by C. J. Ayers
Her fingers were frozen stiff by the time they finally found the pesky little thing, hidden under a round rock that both of them almost missed under the snow. Even Shane was starting to show signs of being cold. She stood close to him, soaking up what warmth she could as he opened the door and tried the lights. Too much to hope the power would be back, not with the snow still coming down as hard as it was. Alex's hair was wet with it and it had soaked through the bottoms of her jeans and into her socks. It wasn't all that much warmer inside, but at least it was sheltered from the elements. Alex stood in the foyer stomping snow off her shoes while Shane presumably went to get clothes. She shut the door to keep out the worst of the cold and explored through the simple but tastefully furnished rooms around her. It was strange and quiet in the grey darkness the sunlight cast. Bored, she ventured towards the noise coming from deeper inside the house and passed the door to Shane's bedroom in time to catch a tantalizing glimpse of his bare back before he pulled a sweater on.
He turned around and caught her, “Better?”
Alex nodded quickly.
“Well now, what all do you need from the store?”
Alex shrugged. “A light. Batteries. Food. Wasn't exactly prepared for a blizzard.”
“You know,” Shane started, and rubbed the back of his neck almost nervously, “I have all of that here. You can hang until the power comes back. At least then you won't be alone. And if you're still around tonight...” He let the implication linger. If Alex stayed he could prove what he had told her before.
“What are we gonna do if I stay?” Alex asked.
“Enjoy each other's company?” Shane asked with a grin. “I'd like to get to know you, honestly. You know a very personal piece of information about me. I think I'm owed something in return, don't you?”
Shane had a gas stove and a kerosene space heater and nothing could have made Alex happier at that moment than those two things. Well... she glanced over at Shane who was filling the pot he had used to cook with water. Almost nothing. They actually had quite a lot in common from what Alex had gathered over their conversation. It had been brief, but not even close to how awkward Alex assumed it would be. Shane was..., well he was her dream guy, really. Attractive, thoughtful, kind, considerate. They both had the same taste in movies, too, something Alex hadn't shared with her most recent ex. When Shane sat down next to her with a blanket Alex didn't think twice about curling up into him. Hey, it’s a matter of survival. She told herself.
“Are you always this warm?” she asked. She hardly needed the space heater with him next to her.
“One of the perks of my condition,” Shane said. “Useful in the winter, not so much in the summer.”
“Definitely useful now. I hope you don't mind.” Shane responded by slipping an arm around Alex's shoulders and cuddling her close. She was sitting next to him on the sofa sharing a thick woollen blanket that was draped around their shoulders. Alex pillowed her head against his broad chest. Beneath her ear his heart beat strong, if a bit quickly. Could he be nervous? Alex was. It had been a long time since she'd been close to a guy like this. What would happen if she kissed him? There was a better way to get warm than to huddle under a blanket.
“Does anyone else know?” Alex heard herself ask. Shane's body tensed for a split second. Alex regretting the words until he sighed softly and shrugged, his chin brushing the top of her head.
“No, just you. It was sort of a learn as I go experience. A lot of trial and error and some moments I'm not at all proud of. I'm okay now, though. I can control my urges and most of the time I just stay in the house.”
“Bad day for your roaming, then,” Alex said.
“I don't know about that,” Shane smiled. “I met you, didn't I?” Alex's cheeks and ears warmed. She pressed closer to Shane's heat. For a time there was a comfortable silence. Alex closed her eyes and was half asleep when Shane suddenly said, “The snow's stopped. Hopefully they'll have the power back soon. They've been working all day, or at least they were supposed to be.”
“So eager to get rid of me?”
“Not at all. I'd keep you here all night if I could. I thought you'd want to get back to your own place. I did sort of give you a shock this morning, didn't I?”
“Just a bit,” Alex teased. “But... well this didn't turn out bad, did it? You're a pretty cool guy.” Shane chuckled and rubbed her shoulder. Alex couldn't suppress her yawn. Easily, too easily, Shane shifted her weight around so he could swing his legs up and stretch out across the couch, letting Alex rest on top of him. Alex tucked her head beneath his chin.
“You know,” Shane said softly, “I've never really felt this comfortable with someone before. I was regretting my decision to leave my house, but now I think it might have been one of the best things I've ever done.” He gently kissed the top of her head.
A balloon of warmth filled in Alex's chest. She believed in instant attraction between two people, but this was definitely something more than physical, regardless of how attractive Shane was. It wasn't a feeling she could really explain, but she was somehow attuned to him. In her gut she knew that if it had been anyone else she found naked in her bed after thinking it was a dog she had brought upstairs she wouldn't have hesitated about giving them a burst of pepper spray in the eyes and calling the police. Yet here she was, in a very intimate position with a man she'd only known for a day, feeling like she could do or say whatever she wanted and she hadn't even consumed any alcohol.
“Maybe when things start functioning again, we could go out for coffee?” Alex suggested, surprised by how thick her voice had gotten and how heavy her eyes felt.
“Maybe you should wait until after tonight to ask that question,” Shane replied. His fingers stroked along her spine, erasing the argument that was formulating in Alex's mind and sped her journey into a deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER 4
Alex slept for long enough that when she awoke it was dark outside. There was a light spilling into the room from behind where she lay, in the direction of the kitchen. Alex blinked and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She sat up to look over the back of the sofa and spotted Shane finishing up the dishes from earlier and watching something on the small, wall-mounted TV at the end of the cabinet row. From the monotonous mumbling it sounded like the news. Quiet as a mouse, Alex roused herself from her makeshift bed and padded over to him, slipping her arms around his waist without a thought and pressing her cheek between his shoulders with a little nuzzle. He must have heard her because his only reaction was to crane his torso around so he could press a kiss to the top of her head that was so tiny Alex barely felt it.
“Sleep well?” he asked, washing off the last dish and putting it in the rack next to the sink to dry.
“Yeah,” Alex replied. “When did the power come back on?”
“About twenty minutes ago. You were out for a while. Did I keep you up last night?” Shane asked, turning around to give her a teasing smile. His arms went easily around her waist.
“No,” Alex said, ignoring her blush. “I was just tired, I guess. You make a very good pillow.”
“Well, I'm glad to hear that.”
Alex tilted her head back, staring up into Shane's handsome face, her gaze holding his briefly before dropping to his grinning mouth. He clasped his hands together at the small of her back, keeping her pressed tightly against his body. Alex's heart went up into her throat then almost deafened her with its beating. She was so close she could see the ring of black around Shane's irises, and streaks of bronze where the bright kitchen lights shown down on his hair.
“I need to show you that proof you wanted,” Shane said before Alex could speak what was on her mind. “Are you sure about this?”
“Are you in control?” Alex shot back.
“Completely,” Shane said without hesitating. “Normally I go to the basement but for your sake I'll stay up here. It's not a pleasant thing to watch, so... just stay here, okay?” Alex nodded slowly. Shane slipped
away from their embrace, leaving Alex alone with a jittery stomach and racing heart. The minutes ticked by slowly, but it couldn't have been more than five before she heard a creak from down the hall where Shane had walked and the shaggy wolf-dog from the previous night trotted over to her, wagging his tail and rubbing affectionately against her legs.
“Shane?” Alex asked, silently cursing how her voice shook. The dog sat at her feet and nodded his head in an eerily human like manner before licking Alex's fingers and butting her hand. “So you were telling the truth. Holy shit.” Her last shred of doubt evaporated when she looked into the dog's eyes and saw they were the same crystal blue as the man that she had found in her bed. “Can you change back?” she asked. Dog-Shane licked her fingers and turned away. When he was out of sight Alex let out a shaky breath and leaned against the sink for support. She definitely wasn't hallucinating. But what did it matter if Shane turned into a dog, or a wolf, or whatever however often he did? It was the man in him that mattered and that was clearly the part of him that was in control. A man that Alex felt a deep connection to. She knew he was important to her. It was the same feeling she had when she and her best friend had first met, except her best friend hadn’t made her knees weak and given her butterflies in her stomach.
Shane came out a moment later, looking slightly uncomfortable and moving gingerly, wearing only his jeans. He stood a couple feet away from Alex and couldn't quite meet her eyes. Alex held out her hand and waited until he looked up and approached her before she moved at all, stepping back into his arms.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Alex asked. “Like, seeing someone and just... knowing. Knowing something. Maybe not right then that's it's love but, just having that feeling in your gut that you have to talk to them? You have to get to know them?”
“Do you?” Shane asked.
“I do now,” Alex replied, and leaned up on her toes. Shane met her halfway, cradling her face in his hands. Alex felt a spark across her lips, and the gentle brush of Shane's fingers on her cheeks. Even though he hadn't initiated the kiss, he waited until Alex pressed herself more firmly against his body before he relaxed and looped an arm around her waist, deepening the kiss with a simple brush of his tongue. He pulled away first, but not before Alex was breathless and very much wondering what would happen if they kept going.
“So,” Shane said, “still sure about that coffee?”
“More sure than I've ever been about anything in my life,” Alex replied and pulled him back into her embrace.
THE END
FULL MOON LOVER
STORY DESCRIPTION
Mary is a young, single, attractive woman which should mean she is active in the city's dating scene. And, she probably would be if it weren’t for that one little issue... social anxiety.
Besides, there’s really no one she’s even remotely interested in. Well, there is the steaming hot but odd guy with severe bed head and horribly mismatched socks who doesn’t drink coffee but shows up at the coffee shop to get the old woman who owns it to comb his hair and help him match his clothes.
Mary figures that even if she wasn't painfully shy, she still wouldn't have much of a chance with him since half the woman in the city drool over him.
She's seen how women in the coffee shop act when he's around,
One night, fate delivers "Mr. Hottie" right to Mary’s door, only he’s not exactly what she expected; he is, in fact, much more. So, so very much more!
This time, Mary is not about to let her painful shyness stop her from having the adventure of a lifetime as the two set out together to save the city from a monster running beneath the full moon.
CHAPTER 1
The first thing she noticed about him, besides his devilishly handsome features and ripped physique, were his socks. They didn’t match, not in the slightest way. It wasn’t just a matter of mixing a blue sock with a black sock. No. One was a brownish plaid while the other was white. So, safe to say, in the realm of what the hell is wrong with him?
OK. She could move beyond that, but then there was the issue of his hair. It was a bed head to the nth degree. It looked like he had maybe used his hand to comb it two days ago, but had since slept multiple times and driven in a convertible.
But there were many parts of him that made him easy on the eyes. Well, his eyes for instance. She had never seen any like them before. They were the kind of eyes you would see in a perfume ad or a pretentious music video. You know the ones she’s thinking about: the world behind the model is gray and slightly discolored, while the eyes are an unnatural shade of blue. Alien even. Electrically vibrating.
It was hard not to be entranced by his eyes, which was probably why he always wore shades— Perhaps he was aware of his power. She had only seen him with them off once, and that one time was enough for them to be burned into her brain. She wasn’t the only one to see them that night when they fell off. All the girls in the cafe turned and watched him like a robot in sync, or a field of muskrats entranced by a mystical shift in the cosmos.
Of course it wasn’t just his eyes, though. She had a mega crush on him before that. His cheekbones and jawline were enough to make even Clint Eastwood jealous. He was a perfectly sexy Polish boy in Baltimore, Maryland. Her mother would be so proud if she managed to take him home. But of course, she wouldn’t get with him because of her mother. No, he was a catch, and she wanted to catch him with all her might.
All that was in her way was her social anxiety and fear of failure. If she could just get over those two things, she would be in the clear…
But his hair and the way he dressed! Was he a fourteen-year-old boy caught in a thirty-year-old body? Could he not see himself in the mirror?
There was a woman who worked at the cafe she went to that seemed to take care of him. Every night the old barista saw him and waved him to the back. With a hairy mole on her chin, and the kind of slouch and shuffle that only accompanies an eighty-year-old woman, she managed to make him look… presentable. Hollywood handsome, even.
One night Mary peeped into the back as the old woman mothered him. With goggles for glasses, she peered at him at him closely as she delicately combed his hair, shaved his face, and even changed his bowtie. Yes, even his bowties sometimes didn’t match. He took out four from his pocket for her to choose from, and moaned, “Oh please just choose for me. I can’t bother to worry about this at the moment. There’s just so much nonsense going on that I have to deal with tonight.” She chuckled a guttural old woman laugh, shuffled close to him and untied his horrendous abomination, moving like an arthritic turtle.
To the old woman’s credit, he always came out looking damn good, albeit still a little out of place (but for that there probably wasn’t a cure). There was something else about him that pampering couldn’t fix. Besides the mismatched socks (which the old lady never bothered to fix), the alien eyes, and the chiseled facial features, there was something else, and Mary was never able to put a finger on it. It wasn’t for lack of trying— she often thought about it. More than she would ever admit to even herself.
Don’t tell anyone, but the one or two times she had seen him with his sunglasses off, she actually thought about trailing him. Openly. It was the oddest thing and she knew it, but she just wanted to follow him to wherever he went. She didn’t need to speak with him, she just felt an unnatural desire to be close to him. Now if he proposed his undying love for her and asked her to marry him would she say yes? Well yeah, but that was it. That wasn’t so weird, was it?
Then she saw his socks and thought of something better to do with her time.
Oh, but his body. He did have a hell of nice body. One night when it was cold— frigidly so— upper teens without wind-chill factored in— he came in wearing nothing but flip flops, slacks, and a tight white t-shirt and shouted for the little old lady. Most nights he just looked like a bum, but on this particular night he looked like a deranged bum— granted a very hot deranged bum with a rock hard, chiseled body that turned every w
oman’s head— but a deranged bum nonetheless.
“Aniela! Aniela! Quick! I’m in a hurry!” Aniela was Polish for angel.
“Pracuję, głupek! Bądź cierpliwy!” I’m working, stupid boy. Be patient.
Mary’s mother was Polish. She grew up speaking it in the house.
“Aniela!” he huffed and puffed. “This is important!”
“Znaleźć inną staruszkę do hepl ciebie.” Find another old woman to help you then.
“Jesteś jedyną kobietą dla mnie.” You are the only woman for me.
“Idiota, jestem 83 lat.” Idiot, I am 83 years old.
He shot his hand in the air as if she spoke nonsense.
She finished making a customer a teapot of Earl Grey tea, and waved him to the back when she was ready. He quickly beat her there and sat down in his chair and waited for her to shuffle over.
Mary remembered thinking, whatever you do, grandma, leave that chest the way it is. He’s fine. He won’t get pneumonia, I promise.
But Aniela didn’t leave it alone. In fact, it was the first thing she changed. She shuffled farther into the back and came back with a green knit sweater (one apparently she had knit herself) and pulled it over his head. It seemed she knew this night would come— him completely ill prepared for the weather and the social reactions and constructs of the world in which he lived when dealing with such pesky nuisances as… cold temperatures.
Mary tried to ask her once about him, but she responded, “On jest po prostu jakiś głupi chłopak wiem.” He is just some stupid boy I know.
She tried to let him go. But a part of her just couldn’t. He was just too… weird.
But something happened on a cold January night that changed things.
CHAPTER 2
