Page 35 of Someone Else's Wolf

"That's good."

Wait. He'd been asking around about jobs for me and Kirk, but he hadn't bothered to text or call. What did that say about us? I had no clue anymore. I'd better try not to think about it too hard. Figuring out Peter wasn't an easy, one-time process. Neither was handling my feelings for him.

"Okay." He exhaled. "I'll get busy on that gift for Kirk. Sure you can't give me any hints?"

"Nope, sorry." I didn't really know him well enough to guess what he'd like — or, rather, dislike the least — as a gift from someone he already considered a thorn in his side.

Wait. Was I supposed to get Kirk a graduation gift as well? I'd have to ask somebody. There was a lot of etiquette about all of this that I didn't necessarily know. Unwritten rules really should be committed to paper. Nobody had told me about graduation gifts.

"Talk to you later," I said to end the phone call, and hopefully the uncomfortable silences.

"Yeah. Um. I'll talk to you."

Unless you "forget" to see me, the way you "forgot" to text or call.

Then again, maybe he'd been waiting for me to initiate contact. Which, ugh, wasn't going to happen. I'd put myself out there pretty far and had fallen on my face already.

Yeah, he wanted to sleep with me. He'd keep seeing me, but it wasn't anything serious, and I'd best keep that in mind and remember my place. So, yeah, I wasn't going to fucking call him first. And maybe sometimes, if I was smart, I wouldn't call him second, either. I'd let him wait a bit.

Of course I could talk big. But I was nuts about the guy, and that clearly wasn't going to change anytime soon. Just what was my problem, anyway?

Maybe it was something I'd work on. Maybe someday I'd even say I was too busy for a booty call. Just so he'd remember I wasn't somebody who jumped when he snapped his fingers.

Although maybe, despite my best efforts, I was. At least for now.

#

"A gift basket." Kirk's voice was dry as he regarded the overlarge wicker basket in Peter's hands.

Peter shifted from foot to foot. "I wasn't sure what else to get."

Kirk's expression was a mix of amusement and repulsion. "Dare I ask what's in it? A collection of wild venison jerky, perhaps?"

Peter's eyes widened. "No, I would never—"

"Leave him alone, Kirk," I said. "You can see it's vegetarian shit."

Kirk raised an eyebrow at me, lordly and amused, I suppose, by my attempt to defend Peter. It was true, Peter almost certainly didn't need it. And he wasn't my boyfriend, either.

But he seemed so helpless and vulnerable sometimes, dealing with social situations. Kirk shouldn't pick on him. You would think if anyone understood about being awkward socially, it would be Kirk. Maybe the difference was, Kirk honestly didn't care if he put people off, and Peter did.

I'd done a lot of thinking over the last couple of days, and there was something I needed to say. The little time I had with Peter wasn't going to be hijacked by Kirk or anything else — not today.

I took the basket from Peter and shoved it into Kirk's hands. "Here. Peter, do you have a minute?"

"Uh, sure." Peter followed me away from Kirk, looking confused, flustered, and a bit hangdog. (Was "hangdog" a rude phrase to a wolf? I'd have to be careful not to say it, just in case.)

"What is it?" he said as we got out of Kirk's hearing range, or at least far away enough that he could pretend not to hear us. Kirk was examining the basket's contents with that same amused look on his face, as if he found Peter's choices hilarious.

"What you said the last time we spoke, about Sue. Are the two of you okay?" I studied his face, hoping he wouldn't be able to hide the truth from me in person.

He looked ashamed, dropping his gaze immediately. "We've been better."

"I don't want to come between you two." Obviously, he'd chosen her for some reason. Perhaps her abrasive personality was a boon to him, protecting him, shielding him. "We won't be working together anymore, so whatever problem she has with me shouldn't affect anything." I studied his face, hoping that was what he needed to hear so that he could patch any damaged bridges.

He still seemed despondent or maybe a little ashamed. "You're so much better than she is, just for saying that. She wouldn't admit she was wrong, wouldn't take any blame at all for chasing you off. I feel bad about that."

"You don't need to. You helped me find this opportunity. Please don't feel guilty about something she did. I'm glad I have the chance to do this, okay? And look—" I put a hand on his arm, hoping he believed me. "I don't need to be better than she is. We're not in competition or being compared. She's your work partner, and I'm your...whatever."