by Troy Hunter
Somehow though, I doubt it will be. Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Dale leave here thinking he’s won and that he just pulled the wool over my eyes. Not gonna happen. I close the webpage and stalk out of the library, shooting a glare toward the elderly woman behind the desk.
I have to talk to Dale. I have to find out the truth. I hope, desperately, that he wasn’t using the device on me. I hope it’s just a strange coincidence and that Dale really opened up to me. I hope he was the man I opened up to. “Damn it,” I curse. I slam my open palm against the steering wheel. I showed him my shifting, I showed him everything. And he was playing me like a fiddle the whole time.
I even fucking considered that we might be mates. What a joke. I tear out of the parking lot and speed toward Dale’s house. I don’t care that I’m driving like a maniac through town or going twenty over the limit on the highway to his house. I need to set the record straight.
And he’d better not be using that computer when I get there.
DALE
T wo empty coffee cups are scattered on my desk and I’m drinking a third. The ARF device is in front of me, pried open with my very tiny screwdriver. I take a long sip of the coffee. I can already feel the headache blossoming at the back of my skull from the caffeine. Great idea, Dale, I chide myself. Make yourself sick. That’ll help you figure out this mess.
The device is charging but I think I need to make a few changes. My experience with Cliff has shown me that users of this tech can’t rely on it so heavily or else everything will be too artificial. I need to find a way to let the personality of the user shine through. So I’ve got the hard drive open in front of me and the code pulled up on my laptop.
It’ll be a long day, but I’m glad I have something to occupy myself. The last thing I want is to be distracted with thoughts of Cliff. My coffee is empty again. I toss it aside, wishing I’d bought a fourth. I turn to my code, erasing part of a line so I can replace it with something with a little more finesse.
Suddenly, there’s a soft knock at the door and Michael pokes his head in. “Hey, Dale,” he says.
I don’t turn away from my laptop. “You don’t have to knock, you know. This is technically your room too,” I say as I type in new code.
He laughs. “Right. Hey, Cliff is downstairs. He wants to see you,” he says the last part with a little sing-song in his voice, a hint that he knows why I didn’t come home last night.
I resist the urge to groan. I don’t know if I can face Cliff right now. The coffee has me hyped up, my head pounding, and I’m feeling guilty enough as it is. But maybe he’s come with good news on the lottery, or he wants to invite me to dinner. So I stand, popping my neck, and head down stairs.
From the landing at the top of the stairs, I can see him in the foyer, and I can almost feel the rage emanating from him. I have to pinch myself to stop from bolting back to my room. Hesitantly, I trot down the stairs toward him. He turns to me, nostrils flaring.
Wordlessly, and with a tight jerk of his head, he goes out to the porch. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for what’s inevitably about to be our first fight. Outside, I close the door behind me, so my parents won’t hear whatever is about to happen. He’s standing on the corner of the porch, leaning against the railing.
Somehow, he’s even sexier when he’s angry. I shake my head, trying to clear it. Now is not the right time, I need to focus. He eyes me coldly. I feel winded under his narrowed gaze. He says nothing, arms crossed tightly over his chest. I shift my weight from foot to foot awkwardly.
“What’s going on, Cliff?” I ask, desperately hoping it has nothing to do with me.
“I know about the ARF device,” Cliff says, his voice laced with anger.
Oh, I was fucking wrong.
I inhale sharply through my teeth. “Okay,” I say simply. I don’t know what else to say. Should I apologize? Should I feign ignorance? I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do. And how the hell does he know?
“How dare you test that machine out on me,” he hisses, finally turning to face me. “You think you can just come out here and toy with my emotions like that?”
“Cliff, it was never about that,” I say, my brows furrowing. “It wasn’t to toy with you—I had to be sure it worked.”
“Oh, it fucking worked, didn’t it? I slept with you!” he roars, stabbing a finger in the air toward me. “I showed you those pups. And for what? A lie? You lied to me!”
“Oh, God,” I sigh, dragging a hand through my mussed hair. I feel like shit.
“You’re a damn liar. A heartless man.”
I can feel I’m on the verge of tears but I tamp them down. “No, it wasn’t a lie.” I move to stop him from storming away. “None of it was a lie. Everything I said was true, how I really felt was not a lie. The device, it just tells me things like ‘target would benefit from comfort.’”
“Target?” His voice drops low. Dangerously low. “Real personal, Dale. I’m surprised you aren’t a robot.”
I take a deep breath as I try to calm down. “It’s a machine, Cliff. A machine that someday thousands, maybe millions of people will use. It has to say target.”
He rolls his eyes. “That’s not the point, Dale. You used me. And you used me in the worst way.”
“Everyone uses people!” I shout. “You used me for the damn hunting license, didn’t you? That’s what people do, even people in love. We use each other to fill ourselves up with whatever we’re missing, whether or not that’s love and affection or a damn invention!”
“You might be such a cynic, Dale, but I’m not. And anyone who’s ever truly been in love wouldn’t think like that. But you’ve never been in love with anyone or anything, not even yourself. And I…I don’t want anything to do with you or anyone like you.” He strides away from me and then stops, turning on me. “You don’t understand anything that isn’t computer code or an image on a computer screen, Dale. You think people and things, and nature, are just there to be used. You’re wrong.”
I clutch at my head and groan with frustration. “Just stop! You use people all the time. You used me. You used Kate. You even use those pups to substitute for any real human connection.”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he snarls. “And if you tell anyone about those pups or their location, I’ll kill you.”
He shoves past me, tearing down the drive. I whirl on him, chasing him down the steps. I can feel my own anger flaring at his attack. Upset I can understand, feeling manipulated I can understand. But why does he have to make it so personal? I feel like I’m in high school again. And it’s the day after he kissed me on the field. And I’m no better than the gum on the bottom of his shoes.
“Fuck you, Cliff,” I yell, my voice cracking with emotion. “You haven’t changed at all! You’re the same stupid, cruel boy you were in high school.”
“Grow up, Dale. This is real life,” he says over his shoulder, a mean gleam in his eyes.
My heart cracks in my chest as he swings into his truck and roars away, leaving me behind in a spray of dirt and gravel. My legs are shaky, my knees weak, and I’m surprised I don’t fall to the ground right there. I want to scream. I want to chase after him and make him understand that I didn’t mean to hurt him. That my feelings were real.
But he’s gone. Out of my life for good now. Holding back the tears that are threatening to spill, I tread back inside and up to my room without looking at my parents or Michael, who are all waiting in the hall. My mom reaches out to brush a comforting hand over my shoulder. Even Michael tries to help, patting me awkwardly on the back.
I keep my eyes trained on the ground and slump off to my room. I lock the door. Michael will be fine without the room for a while. My eyes fall on the ARF device and my laptop. And I have the sudden urge to crush the device under my fist and throw my laptop against the wall.
With a sniffle, I slide to the ground, back against the door. And I let the first tears fall. Just like the nig
ht after we first kissed, after he rejected me. I cried in this very spot, quietly so as not to disturb my parents. Only this time the heartbreak is rawer than anything I’ve ever felt before.
CLIFF
M y knuckles are white, and my jaw is aching from being clenched for so long. The anger I felt toward Dale was amplified ten-fold when I smelled him up on the landing. That same computer smell and freshwater scent. He hadn’t showered yet, but the smell of plastic and metal was stronger on him than before. I knew he was up there with that device.
So I tore into him, not caring that his parents inside probably heard every damn word. Dale deserved it. He deserved their judgement as much as he deserved my rage. Confronting him about the ARF device hadn’t gone as planned. I imagined that he would apologize, that he’d come clean and accept responsibility. But he didn’t. He made excuses, he had the nerve to call me a target.
When I imagine him with me, that little device in his head, chirping out advice, I want to puke. How could I not have known? Anger surges through me anew and I squeeze the steering wheel tighter. Painfully tight.
I swerve wildly onto the highway, accelerating quickly. If there are any policemen nearby, they’ll have me on their radar immediately. But I don’t care. All I care about is the fact that Dale betrayed me. He betrayed me with no remorse. I scoff. There was probably a reason I didn’t remember Dale from high school A reason I never associated with him.
I just want to go home now. To get to my cabin and rage where I know I won’t hurt anyone. The wolf within me is howling his rage, pacing back and forth furiously. I’m lucky I didn’t shift right there on Dale’s porch while we were fighting. If I had, I would’ve revealed myself to his family, but I might have hurt him as well. The prospect sends a sharp pain through my chest. But then the anger floods through me and overwhelms me once more.
He had the nerve to turn it back on me and accuse me of ulterior motives for being with him. The computer programmer thing was just a perk, a stroke of good luck from the universe sending good karma my way. I thought he helped me because he wanted to. It was probably that machine that told him I would fall faster for him if he helped.
Using people for love. What a joke. An offense. And if he ever does say anything about those pups, I wasn’t bluffing. I will murder him. That man isn’t my mate, he’s a stranger. A cruel stranger.
My heart clenches tightly in my chest as I consider the whole mates thing. I had truly thought he was mine. With no shifter friends or relatives to guide me through this life, I could only guess at many of the things related to being a shifter. Well, guess and use the internet. I’m not sure what makes someone a mate, but I assumed it was love. That undeniable love and attraction that Dale and I shared. Until he betrayed me.
The silence is overpowering, and it’s dragging me back into the fight, inviting me to relive it. I stab the radio button, turning it on and letting more Johnny Cash fill the cab. Earlier, driving back from the woods, Cause I Love You was playing and it inspired me to ask Dale for a fresh start. Now, I feel myself harboring a personal grudge against one of the greatest singers to ever grace the radio.
The DJ is talking, chattering away about the weather and tourist season coming to a close soon. But then he mentions an announcement from the Department of Fish and Game regarding the lottery. This is it, I think, turning it up.
“The Department of Fish and Game announced this morning that due to a sudden influx of last-minute applications for hunting licenses, they will be extending the deadline for the lottery another day. And now, Shania Twain with…”
“Fuck!” I shout, slamming my fist on the dashboard.
Dale had explained to me that the virus for the lottery was in the system, we just had to wait for them to start the process. But if they postpone it, it could jeopardize my name being pulled because the equation was set to run through on the date of the lottery and no later. I grind my teeth, conflicting emotions washing through me.
Rage toward Dale and the lottery, fear for my wolf pups and their mother, and a bone-deep sadness. Life was not going my way. The universe had sent me hell instead of good karma. I can only hope and pray the virus will work even though the Department of Fish and Game screwed me over. Only time will tell.
I consider returning to Dale and asking him to help me again, even pressuring him. I could threaten him if I needed to. But the thought of facing him again, much less asking him for help, makes my stomach turn. Maybe it’s my pride, but I can’t put myself in a position like that. Whatever I do next, I’ll have to do myself. For the sake of my pride and my pack.
DALE
I t’s been a day since Cliff came to my house and confronted me about the ARF device. I haven’t touched it since. It’s still sitting open on my desk and collecting dust. Michael stayed the night in my parent’s room—he and my parents have been giving me a lot of space since Cliff and I fought. It’s been good to have a little space, but also embarrassing. I know they heard everything. I worry that they think Cliff is right, that I’m nothing but a liar.
I roll onto my back in my bed, staring up at the boards above me. I feel like I haven’t left this spot in years even though it’s only been a day. An entire day of moping in my twin-size bed like I did as a teenager. But so what. I inspect my nails. It’s not like I have anything better to do.
Suddenly, the door to my room slams open, making me jump in surprise. My mom is in the doorway, a stern expression on her face, hands on her hips. Here comes a lecture. I groan and roll my head away from her, hoping she’ll leave. But I hear her footsteps approach, then the bed sinks slightly as she sits.
“Dale,” she says. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”
Yes. “No,” I say, frowning. “I’m just taking a break. What’s wrong with that?”
“A break that comes right after you and Cliff broke up? What a coincidence.”
“Mom.” I roll my eyes. “We were never officially dating.”
“That’s not what it looked like to me,” she tuts. “You have got to get out of this bed. For goodness sake, you’ve been eating in here, Dale. Have you even gotten up to use the restroom?”
I grimace at her, offended. “Of course I have. I’m not disgusting.”
“Then surely you can get up to do more than that. It stinks in here.”
“Mom,” I groan. “Please, leave me alone.”
“Absolutely not. You have chores to do for me,” she says sternly.
“Mom, I’m a grown man.”
“You aren’t acting like it,” she chides.
With a groan of frustration, I roll over and up into a sitting position. “What do you want me to do?” I ask, dreading her answer.
“Go to Kate’s coffee shop and pick us up one of her bags of ground cocoa beans and a black coffee for your father,” she says. I catch her smiling to herself, pleased to have gotten me up.
I bend down and give her a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Mom,” I say.
I’ve been acting like a child. I felt like a child. Useless. Hurt. Scared to face Cliff again. But my mom is right, I can’t just stay in here forever. And it does stink. I take a quick shower, trying not to think of Cliff, then dress hurriedly.
In less than a half hour, I’m back in town, heading to Kate’s coffee shop. She’ll probably be working today but I almost hope she isn’t. I know the instant she sees me, she’ll know something’s up, and I don’t want to talk about it.
Her coffee shop is empty, a little less stylish than the Cocoa Peak, but she brews a good cup. Kate is behind the counter, going through the till. She doesn’t look up when I enter, calling out a greeting.
“Hey Kate,” I say, trying to hide the sorrow in my voice.
She looks up, and her eyes brighten as she registers it’s me. “Dale. How’s it going?”
I shrug one shoulder. “Good.”
“What can I get you?” she asks, pursing her lips at my clipped response.
“I’ll take a black cof
fee and a bag of your ground cocoa beans. I guess my mom is a big fan. And I’ll have an Irish coffee, a big one.”
She cocks a brow at me as she busies herself behind the counter. “Rough day already?”
“More like rough two days,” I sigh, accepting the drinks from her.
She quickly grabs herself a mug and sweeps around the counter. “Come sit with me and tell your best friend all about it.”
I grimace but follow her to a nearby table. The Irish coffee is hot, and damn, it’s good. “Nothing much going on,” I say. “I think I’m going to head back to Silicon Valley soon.”
“Early?” she asks. “Why?”
“I keep thinking about my work. I think that’s a sign I should go back and finish it up before the stress catches up to me,” I lie.
“It looks like it’s already caught you. You look like shit,” she says, but a warm smile plays on her lips.
I laugh. “Thanks.”
“And this has nothing to do with Cliff?” she asks, speaking slowly as if she’s hesitant to say the words.
I purse my lips. “Well, we’re definitely not soulmates. And I have him out of my system now.”
“Well, at least you have some closure now, right?” she says, a sad tone to her voice. “Some people never get that.”
I wonder if I feel like I really have closure and realize I don’t. I feel like things between Cliff and I are unfinished, too much left unsaid. I never got a chance to tell him that it might have started as revenge and a simple experiment, but for me it was so much more than that. “That sucks,” I say, and I mean it.
She shrugs her shoulders. “I never told you this, but when I was in high school there was this guy…he was smart, funny, pretty cute to boot. And he was my friend.” Her eyes flick up toward mine before dropping again. “I liked him. A lot. But he never felt the same way. And I never got to confess my feelings.”
