Page 160 of Such Sharp Teeth

“But it did happen.”

“Are you hurt? Did you get bitten?”

“No, but it was fucking close.” He rubs his head. “This is so fucked, Rory.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it and deal with it and sort things out. I didn’t want to keep it from you, but I didn’t know how to tell you. And I thought if I told you . . . I thought this would be over. I was afraid I’d lose you.”

“You didn’t tell me because you thought I’d break up with you?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I mean, why wouldn’t you? Like, I get it. If you don’t want to be with me anymore, that’s fair. Understandable. I wouldn’t blame you.”

He gives a sober laugh. “I don’t care.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t care,” he says. “That you’re a werewolf. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” I ask. “That once a month I turn into that thing in the woods?”

“It should,” he says. “It definitely should. I’ve been driving around all day, and I was trying to figure out what I was thinking and feeling, if I’d lost my mind. If I really saw what I thought I did. But more than any of that, I was just hoping that you were okay. That was the most important thing. I was more concerned with that, with you, than anything else. So, yeah, it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“Really? Not even a little?”

“Well . . .” he says.

My breath catches, and he laughs.

“Hey!”

“No, not even a little. I don’t know what that says about me. But it’s like you said. There’s no logic. Logic isn’t really at play here, though I do have some questions. A lot of questions, actually.”

“I don’t know if I have answers. I wish I did. I don’t know what a life with me will look like, Ian. I don’t want to hurt you. Ever.”

“Rory, I’ve been in love with you since the sixth grade,” he says. “When I saw you at the bar that night in October, I thought, ‘Really? Still?’ We hadn’t seen each other in years, and I was right back. A lot has changed. A lot will change. But turns out I’ll always be in love with you.”

I pull my eyes away from the night. I look at him. When he’s in front of me, there’s nothing else. He’s all there is. “Well, that’s a relief.”

He laughs. “Oh, good.”

“Good.”

“You want to shake hands now?”

“No. No, I don’t want to shake hands.”

We turn toward each other. I get up on my tiptoes. He leans down, and I tilt my head back.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“Just be careful,” I whisper. “I have such sharp teeth.”

He kisses me anyway. Not careful. Not afraid.

I kiss him back.