Page 35 of His Hungry Wolf

“You win,” I said stepping back.

This was a game we used to play. Back then, I had never been this hungry. It had also been between two straight friends. At least I thought it had been. He had always been willing to take it a step further than I was. Now knowing that he was gay, I understood why.

But that was then. The question was, why would I flirt with him now? Not only had he confirmed he was gay, but he had said that he had been in love with me.

I wasn’t cruel. I didn’t play with people’s emotions. So, why had I flirted back?

Unable to put the question aside, Merri helped me retrieve one of the canoes and together we carried it to the nearby river.

“This is amazing!” Merri proclaimed as he marveled at the scene in front of us.

“Do you understand why I came back?” I asked with a smile.

Merri tried to respond convincingly but couldn’t. “Yeah, I get it now.”

It was obvious that he didn’t. At least not from the scenery. And that made sense because it wasn’t true. I had mostly run home because of him. He had hurt me, and I couldn’t deal with it.

As much as I had liked the way I looked through Merri’s eyes, I also knew that he had never really seen me. Yeah, I had shifted in front of him and I had told him I was an incubus. But he was human. He couldn’t know what that meant.

I could have explained it to him, but I didn’t. I had never let him in. I hadn’t let anyone.

What would happen if I did? What if, for once, I allowed someone in? What would that do to me? How would that change things?

“You weren’t kidding about getting wet,” Merri said after I explained to him how we would get into the canoe.

“There was a time I couldn’t keep you out of the water. Do you remember when you went swimming with inches of snow on the ground?” I reminded him.

“It was at Big Bear. I regret it to this day. It’s a miracle I still have all of my toes.”

I laughed.

“Well, the river isn’t that cold,” I told him as I took off my shoes and socks, stepped into the water, and held the canoe.

“I’m getting flashbacks,” he said, doing the same and following me in.

With minimal splash, we both got in and grabbed a paddle.

“It feels like we’re paddling down the Amazon or something.”

“Similar. But fewer anacondas hanging from trees.”

“You all have snakes hanging from trees here?” Merri said, searching the canopy of branches shading us.

I laughed.

“Where’s the outdoorsman who would drag me to one campsite after another?” I asked the guy sitting with his back to me.

“Okay. Confession. I just took you to them because I wanted to get you alone. I hate camping. Hate it!”

“No, you don’t,” I said, not believing him for a second.

“I do. If I ever have to poop in another hole I’ve dug, it will be too soon,” he said, not taking his eyes off the trees.

“No. What you hate is pooping in the woods. Or, forgetting your sleeping pad and having to sleep on the ground.”

“Oh, you still think I accidentally forgot my sleeping pad?”

“What do you mean?”