Page 46 of Jacob Michaels is Not Crazy

“Okay.” I tipped my coffee cup at him in thanks. “See ya’ ‘round.”

I started to rise from the booth.

“Wait.” Andrew frowned at me, his brow furrowing so deeply I thought that his face might crack wide open. “That’s it? ‘Okay’? That’s all you’re going to say to something like that?”

“If I had something to say, I wouldn’t say it to you.”

Harsh? Maybe. The man had turned into a werewolf and tried to attack me—after assaulting me in his car. Fair’s fair.

“Ouch.”

“I don’t trust you, Andrew,” I said, settling back into my seat. “I don’t trust pretty much anyone right now. And the fact that you actually tried to kill me doesn’t help your case for leniency.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Werewolf.” I nodded, got it.

Andrew glanced around nervously.

“How does that work, by the way?” I sipped my coffee. “You turn at the full moon, obviously, against your will. But how’d you become that, silver bullets, all of it? Tell me about your people.”

Andrew glanced around again.

“Oma said there’s a ‘were-community’ and they’re all about everywhere, so I’m curious about that.” I couldn’t believe I was having such a discussion in such a mundane place as a coffee shop. “I mean, do you have a pack? Like real wolves? Give me Werewolf one-oh-one here.”

“I mean…I guess…it’s the least I could do.” Andrew mumbled.

I snorted, amused.

“I was…that…from birth.” Andrew began. “My mom and dad were, that, so, of course, I am, too. I’m a birthie, I guess.”

“Birthie?”

“It’s just kind of an unofficial term people in the community use.”

“Ah. Being werewolves, you’d have thought they’d be more creative with their nomenclature, right?”

“Like the uniqueness of a name like Jacob Michaels?” He replied impishly before looking down.

I stared at Andrew. That had shocked me. But I refused to show it externally, even if my heart started beating rapidly and I was tempted to glance around to see if anyone had heard him say my stage name.

“So, you’ve known.”

He shook his head.

“No.” He said, still looking down. “I didn’t recognize you until you decided to assault me at Esther Jean’s.”

“Fair is fair, right?” I snorted. “You try to grab my junk I punch you in the face.”

“We’re even?”

“Not by a long shot.” I glared at him.

“You’ve punched me twice.”

“And you deserved it both times.”

Surprisingly, Andrew just nodded and reached for his coffee tentatively.