Page 12 of Not My Mate

"You promised me a good time," I reminded him. "This isn't a good time."

"How about I throw you onto the road in front of that car? Would that be a good time?"

I stuck my thumb up as it passed. It didn't slow down.

He made a snorting sound as if to say, "See? You can't get a lift, either." But, unlike him, I had never claimed I could. A free ride, he'd said. A good time, he'd said.

"Sounds hilarious. Just your sort of fun. You first."

"Maybe—" He broke off and straightened up as a car made its way slowly down the road towards us. It was a garish vehicle with pink paint and black stripes that looked homemade.

Russ stiffened, his shoulders going back. "Those fuckers," he muttered.

"What? Who is it?" I drew closer to him, forgetting for a moment the weight of my bag and the annoyance of everything about Russ. Standing next to him, I stared at the oncoming vehicle, wanting to understand. "Do you—"

Two men were sitting in the front, both grinning wildly. They waved at us and honked the horn loudly. The one in the passenger seat half stood up — he wasn't wearing a seatbelt — and made a jacking-off gesture to Russ. They were both wearing shit-eating grins.

Russ held up two middle fingers towards them, turning to follow them with a defiant stare. They hooted and laughed.

"Those were wolves," I said accusatorily when we were eating their dust (and a great deal of exhaust, since, apparently, the engine was half-broken). It was, of course, his fault they hadn't stopped. Wolves were supposed to stop and help each other. Weren't they?

"Rival pack," muttered Russ, kicking at the dust along the side of the road and looking down at his sneakers, frowning. He was wearing bright red sneakers, which really didn't suit his personality. I thought they looked childish, and had told him so.

"Right. So, they're your enemies. And if I'd been alone, they'd have stopped."

He growled deep in his throat. There was a sound like teeth grinding. "They're assholes. They wouldn't have stopped."

"I bet they would have."

"Just...come on. Let's hurry up, or we'll miss lunch."

"And whose fault is that?"

"My brother's, okay? He not a mechanic like you!"

"Nobody's a mechanic like me," I informed him.

I was enjoying this trip more than I'd expected to, already.

That changed when we finally arrived at his pack's territory, of course. So. Many. Wolves. Fuck, I wasnotready. The sight, smell, and sound of so many strangers milling around, probably waiting to be introduced so they could ask me probing questions, reminded me far too much of the parties my parents had thrown and had encouraged me to attend. There was no escape from all the fuckingpeople.

I did not want to be here. I wanted to be alone, to tinker, to not talk to anyone or have strangers staring at me, judging me, talking to me, wanting something from me. I never knew what to do or say, and I had nothing to give. I could feel the panic building. It left me blindsided and gasping, as usual, even though I'd been halfway expecting it. It wasn't something I could prepare myself for, not now, not ever. That reaction had been a lot scarier when I was young. The panic, the disorientation, the closing-in feeling. The feeling that I would rather jump out a window than stay in a crowded room a moment longer. I hadn't known about panic attacks or fear of crowds; I'd just thought I was losing my mind.

Russ slipped an arm casually through mine as the first wolf approached. The touch both grounded and irritated me. I pulled my arm away and gave him a cross look. He smiled back, and I was forced to look away from him and bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from saying something pretty unpleasant. I tucked my hands under my armpits to keep from punching him, just in case.

"Dad, this is my buddy, Charlie."

"Welcome," said the big, tough-looking older man, holding a hand out cautiously, a slightly concerned look in his eyes.

Great. Now I looked like a fool — a grumpy, unfriendly fool.

To be fair, I kind of was. I thrust out a hand quickly and shook his, feeling incredibly awkward. A hot feeling was creeping up my scalp, and I wished I was anywhere but here.

"Pleased to meet you," said his father cautiously.

I could only nod; no words were coming out any time soon.

Russ slung an arm around my shoulder and leaned close against me. "Kinda tired after the journey. Do you have a room set up for us?"