Page 67 of Crashing Tides

“I figured the budget was low.” I reach over, lift his sandwich, and take a bite.

He gawks at me. “Did I say you could have that?”

I smirk, wipe my mouth with a napkin, and hand the sub back to him. “After you kissed me like that?”

“Fine,” he pouts, but he looks secretly delighted, staring at the spot I bit off like there’s some kind of significance to it.

“And I’m still confused,” I add. Things feel a little lighter now, but I’m determined not to spend the next few days wondering what’s between us. “You never gave me a clear answer.”

“I didn’t?” Gray eyes meet mine, daring me to respond.

“I need some clarification.”

Glaring down at his sandwich, he says, “It’s—It’s complicated.”

God damn it. “OK,” I say. Does he have an ex? A girlfriend back home? Do werewolves have arranged marriages? “That clears up absolutely nothing.”

“I know,” he sighs, pressing his face into his hands, like he’s just as frustrated as I am.

Behind us, the door swings open. Cold air filters in. I’m startled to see Jordan standing there beside a much shorter, stockier man. Jordan’s wearing a scarf and heavy black boots. Judging by the mud on his boots, he just got back from a hike. The scowl on his face suggests it went poorly. The shorter man looks equally annoyed.

They have the same nose. I squint. Are they brothers? Cousins? I’ve never seen the other guy around Halea before. Maybe he’s visiting.

Doesn’t matter. I turn back to Duncan, determined not to give Jordan any thought whatsoever outside of class. Fucking asshole. “Is there someone else?”

“No,” he says, looking up at me, suddenly grim, maybe even a little bit sad. “No, that’s not the problem. I… I wasn’t lying when I said I couldn’t do casual.” His voice lowers. “Not with you.”

I cross my arms. “I’m not looking for casual. I’m bad at casual.”

He tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. Is there something up there? Did he even hear me? “Dating a wolf is hard. We’re not—we don’t really do things halfway.”

I vaguely recall hearing that wolves mate for life. I’m not surprised that werewolves are similar.

With no idea how to respond to that, the joke tumbles out of my mouth. “I guess it would be unconventional to start with marriage, but my mom’s not around to be ashamed of me anymore, so⁠—”

Duncan bursts into laughter. “Fucking hell, Dominic, I’m not asking you to marry me.”

“I mean, it kinda sounds like it,” I ague, leaning back in my chair. “OK, so not casual, but maybe I’m not quite ready to commit yet.”

I would, though. If he asked, I’d go along with it. I know better, but I suck at overcoming temptation—I love diving headfirst into inadvisable relationships, being the center of someone’s world for a few months or so, until things inevitably implode.

I know better than to think things will be any different with Duncan.

He steeples his fingers and nods, like he’s considering a business proposal. Maybe this isn’t that far off. “That’s entirely reasonable,” he says. And then he doesn’t say anything else.

“So how does this normally go?” I ask, stealing his dipping sauce. It’s something that tastes like a mix of hot sauce and teriyaki. It shouldn’t pair well with my sandwich, but I’m pleasantly surprised. “I really like you. I can work with whatever you need.”

Within reason, I don’t add. If I’m ever going to have a better dating experience, I need to set boundaries. But I can’t do that until I know what I’m working with.

“Are you sure?”

“That I like you? Yeah, even though you’re not answering any of my questions and you’re kind of driving me insane right now.”

A slow smile. “Fine,” he says. “Like I said. We don’t do casual. Relationships are usually pretty serious right off the bat. They’re not like human relationships, where people just fuck around. We don’t get married right away or anything, but we’re usually exclusive pretty much immediately.” He shrugs. “Things escalate quickly. If they’re going to end, they end sooner rather than later.”

Jordan’s watching us from his place in line, a little too intent for comfort. Briefly, I wonder if we should leave, but we’re keeping our voices low, maintaining a respectable distance. There’s no way he can easily guess what’s really going on here, right?

Then he looks away, and I can finally relax.