Chapter 11

11

KOVI

Tanner: I aced my quiz!

Tanner: It’s all thanks to you.

Me: I’m happy for you.

Tanner: Do you want to hang out again?

Tanner: It can be like a friend thing.

Tanner: How about another study sesh?

Tanner: I could always use the help on the next forestry quiz.

I’m sitting in the library staring at my phone. My thumb scrolls through the messages as I hold back the urge to reply. It isn’t exactly mature of me to avoid my friend-slash-crush. It’s been several days since I went to his house. Did I enjoy meeting his only family member and having her welcome me with open arms? Of course. Did my dick perk up at the sight of his sleepy ass stripping down to his boxers? Obviously.

But then I went and ruined it by involuntarily shifting. We were so, so close to kissing and making my wildest dreams come true. But seeing his scar made me lose my nerve. I did that to him. And I still shift by accident whenever we get close. How could we possibly pursue anything?

I groan and slam my head into my textbook on the table.

“Kovi?”

I glance up at the voice. I completely forgot I was in the library in a desperate attempt to avoid everyone I know. Is it dangerously close to Mummy Mocha where my crush works? Yes, but no one comes to this corner of the third floor except the student workers. And here’s one now.

“Niko, hey.”

“Is studying that torturous?” Niko pushes his book cart as he approaches me. He gives me an odd look that reads as a mixture of skepticism and concern. He’s dressed in all black as always, and I try to ignore the movement of snakes underneath his dark beanie cap. My curiosity for what his snake hair looks like is outclassed by my desire to not turn to stone. Despite our differences, he’s a chill gorgon of a dude. “I’m pretty sure you always ace your environmental classes.”

I smirk. “I do. Perks of being a tree.”

“That sounds like a young adult novel.” We share a laugh and he strolls along. “Something else in life gnawing at your branches?”

I snort and follow him. “You could say that.”

He casually places a book back. “You wanna talk about it?”

I sigh. “Boy troubles.”

“Boys are always trouble,” he deadpans, and I grin.

“Some humans are just hard to stay away from.”

He sniggers and places another book on a shelf. “I hear that.”

I shake my head and follow along. “Just another complication of growing up monster in a human world.”

Niko smiles as he continues putting away books. “Yeah. I’ve said it a hundred times, but I don’t think humans should have been allowed in. The world is a scary place outside these walls for monsters like us.”

I bite my lip; Niko’s made it no secret that he never wanted to go to university with humans. “That’s the thing, most humans are cool.”

“And this guy is breaking your heart?”

“Actually the opposite.”

“How so?” He hands me a book and points up to a high shelf. “Do you mind?”

I nod and take it. Then, I focus on shifting just my arm into a long branch. “Right here?”

“One more…to the left…perfect!” Niko gives me a thumbs up and I insert the hard cover into a vacant book space. “Thanks, Kovi.”

“No problem.” With the books all done, we end up back at my table and sit down. “I can’t…control my shifting.”

His eyebrows furrow and the snakes under his cap continue to squirm. “What? You literally just turned your arm into a branch and vines.”

“I can’t control myself when I’m with him ,” I whisper. I know we’re alone in this part of the library, but the confession still renders my tongue dry.

Niko frowns and toys with one of my books. “Sorry, man.”

I sigh. “I spent all these years practicing shifting, only for it to go to waste when a cute guy shows up.”

“Human boys are nothing but trouble.” He shakes his head and mutters, “No matter how handsome they are.” Huh . Before I can ask him to explain, he straightens his shoulders. “I’m sure your shifting will get back under control. Just do some isolated shifting exercises, that’s what the OME always teaches kids, right?”

“You’re right, maybe I will.” Niko is a cool guy. I ought to ask him about the human he clearly likes, but right now he obviously wants to drop the subject. “Thanks. I’ll let you know any developments on the boy front.”

“I’m sure I’ll witness any at this year’s Halloween Ball.” We share a chuckle. “And hey, at least you get to shift. Some of us are…well…” He looks up and readjusts his hat, snakes wiggling about underneath the fabric.

I completely forgot Niko has no human form. I frown; I’m complaining while my friend has never been able to walk among humans without the snakes on his head giving him away. “Sorry, dude, I—”

“It’s cool.” He waves his hand in front of him. “Involuntary shifting sounds rough, too, so I hope you get a handle on that. I need to get back to work. And hey, go easy on the books? They don’t deserve your splinters.”

We both snicker and he saunters off, pushing the cart.

Later that evening, I sit atop a scaffolding branch on one of the largest oaks on the quad. Most people notice the fountain or the statues if they ever look up on the way to classes. I’ve spent plenty of evenings up here, unnoticed in solitude, and tonight, I’m on a mission; I need to practice my shifting. It’s supposed to be a natural part of life, so easy for an adult monster to do, and yet, pretty, red-headed humans have me completely off-kilter.

So it’s time to meditate. I close my eyes and focus on my inner being, just as my mentors at the OME taught me for years. I focus to shift only my arms, then open my eyes. My fingers turn to vines and flexible branches, with the wood extending to underneath my green polo shirt. First my right, then my left, then I quickly shift back into my flesh. I meditate on my face, then fish out my phone; even in the dark of the night, I can see my big dryad face in the reflection. I smile at the tiny wooden canopy that comprises the top of my head, like a poofy green afro.

In short, I look great. Shifting is so easy. I had nothing to worry about. I shift completely and extend my leg roots down—it’s easier to leap from several feet when you, yourself, are ten feet tall. Barely anyone is around, and even if they were, no one ever pays me any mind when I walk the quad in my wooden dryad form.

I stretch my arm branches and affectionately tap the oak I was sitting on. It doesn’t need any nutrients for growth, so I simply dust off any dead leaves. I smile, always grateful for any plant that thrives on campus. The trees mean a lot to Dean Yaga, and ensuring their livelihood is an integral part of my dryad side.

My grooming is cut short when I hear two animated voices from the library. It’s Tanner! The guy I’m still avoiding and the one person I want to kiss so badly is walking this way. He’s laughing with that dark-skinned girl from the bonfire, and fortunately, neither of them spot me in the dark. But they’re headed this way!

I don’t want him to see me in this form—I’m the creature of his nightmares, after all—so I try to shift down. But my pulse pounds all over my tree bark as I nervously fail at bringing myself down.

Become human…become human… ugh, this is worse than trying to will down a persistent erection. They’re getting closer, and I panic. So, I do what only I can do: I hide in the one place they can never find by communing with the campus tree and phasing into the trunk. The dryad magic—how it works, I don’t know—enables me to occupy the small space. I’m cocooned in my own little world here, and no one can spot me.

It would be so easy to stay here all night, wrapped in comforting tree bark, avoiding my problems like a coward. But I have stuff to do back in my dorm. So, after waiting five minutes, I phase out and stretch my branches. No one’s around the quad. Shrouded in the darkness of the night, I’m alone. Lonely is all I ever will be at this rate. Until I get a grip on my shifting, I won’t be able to date the one person I want, the same gorgeous man that I suspect has feelings for me, too. But I won’t risk hurting him again, I can’t.

So, I sigh and walk to my dorm, gradually shifting into human form with each step. This disappointment is a new low, but there is no solution for the predicament I’m in. I’m a lonely dryad, and for now, that’s all I can be.