Page 37 of Mytho Investigations: Side Stories

He mopped faster and more aggressively, as if scrubbing every drop of blood and vomit from the floor would erase his own loss and pain. It wouldn’t—couldn’t—so he started reminding himself of what he did have… Why his life wasn’t a complete shit hole with no redeeming features.

As bad as it sounded, sometimes working at the hospital helped him with perspective. Sure, he was stuck in his half shifted form, but he wasn’t dying of cancer, his body wasn’t smashed and twisted after a car accident. So yeah, things could be worse.

He had a job. He had an apartment, no matter how tiny, and he had friends. He had community. By the time he finished his shift, the hurt of Adam’s clear dismissal had shifted into a softer disappointment, and a reminder not to trust humans.

Perhaps he should look into that online thing where people paid money to see other people jack off, or clip their toenails, or paint themselves in various foodstuffs. The Internet, that was something he should be grateful for…

He showered and changed and checked his phone before heading home.

There was a message from Adam.

His heart jumped, but he was bloody tempted to ignore it.

His dick thought otherwise.

It had only been two days, and Adam had a job and a father who needed care. Lucky him, he still had a father and a mother. Jake had lost his in the collapse, but that scar no longer hurt. He didn’t think his dad would’ve dealt with being half-shifted particularly well.

He tapped the message to read it.

I really enjoyed the other night. I’m working the next three nights and then I have a couple of days off. I’m not sure what your roster is like, but if they align, I’d like to see you again.

Jake read it twice as annoyance bubbled back up, along with lust. Logically, he understood Adam had spent the other day looking after his dad and then he would’ve adjusted his sleep schedule to work nights. But it would’ve taken him five seconds to send a text.

He could’ve also sent a text. But he hadn’t wanted to sound needy? Desperate? Feared Adam might reject him outright? That was more like it. He hadn’t wanted rejection to sour the memory. That clearly wasn’t the case.

He put his phone in his pocket, contemplating his answer while he walked to the bus stop, not wanting to seem too keen.

Fuck. What was the smart thing to do? Adam had approached him in public. That was ballsy. They both wanted to get laid. So what was the problem?

While he waited for the bus, he pulled out his phone. He needed to respond.

I work days and would like to see you again. We can meet at the bar or my place?

Was that too much?

His ear twitched as the bus drew closer, he hit send before he felt the urge to delete it and spend the next hours worrying about what to say. If Adam was interested, it wouldn’t be too much. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone every other minute as he waited for a reply.

The reply came as he got off the bus.

I’ll see you the first night I’m off. If you’re free.

He had basketball training tomorrow, and he’d meet up with a few other werewolves the day after. He’d be available to meet up with Adam when he came off nights.

I’m free.

I’ll see you at yours. Around 6?

Perfect.

Now all he needed to do was stop his hopes from getting too high in case it all fell apart. He wasn’t used to being hopeful and excited. Jake was used to things being okay, to muddling along, and being satisfied if not fulfilled. He had enough… and now he wanted more.

He wasn’t sure which was worse, though: living a mediocre life while craving something unknown or knowing what he was missing and not being able to have it.

Jake wanted to pretend that he wasn’t nervous. He’d gotten home, showered, clipped and filed his claws—making two of them extra short—made sure that all of his laundry was put away, and that there were clean sheets on the bed. He didn’t want Adam to see fur on the sheets. Jake had even checked to make sure he had enough lube, that was, of course, assuming he’d need it for more than stroking himself.

He didn’t care if they didn’t use it. If all they did was lick and grind against each other, he’d be happy. He just wanted to smell Adam again, taste him, and feel his breath on his skin. He thought he shouldn’t feel that way about someone he’d met once, even though the sex had been amazing—and not just because it was the only blow job he’d ever gotten.

He’d never felt this way about anyone.