Page 18 of The Time It Takes

I guess we were in each other's pockets more than ever, and I didn't mind it. It was easy to be around Arlie.

When I asked if he'd decided whether I should talk to the pack about him dating men, and try to smooth things out before there were any issues, he told me he still hadn't decided yet. It didn't feel like he was blowing me off; it felt like he really hadn't made up his mind.

If I knew for sure what to do, I'd have tried to convince him, but I didn't. Not really. I was a guest here, and I was aware of that. His relationship with his fellow wolves, his chosen family, was something I might never fully understand, even if I appreciated it from the outside.

It was clear the pack meant a lot to him, and maybe talking about it first—him dating men—would cause problems for no reason, if he didn't end up getting anywhere with guys, either. I couldn't help thinking he'd feel better if he started seeing men instead of the women he'd been trying (and failing) to connect with, but I didn't really know. I was just guessing.

If I pushed him to let the pack know before he was ready, it could easily make his life harder instead of better. All without the guarantee of true love, or even a short-term boyfriend or situationship. Nothing was guaranteed, so it really did have to be his decision. I'd pushed enough. Maybe too much.

"I think you should decide," said Arlie abruptly one night.

We were stretched out on his bed watching a shitty movie we'd both been meaning to see, then putting off, until we finally agreed to watch it together so we could laugh at the dumb parts and stop saying we'd watch it someday. It felt like being a kid again and having a sleepover and just being silly together.

I was getting tired, though, my eyelids drooping, and I kept having to remind myself to stay awake. I was staying right next door; it would be weird to fall asleep on his bed.

"Decide what?"I said with a yawn.

"If we should talk to the pack before I start, you know,dating. It's your call." He didn't even want to say exactly what he meant in his own room. He had some internalized something to unpack, I thought. Or else he really was that scared of their disapproval. The thought made me sad; he loved his pack. I thought they loved him, too. Maybe he was wrong about how they'd take this.

"That's a big responsibility."

"Yeah, but you're good with people. You'll know what to say, or not say. I keep going back and forth. If you think we should warn them, if you think we should wait and see, whatever you think. I'll go with that."

It didn't sound quite right to me, to be the one to make that decision. After all, this was his life we were talking about.

I blinked sleepily down at our legs, stretched out near each other. He was taller, so his feet went farther, and we were both slouched and stretched out. Had we really been this tired, or had the movie worn us out this much? It felt like an endurance race, one we were losing.

Probably it would have felt strange to just stretch out next to each other, but it happened by stages—first I was sitting on a chair in his room, and he was propped up in bed, but the chair wasn't that comfortable and he said there was room, so pretty soon I was sitting next to him, and then as the night stretched later and the movie stayed dull, the sleepy stretching out sort of happened by stages.

So I didn't feel strange about it, but I also knew there were boundaries we really shouldn't cross, such as me falling asleep here when I could just get up and go next door. But my limbs felt so heavy and getting out of bed sounded about as easy as mountain climbing. I was awake enough to think, but moving seemed like a task beyond difficult, something you'd have to be a superhero to do.

I yawned again. "You gonna blame me if I get it wrong?"

"I won't blame you. I don't think I could blame you for anything, even if I should."

Way to make himself sound like a doormat. I was too tired to call him on it, though, or ask him what the hell.

"I'll think about it," I told him. It wasn't like I could actually claim I had no responsibility. He was my partner—and I was the one who'd pushed him to expand his horizons. Maybe that hadn't been right of me, but I'd done it, and now that he was actually taking my words seriously, I couldn't claim to have no part in it. I could at least put out a tentative olive branch with the pack and try to figure out how they'd take it.

I tried to refocus on the movie. It had seemed like a lot more fun than it turned out to be; I hadn't expected to have to fight such a battle to stay awake. Maybe, I told myself, it was okay to fall asleep next to him. We'd probably wake up when the credits rolled. It wasn't like I'd just sleep here all night.

Anyway, even if I did, it wasn't like sleeping next to each other meant anything sexual had happened. That was more likely to be the assumption of people who weren't shifters. They tended to be aware of who was having sex with whom, and it took more than dozing next to each other to make them think that.

He yawned and moved a little, and I thought he was going to tell me to wake up, maybe tap me on the shoulder and point out some new dumb thing about the movie. He moved away from me a little, and then turned and rolled so he was leaning into me, head on my shoulder. I felt a weird flattered little flutter at the thought of how much he trusted me. I wasn't sure I deserved it.

I looked at him. His eyes were fully shut now. His hair looked so soft. It would be strange if I reached out and petted it, right? It wasn't like he needed comfort. I shouldn't, either. We were both okay.

All the same, I had the strange feeling that something was ending. Something was going to change. And I had to ask myself, in my secret traitorous heart, if I'd actually be happier about him dating men than I was about him dating women. Probably not, if he seemed as disconnected and uninterested about it.

But what about if hewasinterested? If he got a real boyfriend, someone he liked enough to commit to, he wouldn't be spending nights watching stupid movies with me. He wouldn't have me half falling asleep next to him. It would be his boyfriend instead. He'd be bowling with a stranger, and introducing him to the pack. My place in his life would slowly diminish until I was just on the sidelines and not by his side. That place would belong to someone else.

As it rightfully should. He deserved that, deserved to love and be loved. I would just have to suck it up and deal with it.

#

Igot up my nerve andpicked my time. Talking with the alpha wasn't something I did a lot of. He was older, and busy, and important. But it happened from time to time; I'd find myself in the midst of some chore or activity and he'd be there, casually relaxed, as if he wasn't someone important at all.

He wore cozy sweaters and glasses and looked more like someone's grandpa than the most important member of the pack. I'm not sure he even thought of himself like that. He'd have said the most important members of the pack were the children, the next generation.