. Keeping on top of thirst also helped quell the hunger, which was helpful.

  When he walked back down the hall though, it was to see Ezra seated at the island.

  “Hey there,” Ezra said when Cameron approached. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was so close to one. Sometimes I get like that, when I’m working on a project.”

  “It’s okay,” Cameron said, unsure as to what Ezra was apologizing for. “I know what that’s like.”

  Ezra grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners. It was a good look. “I’m sure you do. Now, I was thinking of ordering from Panera, but I’m open to suggestions”

  “I—what?”

  “For lunch,” Ezra said. “What are you in the mood for?”

  Oh. Cameron hadn’t expected to be ordering lunch. He’d brought something in with him in his backpack on the off-chance he’d be breaking to eat but… he tried not to fidget. He didn’t know how to tell Ezra he couldn’t really afford to order something, from Panera or otherwise.

  “It’s my treat,” Ezra said after a moment. He sounded gentle about it, which just made Cameron’s insides twist up.

  “I didn’t—I don’t—” Cameron stammered. He did not, in any way, expect Ezra to feed him, and he didn’t want Ezra to think that Cameron expected it. There was absolutely nothing good that could come from that. “It’s okay, I—”

  “Cameron,” Ezra said, interrupting Cameron’s floundering. “When I hired you, I expected to be treating you to lunch.”

  “What?” Cameron asked, barely believing his ears.

  “My intern, my treat.”

  Something told Cameron he still needed to argue. Part of him was screaming over the idea of turning down a meal, but the other part was emphatically waving its arms and yelling about how Cameron was under no circumstances to make Ezra think he’d be any sort of burden.

  That part won out easily. “You don’t—you really don’t have to.”

  “Cameron,” Ezra said in a tone that brooked no argument. Hearing his name said in that tone gave Cameron the shivers. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Okay,” Cameron awkwardly told the floor. “Thank you.”

  “Why don’t you take a look at their menu?” Ezra said. He pointed to a paper sign hung up on the wall. “That’s the wifi password. You can pull it up on your phone.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let me know when you’ve decided, and I’ll order through the app. Sound good?”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  There was a moment’s pause while Ezra just looked at him. A flush crept across Cameron’s cheeks and down his neck.

  “Pick something you like,” Ezra said softly, after another couple of loud, silent seconds.

  “Okay,” Cameron said again, at least proud that his voice didn’t shake. “I will. Thank you.”

  Chapter Five

  Cameron left Ezra’s studio at ten after four, head spinning. He left with the two cookies from Sugar Tree, the chips and bread that had come with his Panera meal, Ezra’s chips because apparently he always forgot to get a substitution and didn’t really care for potato chips, and a chest full of the praise Ezra had doled out upon seeing the progress Cameron had managed to make on Shelf One.

  He’d also left with the knowledge that next Friday was a shoot day. Cameron was going to get to go around with Ezra to three different locations, where Ezra was going to take spotlight photos for a magazine.

  It was all sorts of thrilling, and Cameron knew that even though adding Friday on as a “work day” was going to be exhausting, it would totally be worth it.

  He was parked back at Wayne State half an hour later, and then sorted through his stuff to figure out what to take to the library with him. With it being almost five, it was too dark out to really go after the shots he wanted to for his photography projects, but he had plenty of studying to do. He also threw his sketchbook into his bag, figuring he could try to knock out his homework for Life Drawing and thus get that class out of the way for the week.

  The library was pretty busy, but Cameron managed to claim a seat in the corner for himself. With how many people were spread out all over the place and coming and going, he decided to reach for his sketchbook first. It was the perfect opportunity to try to capture some people while they worked: his current homework assignment.

  Cameron set his alarm for forty-five minutes, then opened to a clean page, pencil at the ready. He wasn’t much of an artist, when it came right down to it. Photography was his thing. While he was learning to do touch-ups and other edits on a computer now that he had access to the school labs, digital art or anything related was totally beyond him. Probably in part due to the fact that he really didn’t have the means to learn, growing up—or now. Same with stuff like painting, or charcoals, or whatever. Anything that needed fancy materials or technology just wasn’t something he was ever able to practice.

  Sketching he was okay at, though. Even at his lowest, he had access to a pen or pencil and scraps of paper. Before he’d managed to save up enough for a smart phone with a decent camera, sketching was really the only art outlet he’d had. Even once he’d been able to get his hands on his DSLR and figured out how to edit pictures on his phone—a necessary feat of tech, what with not owning his own computer—drawing was still a nice little outlet to have.

  He did messy warm-up sketches for several minutes, not really concentrating on anything in particular. A bookshelf, one of the chairs, a computer cubicle. Then he moved to working on people. He sat and worked, flipping pages as needed, trying to get a variety of subjects in.

  It was only once his alarm buzzed that he stopped and properly looked over his work. He was pleased enough with what he found. Good enough for a grade, anyway, which was the important part.

  He went through his wrist stretching exercises before reaching for his Astronomy textbook and notebook, setting his alarm for two hours this time. He’d get as much done as he could, then close his eyes for an hour before he had to get ready to head to the warehouse.

  He was fine with this being the new order of his Fridays. He could make this work.

  ***

&
nbsp; Cameron let himself sleep until one on Saturday, giving himself a full six hours of shut-eye, and it was just after two by the time he finished cleaning up at the gym. With how hard he started shivering once he left the gym with wet hair, even with his knit cap pulled low, he decided his first order of business was to hit up a thrift store. He had lots of plans for outdoor photography this winter, plus he was still finishing up his star-gazing charts for Astronomy. He needed to be better prepared for the cold.

  A warmer coat would also be a welcome addition to his sleeping arrangements. Being in his car and out of the windchill made a big difference, and he wasn’t worried about getting frostbite or anything, but sometimes being cold made it harder to fall asleep or stay asleep. He could stand to add another layer.

  The Value World he stopped in at was kind of busy, but it made sense considering it was a Saturday afternoon. Not wanting to waste any more time or daylight, Cameron made a beeline for the coats and started rifling through them, pulling out the ones that looked the warmest. He discarded four different options because they weren’t big enough to wear over his usual amount layers, but the fifth coat he pulled looked promising.

  It was heavy, which was the first big plus. Heavy meant warm. The lining was totally intact, and there weren’t any big outer rips or tears on the coat either. It fit nicely too. A little bit big, but too big was better than too small. And the brand, according to his phone, was a quality one that specialized in sub-zero temperature clothing. Perfect.

  Cameron checked the tag and winced. $43.80. Kind of steep, but especially considering the brand of the coat and the quality of it, it was expected. He’d known going in that a good, proper coat was going to be expensive, but the reality of the situation always sucked.

  He checked the time too, upset to see it was already almost three in the afternoon. He was wasting perfectly good daylight and would waste even more dithering over this coat. He could keep picking through the options but something in him knew that this was probably the best thing to get. He needed cold weather gear that could withstand a frigid Michigan winter.

  Cameron sighed and got in line.

  While he waited, he did the math in his head. Four new tires at ninety dollars each, plus tax plus labor was going to be just around five hundred dollars. He’d been working extra shifts and saving up since October, but this coat was going to set him back almost an entire shift’s worth of work, after taxes. So that meant one more extra Sunday night.

  He sighed miserably. Sunday nights were really taking it out of him.

  It couldn’t be helped though. And it was just one more shift. What was one more, in the grand scheme of things?

  It was another lost night’s sleep. Another morning stumbling blearily into a class he had looked forward to all summer, but was barely able to properly enjoy because he was so exhausted all the time.

  Cameron bit his lip. It was fine. It’d be okay. He’d just need to get through this week and next week and then he’d be good. For now. Until the next thing came up.

  It seemed like something was always coming up.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket as the line shuffled forward. Cameron pulled it out and unlocked it, blinking bemusedly at the screen.

  It was a message from Ezra. Are you allergic to peanuts?

  Uncertain as to where this was going, Cameron shoved the winter coat under one arm to text back. No. How come?

  A few seconds later he got: Just booked a shoot with Smuckers for the Friday after next. I had my choice of days, so I figured why not make it a Friday? I’ll give you more details as I get them.

  Oh, wow. Okay! Cameron wrote. That’s awesome. Thank you!

  Have a good weekend. Ezra replied. I’ll be in touch.

  Thank you. Have a good weekend too.

  Heart pounding, Cameron shoved his phone back into his pocket and fumbled to grab his wallet. He paid at the counter and made his way back to his car, thoughts still spinning through his head. Right. The internship. The internship that was paid.

  No counting chickens that it would last. Ezra might change his mind tomorrow—come to his senses about not wanting to deal with an intern or at least, not wanting to deal with Cameron. But he still had worked six hours yesterday at the studio.

  Maybe… maybe he’d hold off on asking for an additional Sunday shift. At least until next Friday. Just to see where he stood.

  ***

  Instead of going straight to sleep after he got off work at six am on Sunday, Cameron forced himself to drive to the walking trail park he’d scouted out a couple weeks ago. He refused to waste another morning of daylight. He’d only be out for an hour or two. Then he could climb back into his car and sleep till whenever. Once he woke up, he’d head back to campus so he could edit his pictures, and hopefully fit in another quick nap before driving to the warehouse that night.

  Yeah, he was tired, but he was always tired. And he had a project to finish.

  He parked his car, grabbed the plastic bag he had been using to hold the props he’d previously collected, and stepped out into the early morning dawn, clutching his camera. It was just after sunrise, and the light was making everything glow. It was perfect.

  He started walking further up the trail, his breath making little white clouds with every step. The specific tree he wanted was about a five minute walk in, but since he didn’t have concrete directions or anything, he just kept his eyes sharp. The brisk, early-morning air at least helped keep him a little more alert—or so he told himself as he plodded along.

  Cameron hadn’t bothered to look up what kind of tree his chosen tree was. All that he’d really cared about was the wide base with a dip at the bottom where the trunk curved inward on itself in a perfect little hollow. He had been lucky to find one so close to the trail; he’d had to go hunting further into various woods plenty of times before.

  His eyelids were very heavy when he finally got to the tree, but he knelt at the base of the trunk and did his best to focus on the task at hand. He pulled off his gloves, then out came the twigs and branches that he’d collected over previous excursions, painstakingly tied together with twist ties he’d stripped of their plastic coating, along with a handful of acorn caps and a little plastic baggie of long pine needles.

  He first took several pictures of the tree itself, bare, and then of all his materials haphazardly strewn upon the ground. It took him a good several minutes to arrange the “random” spill of them, adjusting things minutely, bit by bit, until all the details were nicely settled in positions that looked accidental while being just artful enough for what he wanted. He grinned at his camera screen after he’d taken his shots, and had a sudden, fleeting thought wondering whether or not Ezra might be impressed with his detail work.

  He shook his head, trying to clear it. He was way, way past overtired. But he still had work to do. And then he could sleep.

  Right. Time for composition.

  Cameron picked up his “main” prop—the one he’d worked the hardest on, finding twigs of the right color and thickness, carefully snapping them down to the right sizes before twist-tying them together. The result was a tiny little house, almost reminiscent of a log cabin, including a taller twig to act as a teeny chimney, as well as an opening for the doorway.

  He spent a while fussing about the placement in the hollow dip of the tree. Once he was satisfied, he turned his attention to the acorn caps and pine needles to create a little walkway leading up into the cabin.

  Cameron always pictured his photographs in his mind’s eye first. He was able to fully visualize what he wanted, and so he worked to recreate that picture in reality. It meant a lot of fussing with minute details, but it also meant that, in the end, if he did things right, he was usually proud of what he’d done.

  Now, with everything in place, he lay down flat on his stomach on the cold ground, numbing fingers at the ready to press down the shutter as he looked through the viewfinder of his camera.

  He’d just snapped his third picture whe
n he heard a howl.

  Cameron had never really spent a lot of time around dogs growing up. He liked dogs in theory, but he hadn’t had one as a kid, and none of the families he’d gotten shuffled around to had had pets either, with the exception of Miss Annabell, who had been a cat owned by Cameron’s last foster family.

  Sometimes Miss Annabell would find her way into his room and rub her face against his legs and try to curl up on his chest. On more than one night, he had buried his face in her fur while his shoulders shook. Miss Annabell had been the only bright spot in that house.

  The group home certainly hadn’t had a lot of access to animals. On bad days, desperately missing some sort of small, good touch, Cameron thought of Miss Annabell. But then he had to carefully blank out his thoughts to not spend time remembering the rest of what went on in her house—so he tried not to think of her much, these days.

  He was pretty sure he was a cat person though. Dogs seemed to be so much more work and responsibility. He winced as the howl continued on. Not to mention dogs were loud.

  At least it wasn’t barking. Barking made him nervous. Howling he could deal with. He turned his attention back to his camera.

  He did sigh in relief when the howling stopped, but it only seemed to have been a brief respite, because it started up again a minute later. Just one lone, loud dog, howling its head off. And giving Cameron the shivers.

  Especially since it sounded like the howling was getting closer.

  The sound cut off again. Shaky with nerves and sleep deprivation, Cameron hurriedly rolled onto his knees to take more pictures. He needed to finish the photography part today, and that meant not getting distracted by some dumb dog.

  The last set of pictures he wanted to get would be the hardest, and was made even harder by the fact that his fingers were starting to go numb. Still, he was able to use his mini tripod to position his camera exactly where he wanted it, and then performed some minor contortion to stay out of the frame while using the remote control he’d set up for his camera to take the shots he knew would be his best.

 

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