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Tahlia crossed her legs and toyed with the gold WWED bracelet on her wrist. She wore it most days and dodged the question when I asked her what it meant.

“How was your day?” Tahlia changed the subject, and I swallowed my disappointment.

“It was long and frustrating,” I sighed.

I checked all the financials for the Baylark Foundation and at this stage we were on track for the One-Hundred-Year-Gala, but with the extra security costs the museum wanted, it strained other areas. Donations were also down ten percent from our last event, which was disheartening.

“What about you?”

“I drew up my template for the new month in my bullet journal, took some pictures to post later this week on Only Omegas. I-I even got my camera out, for the first time in almost a year.” She plucked at the bedspread.

“Really? That’s fantastic, Tahlia. What sparked your inspiration?”

“Well, it was you, actually. That story you texted about the beach and the seagulls. My stomach still hurts from laughing, bythe way. Then that night, there was a huge flock of birds in the sky and I just felt the urge.”

“You’re on a creative roll. Don’t think I didn’t spot those purple nails. What about pink? Sparkles?”

Tahlia sighed, her hands scrunched into fists on the bedspread. “Baby steps, Lloyd. My closet is a work in progress. Just like my mind.”

There was that twinge in my chest again, the pull I couldn’t deny.

Tahlia told me she used to dress in bright patterns, pink, high heels, and glitz.

But something happened that made her lose her spark and now she chose black over anything else.

“I need to scour my memory for more bird-related mishaps, because I want to see you embrace the pink again,” I teased.

I’m going to light up your world with so many colors you see stars.

“Well, I wasn’t entirely honest. I incorporated some pink in my bullet journal, you wanna see?”

There wasn’t a creative bone in my body, not like Ajax with his Historical Society and Pan with his music. Numbers were my forte, and even if I color-coded my spreadsheets, it wouldn’t even touch what magic Tahlia pulled from her imagination.

“As if you even have to ask.”

Her soft puff of surprise filled me with warmth.

“I’m going to turn the camera off, so you can’t see my face.”

The screen went black. I heard her, though, a soft rustling as she grabbed her journal and the squeak of her bedsprings as she returned. The camera turned back on, with the screen filled with a page of the journal.

“I draw a cover page for each month, so this one is August.” It had beautiful calligraphy and snowflakes. Pink, glittery ones. It looked joyous, and my heart squeezed. She flipped through afew more pages. “I track my mood each day, my sleep, my heat cycle.” She slammed the book shut. “It’s just a silly thing, but I enjoy it.”

“I wish I had one inch of your creativity and organization. If I were in a pack lucky enough to bond with you, I’d never let you forget it.”

There was a moment of silence, and sweat trickled between my shoulder blades as Tahlia played with her bracelet.

This was a knife’s edge moment and the waiting cut narrow to the bone.

“There was a pack I thought I’d end up with once, but it didn’t work out.” Her gulp was loud. “It’s hard to know when people are being sincere, though.”

I knew the feeling. From growing up in The Barracks, to one of the wealthiest packs in Starhaven, I had a big learning curve. There had been so many who tried to manipulate me for what my pack could do for them. I became commodified, and it hurt to think a true interaction was a calculated strategy. My chest ached at the thought of a pack using Tahlia.

Were they the reason she lost her spark?

“Do you… want to talk about it?” I asked.

“It’s silly, really. I should have known better.” She waved a limp wrist.