For all the trouble Jamie's caused me, the kid's not one hundred percent bad. He's a good listener, for one, and as I'm leading him back towards my place, he never gets distracted and he follows behind me closely. Well, a little too closely, actually. The whole time we're walking, I'm trying to figure out if it's the wind or Jamie's breath that I'm feeling on my neck.

    When we reach my apartment, I hesitate outside the door, my key hovering above the lock. I'm giving myself this second, this moment to question if this is really what my existence has come to, if I honestly want to let this werewolf kid share my apartment with me. Sharing a house with my dad and Sybil had been enough of an ordeal, and they're both adults.

    "Grey?" says Jamie from behind me.

    I turn towards him too hastily; he takes a startled step back, itching at the mark on his ear. "Here's the deal," I say. "If you're going to live here, there's going to be some ground rules. Unless you want to go back to fighting?"

    Jamie lets out a small, "No."

    I smirk at him. "That's what I thought. Alright. Are you ready?"

    "Ground rules," repeats Jamie with a nod of his head. "Yes."

    "Okay, first of all, if you're hungry, please don't ransack my fridge. I've got important stuff in there. Just ask me and I'll get you something. Got that?"

    Jamie nods again. "Yes. Got it."

    "Also, sleep is extremely important to me. So try not to be too loud, and never, ever wake me up," I stress, pointing an accusing finger at him. There's so much terror in his eyes that I almost feel bad, but then I don't. He should be afraid, because I'm not joking here. So, just for good measure, I add in: "Unless you want to die, I mean."

    Jamie swallows, scratching his ear again. "Never wake you up. Yes."

    "And the last thing, for now. Please don't change in my house. You'll break something. Got that? I don't ever wanna see any paw prints on my wood floors."

    Jamie makes a weird face that sort of concerns me, like he's questioning whether or not to comply. Yet, as soon as the expression is there, it's gone again. He just gives me a wide, toothy grin and says, "Yes! I promise I won't annoy you."

    I squint at him. "Don't promise me that. You will annoy me. Everybody does."

    Jamie blinks. "I..."

    Before he can embarrass himself, I just wave him off and put the key in the lock, pushing the door open. I haven't even come through my door myself before Jamie shoves past me, letting out a loud gasp and galloping around my living room in delight. I watch him with a bit of a scowl as he turns a lamp on and off multiple times like he's never seen one before, then sprints over to the window to gaze down at the street, then cartwheels—no, really, this kid freaking cartwheels—onto the couch and starts pushing buttons on the TV remote.

    He hasn't broken anything. At least not yet.

    I hang my keys on the hook by the door, casting him a careful look on my way down the hall to my bedroom. "The couch is yours for now. I'll get you a futon eventually, if I like you. I'm turning in for the night, so remember the rules and don't cause any trouble, alright?"

    Jamie pauses his frantic button-pressing to look up at me. "I won't. Goodnight, Grey."

    I pause, looking at him for a moment. I'm not sure why, but the grin on his face makes me feel weird, almost bubbly, and then there's this smile on my face that totally snuck up on me. I grunt, just shaking my head. Damn Midge and Safiya, doing this to me. "I'll see you in the morning, Jamie."

I take it back. He's not a good listener.

    Because guess who wakes me up first thing in the morning?

    Oh, there's no point in guessing. You know who.

    I'm having this pleasant dream where I'm drinking green tea while simultaneously doing flips on a jet ski when I feel something wet on my face, and I open one eye with a grimace, only to be met with another wholehearted lick from Jamie.

    I'm not sure if this is his way of showing appreciation or whatever, but I do know that he's breaking two of my rules at the same time: he's waking me up, and he's also a wolf.

    No, no. This is not going to work. Not at all.

    I spring awake, and Jamie staggers back, his hind legs screeching across the floor. Disgustedly wiping a hand across my face, I let out a loud groan. "Jamie, what did I tell you—change back! Right now!"

    He gives me puppy dog eyes, whimpering at me, but I'm not taking any of that from him. I get out of my bed, throwing the covers back and repeating myself. "Change back, Jamie. Right now."

    Jamie whimpers again, but his shoulders narrow and the fur disappears, his tail shrinking into his spine as he melts back into his gangly, teenage self. When I see that he's still wearing his old, bloodstained clothes, it dawns on me that he hasn't even had a bath yet. Some caretaker I am.

    I rub my eyes, tapping my foot impatiently. My shirt's got a drool stain on it and my tail's wagging as it tends to do when I get flustered, but I'm way beyond caring. "What did I tell you?" I yelp. "I said not to wake me up. I said not to change. And then you go and—"

    "I'm sorry!" wails Jamie, collapsing against the floor and hiding his face from me. I raise my eyebrows at him as he goes on, "It just happens when I get nervous."

    "Nervous?" I snap. "Why would—why would you be nervous? Did something happen?"

    "Someone called," Jamie confesses, looking up at me through his fingers. "And I didn't know what to do, so I..."

    I pause, sinking back down to a seat on the edge of my bed as Jamie draws himself up from the floor. "They called on the landline, didn't they?" I ask, even though I already know. If they'd called my cell phone, I would have known, considering I keep it right on my nightstand. More than once Sybil's called me in the middle of the night, usually to ask me to get something for her or to complain about Dad. Mostly to complain about Dad.

    Jamie's eyebrows draw in. "Land...line?"

    I roll my eyes. "The phone on the dock, in my kitchen. Is that the one that rang?"

    Jamie nods quietly.

    "And you picked up?"

    He lowers his gaze in shame. "Yes."

    "What did they say?"

    "Well, they said their name was Rocco and to buzz them up, so I hit the button..."

    No, no, no. This morning just keeps getting worse. I scramble to my feet, searching wildly through my closet for a shirt that doesn't have my drool on it. I feel Jamie's eyes on me, and I know he's confused even before I turn to him and ask, "How long ago was this?"

    "Not more than a minute."

    "Jesus, Jamie. You mean Rocco's on his way up right now? Like, as we speak?"

    He doesn't have to answer, because then there's knocking on my front door. Cursing under my breath, I take a capful of mouthwash and gesture at Jamie to stay put. It'd be better if Rocco never saw him; that way, I'd have way less explaining to do.

    "Grey?" calls a voice from behind my front door, and with a sigh, I confirm it's Rocco. He really has to stop just showing up. I don't think he knows it, but this is the precise reason phones exist. "Grey, open up!"

    I swing open the door and try to say hello, but I still have mouthwash in my mouth, so it just sounds like a strange underwater screech.

    Rocco gives me a surprised look, and I swallow the mouthwash down, seeing no other way out. I wait until the burning stops to say, "Please call me next time, Rocco. Please."

    He chuckles, scanning me with hesitant green eyes, from my wrinkled shirt to the tip of my tail, which I hastily tuck down my pant leg. "You certainly look like you just rolled out of bed," Rocco observes.

    I try to smile at him, but my lips twist into a scowl instead. I scrub a hand through the unruly bird's nest that is currently my hair and lean against the doorjamb, accidentally purposefully blocking his way in. "It's nice of you to say hello. Really. But could I meet you for lunch, or something? I've kinda got something—"

    I'm cut off by a loud thud, jarring enough that both Rocco and I jolt. Damn you, Jamie. I told you to stay put.

    Rocco's interest is obviously piqued. He tries to pass the threshold, but I put a hand on his chest to stop him, laughing uncomfortably. "It's nothing! It's nothing. You should go, Rocco."

    He narrows his eyes at me, bringing my hand away from him. I let out a startled yelp as he shoulders by me, pausing in the living room to look around. "You're hiding something from me, aren't you, Grey? I thought we talked about this."

    I slam the door shut. I don't mean to slam it; I really don't. And the fact Rocco looks at me afterwards like he's going to slap me doesn't make it any better. I grumble, "Like you're entitled to know just every little thing that goes on in my life, Rocco. You're being dramatic."

    "I'm not. Just tell me what thudded and maybe I'll leave you alone."

    "Maybe? That's not enough of an incentive!"

    Rocco, leaned back against the arm of my couch, folds his arms, leveling a cold stare that says Tell me what's going on right here, right now, or I will punch you in the face. And he will do it. I know the guy.

    I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling a migraine coming on. "It's a painfully long story, Rocco."

    He clicks his teeth, one golden eyebrow risen. "I've got nothing but time, man."

    I spend a few moments trying to figure out a way to get out of this, but alas, there's nothing. I was doomed as soon as his fist struck my door. Rocco's anything but timid; he's more stubborn than me, and that's certainly saying something.

    Rubbing my eyes, I call, "Jamie, if you broke something, I'm actually going to kill you."

    There's more thudding, and then the creak of a door. I roll my eyes as I see a flash of white fur peek around the corner before it melts away again, and Jamie comes sulking into the living room, his eyes trained on the floor underneath him.

    "Well?" I snap. "Did you break something?"

    Jamie shakes his head. "No. I promise, I didn't."

    I'm about to question him further, but then Rocco scoffs. "I thought you'd taken in a stray cat, Grey. Not a stray werewolf."
     "I was forced into it!" I counter, gesturing broadly towards Jamie, who's still standing there with this mopey look on his face like I took all the dog treats. "It wasn't my decision. It's a long story. I told you that."

    Rocco's acting like this is beyond his comprehension. Probably because it is. I mean, it's beyond mine—but if there's one thing the recent events have taught me, it's that my comprehension isn't apparently that broad in the first place. "Alright, that's it. You're gonna have to let me in on this."

    "Let you in on...let you in on what?"

    "Oh, don't act stupid. All these attacks...you've been trailing them, haven't you?"

    Here is the thing about what people call friends. They're nice and all, but they're also creepy as hell, some of them. Rocco, for instance, knows me better than I know myself most of the time, and it's sweet of him, sure, but also, as I said, extremely creepy. I can't call myself mysterious, not with Rocco around.

    My shoulders slump a little. "What do you know about that?"

    Rocco shrugs. "You told me a bit of it, but I'm pretty sure you were drunk."

    "I wasn't—"

    "You were drunk, Grey. But I mean, that's beside the point. The point is, I know you wouldn't let any of this slide," Rocco tells, casting Jamie a wary look before turning and plopping himself down on the couch. "So you might as well fill me in."

    I grimace, cursing the heavens. Safiya, Midge and I have already gotten in enough less than ideal situations that we barely made it out of. I'm not sure I wanna put one more of my friends' lives in danger. And Rocco, of all people. What can he do except stand there and look cool?

    "I don't know, Rocco," I tell him, truthfully.

    "Who knows, Grey?" he adds with a gentle, lopsided smile, a dimple in his cheek. "I may even want to help you out."