Page 11 of Fangs with Benefits

Sighing, I head for the locker room. ‘I have plans.’

‘With who?’ she asks.

‘Mmm, Robert Pattinson and Kristin Stewart?’ I am a believer that some days can really only be saved by a Twilight viewing.

Hailey laughs. ‘Bitch. I’ll get the dumplings and see you three at seven-thirty.’

‘Deal.’ I sigh.

Now just to get through the rest of the day with him.

Chapter 5

Elijah

On the second day of this new chapter of my existence–the corporate cog chapter, Dylan’s words–my Molly is in worse spirits than she was at the end of yesterday. Her shoulders are slumped and her pink lips have been set firmly in a frown since lunch. She’s wearing a tight black skirt (distracting) and a sleeveless purple jumper (endearing, charming, captivating even) and her yellow hair is down instead of plaited. The grapefruit smell is stronger when she turns her head, flipping her curls over her shoulder. She’s got Carrie Bradshaw hair, but when I said so this morning, she squinted at me like I’d said the wrong thing.

It’s been downhill since then.

I thought it was going well enough; I diligently took note of her instructions and asked follow-up questions when I gathered the courage. She always had an efficient, straightforward answer, which I understood about 20 per cent of the time. Molly, you see, might be a genius.

Her typing speed is rivalled by her quick problem solving and memory for where to locate key information on the computer. She’s fast and thorough; a better communicator than Ryan, who speaks to me like we share secrets, though we most definitely do not.

I’m trying my best to learn, but there’s so much information and with every concept comes an expectation that I understand ten previous concepts. I feel like a fawn on new legs when I try to navigate to a new tab or review a help ticket.

My apparent slowness has worn on her, and I’ve stopped asking questions for fear her agitation will worsen.

It’s been twenty minutes since she left me to do whatever it is she does during her lunch break. Yesterday she returned smelling even better than she had when she left and had little curls sticking to her neck. Distracting, that.

I haven’t spent this much time in close proximity to a mortal in many, many years, especially not a glowing, glowering one that smells like fresh citrus. Dylan doesn’t count. Mother was right–all werewolves smell vaguely of dog.

As I sit at my desk staring unblinking at my laptop, the man with the desk next to Molly’s knocks on my open door. Kenneth, I recall. Ryan called him Kenny Boy.

‘Hey, man, how’s the second day going?’ he asks. He makes himself right at home, dropping into the chair on the opposite side of the desk. ‘Molly being nice to you?’

‘Molly is great,’ I say immediately. Kenneth dips his chin while raising his eyebrows, like he knows I’m lying. Only, I’m not lying–Molly really is great, and very smart; I am the weak link here. ‘I’ve never met someone like her.’

‘That’s one way to put it.’ Kenneth grabs a pen off my desk and clicks it four times before tossing it back where he found it. ‘Wanna grab lunch? There’s a good burrito bowl place down the street.’

I stiffen, but Dylan prepared me for this sort of invitation. We practised. Though, it’s on the tip of my tongue to ask what exactly a burrito bowl is. I clear my throat, aiming for casual and polite.

‘No, thank you,’ I say. I think this ought to be enough, but he looks expectant for me to go on. ‘I don’t usually eat lunch.’

‘Ah, you intermittent fasting or something?’ he asks.

‘Or something,’ I agree, never having heard those two words strung together before. ‘Thank you for the invitation.’

Kenneth raps his knuckles on my desk and stands. His shirt is too small, but I think it’s intentional. As if he wants people to remark on the size of his biceps and shoulders. He stops before crossing out of the office and looks back at me.

‘Don’t let Molly scare you. She can be intense, but she’s good at her job. You’re lucky she’s training you,’ he says.

‘I agree.’

‘Just don’t tell her I said so.’ He winks and heads off to lunch, stopping at Devi’s desk to ask her a question, though she only rolls her eyes and spins her chair in the opposite direction. I’ve observed that Devi is a rare, completely affable person unless she’s interacting with Kenneth. She was patient and gentle as she showed me how to use the copy machine this morning (though I didn’t have my notepad to take notes, thus I’ve already forgotten).

Overall, Drummond has been a welcoming place. I haven’t had to employ my compulsion abilities on anyone–well, beyond the initial interviewing process–though I reserve the right to do so. Only if I really, really need to. Compelling humans is an ability I’ve always been adept at, but never one I’ve felt morally sound on. My brother Gregory used to lament my reluctance to compel humans into doing our bidding, calling me too moral, too caring of the living.

But how can you know if a relationship is real if some parts are built against their will?