Chapter 12

Lying next to Brandon in his bed, with his scent all around me, is an exercise in self-control.

He draws me to him not just because he radiates heat, but also through his sunny personality. I am not tired, but I have no desire to get up—not when he is so close to me.

I sink into recharge mode and drift for a while. I would like to relax fully and shift into my true form, but that would be too risky. He might wake and see me.

So I simply enjoy having him behind me. His breathing is heavy, so I know he is asleep, but he does not snore. I think I would find it cute if he did, anyway.

In the middle of the night, though, he starts rubbing a very large erection against my ass, and it is all I can do not to press back into him. I want it. I want to kiss him and touch him and take him inside my body.

But he is asleep, unaware of what he is doing, and it may mean nothing.

I wish it meant everything. Because no matter how chipper and sweet Brandon is in the daylight, he is also one of the sexiest beings I have ever seen. He is as irresistible—and seemingly inevitable—as the changing of the seasons. I know he is going to do me in. I just know it.

And yet I cannot seem to move away. I could get up and go over to my bed, my side of the room. I could leave the dorm and go for a walk. I could go swim in a river.

But I want to stay here, in Brandon's arms.

All night long.

When he wakes Monday morning, though, I have made sure to already be up. I do not want to make this awkward. I have changed into my Speedo and gotten dressed.

Brandon has indentations from his pillow on the side of his face, and I want to kiss them.

I clear my throat. "Water polo practice starts soon."

"Shit," Bran says. "Thanks." He hurriedly gets out of bed and strips off his sleepwear. I do my best to avert my eyes, but he is so beautiful.

I wonder about the stretch marks on his torso. But I do not say anything. They are none of my business, and besides, I think they are gorgeous.

Together, we head for the pool.

I have my guitar in my lap late one morning when Brandon opens the dorm room door. I look up, startled.

"Hello," I say. "I am surprised to see you now. I thought you had class."

"Canceled. Professor was sick." Brandon pulls out his desk chair and turns it around, as usual, straddling it and hanging his arms over the back. "What are you playing?"

"I am just practicing."

"Cool. Can I listen?"

After thinking about it for a moment, I nod. I reach over and plug the guitar into the amp. I usually do not practice out loud, but this way I'm not only going over fingering.

Taking a deep breath, I start to play a pop song he recognizes, and he smiles. I make my way through the song, and at the end, he claps.

"So good. I can't believe how amazing you are. No, actually, I can." Bran's eyes sparkle. "Can you play me my birthday song?"

"Okay," I say. He goes to open his drawer to hand me the sheet music, but I stop him. "I do not need the music."

"Oh. Right."

Taking another deep breath, I begin to play Brandon's song, which I intended to reflect him. The happiness he radiates. I wrote it in a major key, which is not something I usually do. It is far cheerier than anything else I have ever written, the notes happy and never getting too low. On the contrary, it soars. At one point, the fingering gets very tricky, but that is the fun part for me. The challenge makes me happy. Almost as happy as being in the water.

I am fully focused on the music, concentrating on playing each note perfectly, but when I am done, I look at Brandon.

His eyes are unfocused, and his face is peaceful. Did I accidentally enchant him?

I wait for his judgment.

Bran blinks. "Wow," he whispers. "That was beautiful. I love it. I got lost in it, you know? Like, I was picturing being out in nature—hiking or something. Along a brook. With everything all sunshiny and warm."

I smile. "That was what I intended. It is what I think of when I think of you."

Then I worry I have said too much. That I am showing him too much of what I am like inside … but Bran does not seem to mind.

"It's the most special birthday present I've ever received," he says, reaching over and touching my hand. "Feels like you really see me, you know?"

"I see you," I agree.

We gaze at each other for a few moments, and then it begins to feel awkward. I do not know what else to say. It is easier for me to express myself through music than through language—especially English. The way Brandon expresses himself through emojis.

"Will you play it for me again? Another time, I mean, not right now," he adds hastily. "I'd just like to hear it again. In fact, I'd love it if you'd let me record it and put it on my phone. Or maybe you could teach it to me?"

"I will do that for you, yes. And you can record it."

He pats my thigh. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

His phone buzzes, and he smiles at it. The screen reads, "Baby girl." I stiffen. "You can … talk with whoever you need to."

Brandon stands and pushes his chair back. "Thanks. I gotta take this. See you later?"

I nod.

"Hey, baby," he says, answering the call and leaving the room. Before he closes the door, he gives me a little wave and a smile. The kind that makes my heart ache even more.

I begin composing another song, but this time it is in a minor key. That's more like it.

Except … the music is not getting out my feelings the way it usually does. Maybe I need to talk with someone.

I glance down at my phone. I have a class starting soon. But I know what to do.

After class, I give Kellie a call. "Hello. This is Steve."

"Steve! Hi! I was wondering how school was going for you."

"It's okay. An adjustment."

"Are you making friends?"

It is funny how this woman from a train—who is not all that much older than me, I do not think—is more of a mom to me than my own mother. "It is hard for me to make friends, but yes, I think I have met a few people who could become friends."

"I'm so glad! It can be hard." She pauses. "Say, if you want to chat in person, you could come over for dinner tonight."

"While I do not need to eat much, it would be nice to talk with you."

"That's fine. It's just an excuse to visit with you, anyway," Kellie says warmly. She gives me directions.

When I'm done for the day, I walk to her home, which is not far from campus, and she lets me into the small but welcoming house. She gives me a big hug, and Chris waves at me from behind her. "Hi! It's so good to see you, Steve!"

I shuffle my feet and try to smile. "Hi. Thank you for inviting me."

"Of course! I knew you were a good one when you saved Chris." A werewolf comes into the room, and Kellie puts an arm around her. "This is my wife, Elaine."

"Nice to meet you," I say, shaking Elaine's hand.

"Same," she says. "I hear you're at Creelin."

"Yes. I am a transfer student from Norway."

"Well, welcome to the US. I hope you'll enjoy your time here," Elaine says.

Kellie says, "Dinner will be ready soon. We thought you might like fish, but don't feel obligated to eat if you're not hungry."

"Fish sounds nice," I say.

"Then join us."

They give me a tour of their cheerful home. It is full of framed, childish art, which I suppose was made by Chris, as well as books, comfortable places to sit, and a piano. I have always longed for a living situation this welcoming. I could have it with Brandon, I think. If he were mine.

Kellie fusses over me, which I am not used to, but the fish she serves is delicious, and I end up eating more than I normally would. "Everything is very good," I say. "Thank you."

We stay at the dinner table after we've finished eating, and I watch the sweet way Kellie and Elaine interact with each other. They tell me about their jobs and how long they've been here. Elaine works in the IT department at Creelin.

"How are things going at school, now that you've officially begun?" Kellie asks.

"It is good," I say. "I am focusing on the electric guitar instead of the violin, which is what I was supposed to be playing. But the guitar is what I prefer. I am finally being permitted to do what I want. It was not that way in Norway."

Elaine nods. "Creelin is an excellent environment to develop people into being their true selves. I'm impressed that they're letting humans attend this year. It feels very modern, which is a good thing."

"Yes, it is good to have humans and monsters studying together."

"What about friends?" Kellie asks. "It sounded like you wanted to say more when we were talking on the phone earlier."

"Um," I say, looking from one of them to the other. Because I do want to talk about Brandon. I have no one else to talk to. I would trust Brandon's input, but since it's about him, that's not going to work. And I'm not discussing this with my family or any other nokk.

Kellie tilts her head, seeming to read my expression. "You don't have to."

"No, there is something I would like to talk about, but it is rather personal. Do you mind if I ask you a question?" I say.

"Not at all."

"There is a human I have a crush on at school. And I was wondering how it was to be in a human-monster relationship."

Elaine looks at Kellie, love shining from her eyes. "We have a great relationship. She's the best person I've ever met. And the prettiest. I think the world of her. We've faced some challenges along the way, but I guess we've mostly figured it out. There are times when I have to shift, but she accommodates me—gives me time to howl at the moon and roam free in the forest. But that's the main difference between us."

"I'd do anything for you," Kellie says, smiling at her wife. "But, Steve, what's up with you and this guy?"

"I am drawn to him, and he says he is attracted to me. But he keeps getting phone calls from a woman, and I think he might be in a relationship with her. I am not sure."

"You could ask him."

"True. But even if he is not in a relationship, every single person at school wants him."

Elaine chuckles. "I'm sure that's not true. But, okay, so he's popular. That doesn't mean you don't have a chance … if he's right for you, that is."

"Maybe. But I have concerns. He activates something deep inside me—a nokk urge to drag him to the underground world and take his soul."

Elaine and Kellie stare at me. I am worried I've offended them, but then Elaine breathes, "I know I shouldn't think this, and I'm only saying it because your concern makes it clear you're able to resist that urge—otherwise you would've taken him already—but it's kind of hot."

I do a double take. "Hot?"

"Sexy. You really want this guy, don't you?"

"I do."

"Then sort out his dating life, and if he's free, ask him on a date."

"There's another problem, though. nokk have a bonding ritual. I've never done it, naturally, but it involves exchanging blood, kisses, and hearts. And by accident, his blood has already mingled with mine."

"That is a complication. You—and he—need to be sure you want this bonding to progress before you move forward."

"I know." I pause. "But I kind of do want it to progress. Just not without his consent."

"It sounds like you know what to do, then," Kellie says, and I nod.

I am determined to talk with Brandon, but when I return from dinner, he's not in the room, and I fall asleep before he gets back. We do not have practice the next day, and I do not wake up until later than usual. I have been sleeping more here than I ever have. Maybe my body needs it when I am farther from home.

Brandon is gone again, but he left me a note to meet him at Mummy Mocha. The note warms me inside, and I hurry to get dressed.

When I walk into the coffee shop, though, I see Brandon sitting at a table with the harpy girl. Her wings are spread so that she's touching his shoulder, and their heads are together, looking over some papers.

I want to rip her away from him. I do not have any right to keep Brandon from talking to other people—or dating them—but that does not mean I have to like it.

I think about the sensation of Brandon's warm body against mine in bed, or even while we watched the movie—comforting, soothing. Those were good feelings, ones I treasure and would like to repeat. But desiring him also opens me up to moments like this, the acid in my veins when I watch this girl touch him. I want that to stop, but it may be out of my control.

I turn and walk away. I should go to class anyway.

Brandon slips into our room later that afternoon, when I am sitting on my bed playing with my phone. "Hey! I thought you were going to meet me earlier for coffee!"

"It seemed as if you had a study session," I say, trying not to sound hurt or sarcastic. I am determined to talk forthrightly with him about my feelings. To ask him what he wants.

But it is difficult.

He tilts his head. "Did you come by?"

I do not answer him.

Bran steps a little closer to me. "You're always welcome to interrupt me."

"I did not want to do that," I mumble.

"I'm inviting you to. It would've gotten me out of studying some monster history. I need to learn more about the Halloween Wave, but I can only study so much at once, and now I have the rest of the afternoon off."

"Oh," I say. "I am done for the day, too."

"How's your day been?" Brandon asks.

"Class was tough but good," I say. "The professors are challenging us to compose our own work to perform, and I am enjoying it very much."

"I bet you're great at that. I'd love to hear more of what you write."

"You might get enchanted."

He grins at me. "I already am."

I blink. Is he … flirting with me? No, he couldn't be. Right?

"And you didn't even have to play any music to do it." Brandon's eyes alight on the bottle of vodka on the shelf. "Have you had any of that?" He points to it.

"Not yet, no."

"I'm not sure if it's any good. I had to go with what I could afford. And I don't generally drink vodka, so I couldn't really judge for myself."

"I am sure it is fine. And in any case, it was the gesture, the sentiment behind the gift that was important. Should we try it?"

He smiles impishly. "We don't have practice in the morning. I'm not that into hard liquor, but …" He shrugs. "If I can't make bad decisions in college, when can I?"

"Yes, okay," I say. "We can drink the vodka." I nod a few times.

While vodka does not affect the nokk in the same way it does humans, maybe it will make it easier for me to start a conversation with Brandon that we need to have.

"You're so damn cute," Brandon says. "Hang on, let me go buy some soda." Taking his wallet, he slips out of the room, I presume to go the vending machine. He returns with a couple of cans of Ghosta-cola and pops one open. "Do you want soda or just straight?"

"I will drink the vodka straight," I say.

Brandon pours vodka into two paper cups from the water cooler, then tops one of them with soda and hands the other to me. He taps my cup with his.

"Sk?l," I say.

"Cheers, dude. To college day drinking."

He sips, then downs a bigger gulp, making a face. I want to kiss him.

The vodka warms me up. I think vodka was made for nokk. Instead of being cool inside, I feel like fire is burning in my bloodstream. I smile at Brandon.

He blinks at me. "Whoa."

"What does whoa mean?"

"You're smiling."

"And that warrants an exclamation?" I ask.

"No, but you're usually all ‘Life is tough, and I'm very emo.'" Brandon says it in a way that is not mocking, but he is teasing me nonetheless.

"Hmm. I am sorry."

"Don't be. I like you, and I like your smile."

"I like you, too," I admit.

"I see you," Brandon says. "I know you're trying to blend in—I think that's why you keep to your human form—but to me you always stick out." He hastens to add, "Not in a bad way. Just … I always notice you."

"I always notice you, too."

He scoffs, then swallows another sip. "There's a million guys like me. Ashton, Bailey, Diego. They all look like me."

"No, they do not," I say, then think about it. The guys he mentioned all have messy brown hair, tan skin, swimmer builds, and cute faces. They might have different ancestry, but when you get them together, they do look similar.

Except Brandon … Bran is different. He is more beautiful, yes, but my awareness of him is more fundamental than that. Maybe it is because he gave me his blood. I could pinpoint him immediately from anywhere.

"Is the vodka as bad as you expected?" I ask.

Brandon scrunches up his nose and lips. It is even more adorable than his usual expressions. "Wellll, yeah, kinda." He studies me. "You like it, though. Don't you?"

I am feeling as if this is how I am supposed to be. "Yes. It makes me … more myself."

"Cool." Brandon pours us each another drink, and we settle in next to each other on the floor, our backs to my bed.

"I enjoy this," I admit.

"Drinking with me?"

"Hanging out with you. It makes me feel … normal."

"You are normal."

"Hardly. I am the only nokk in the United States, as far as I know."

"That doesn't mean you're not normal. And anyway, Witchipedia had a bunch of other words for nokk, so maybe the ones who are here just call themselves something else."

"Maybe." I sip my drink. It is amazing how much better I feel with a little vodka in me.

Brandon giggles. "I think the alcohol is working."

"How does it feel for you?"

"Like the world is going swirly. Tipsy-turvy."

"Topsy-turvy?"

"That's what I meant." He drinks some more. "Oh, man. Vodka. Okay."

I like being with Brandon. I like it when he is loose and relaxed. He mostly is that way. But it is even better when he is giggly.

"The whole world is topsy-turvy," Brandon repeats. "I'm not who I thought I was."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not straight, I don't think. The world is different now."

That confirms my hope, although Brandon's sexuality may be irrelevant to me, given his "baby girl" and Savannah. "Oh?"

"Well, I dunno. I've never been with a guy. And I haven't been attracted to guys before. But there is a guy I'm interested in now."

My heart sinks. I do not want to hear Brandon's confessions about his attraction to some guy. But I suppose I have brought this on myself by being friendly.

I sit upright, wanting to get away but trying not to be obvious about it. But Brandon tugs me back to him, and I get a whiff of his sunscreen scent. He smells like every warm beach ever. I am used to the mossy, dark lakes and frozen streams of Norway, but I have visited the shores of southern Spain and Greece. Brandon reminds me of those.

I am drawn to him. I like his sunny disposition. I like how he makes me feel.

But if he desires someone else, I need to let him go. Maybe I need to find someone else. Even if I do not want anyone else.

"What's that look on your face?" Bran asks.

"I guess … I guess I do not like the idea of you wanting a guy."

His eyebrows pull together. "Why not?"

"I am a little jealous," I admit.

"Jealous? Why would you be—"

There's a knock on the door, and Clay comes barging in. "Hey, what's up? I haven't seen you in a minute, Bran. Wanna watch a movie?"

Brandon shrugs. "Sure, why don't you join us. Is it my turn to pick or yours? Or should we let Steve?"

"Definitely let Steve," Clay says.

I do not like that Clay has interrupted my afternoon with Brandon. But at the same time, I am relieved, because it means I do not have to tell Brandon about my feelings. That would be painful, and there is no reason to do it if he is pursuing someone else.