"Belle."

I spring open my eyes. In a haze, I make out Penelope's pink frock at my side. She's standing beside my bed, habitually weaving her side pony tail.

"What?" I drowsily ask the ghost of the maid's daughter.

"There's a wolf in your room," she says, pointing towards the door.

I follow her finger, and there's indeed a wolf. A big ass black wolf, with big black orbs, dense fur, and chunky claws, staring right back at me from near the door. Its ears are upright, legs slightly spread out, and fur is raised. It's on alert. It's so big the doorway is blocked.

Losing all my sleep in an instant, I lift my back up over my elbows. "What the fuck? Who are you?"

Its fur and ears droop back. Its legs come together, before it backtracks through the doorway, and leaves.

I shove the bedsheet off of me, hightail out of bed, dash through Penelope's spirit, and follow the lupine form.

I follow it downstairs, climbing down two steps at a time to not lose sight of it.

When I see its tail disappear into Chris' room, my body relaxes a little.

I feel dizzy from the rapid transition of being in a REM cycle to chasing after a wolf. I lean on the back of the couch, and wait.

When Chris comes out in his human form: Setting aside the sight of his shirtless body in grey trousers, I ask, "Why were you strolling around as a wolf inside the house?!"

No one should come between a teenage girl and her afternoon nap! Not even a next-in-line-Alpha werewolf! And transforming inside the house is a "big no-no," as my mom put it every time I muddied her imported-from-turkey carpets with four paws.

"I wasn't. I just came from a run," he casually says. His low, creamy voice snaps me out of my anger, and I become acutely aware of his semi nakedness that's highlighted by the glistening sweat drops on his skin. The six-pack and the biceps I had the side-view of on the beach are now up and front before my eyes. And close, too. If I take three steps towards him and reach out, I can touch his hardcore chest.

Struggling to keep my eyes on his, I ask, "What were you doing in my room?"

"You were crying for help," he says, walking away. "I could hear you from outside. So I went up to your room, without changing back, to see if you were okay."

I follow him to the kitchen, my eyes glued to his dry, cracked feet. He should moisturize them. Penelope at my side says, "You were talking in your sleep."

I turn back to Chris, to tell him it was nothing, but get distracted as he takes out a condensed glass bottle from the fridge and starts pouring cold water down his throat thirstily. A few drops escape and drip down his chest.

I swallow. Watching him, I'm thirsty, too.

He straightens the bottle, with only a mouthful of the liquid left flapping around at the bottom. He looks at me, and tilts the bottle my way, offering me the drink.

"There's nothing left!" I tell him.

He takes the bottle's rim back to his mouth, swallows the left over, licks his wet lips at me, and says, "Now there's nothing left."

Fingers curl on either side of my body.

Deciding to go back to the time when we ignored each other's existence, I turn to leave.

He asks, "Was it a bad dream?"

I stop, suddenly feeling guilty for getting mad at him when he was only worried about me, and even rushed up to help. I say the truth, "I don't remember. But it probably was."

"You often get nightmares?"

I face him to check his expression. His eyes are curious. I shake my head. "No. Thanks for checking on me, anyway."

When I reach the stairs to the upper floor, and grab the bottom post's cap, Chris speaks again, "Do the nightmares stay with you even after you wake up?"

I climb down a step and look at him confused. I can still see him at the kitchen from here. He grabs the edge of the counter.

"You looked like you were talking to someone at your side after you woke up," Chris says, tilting his head.

My grip on the post tightens as I resist the impulse to look down at Penelope who's still tagging along with me.

"I don't remember," I say, passing the blame to dreamnesia, and climb up. After a couple of steps, I stop and ask Chris, "Is it true? You and Jennifer dated two years ago?"

He takes out a Budweiser can from the fridge next. Pops it open before saying, "Is that what Ray told you at the beach?"

I bite my cheek. I thought Ray and I were rather inconspicuous while looking at Chris. "Yeah," I say, with a blank face.

He takes a sip from the can, and releases his breath with satisfaction. "It's true."

That sigh, following his refreshing drink, nearly makes me forget what I was talking about. Nearly.

"You still like her?"

Smiling, he brings down the can, and meets my eyes. "Why do you want to know? Are you feeling jealous?"

I would've given him a death glare for teasing me, if it weren't for the fact that, just like his sigh before, his smile, too, catches me off guard. He looks... cute?! And that's saying something, given his butch appearance. But with that smile on his face, his eyes look soft, and his cheeks shed their chiseled shape, making me want to pinch them at least once.

Yup, I'm definitely loosing my mind. I need to go finish my sleep.

Without a reply, I end our chat and return to my room upstairs.

Lying down, I close my eyes and start drifting to sleep. The shadow looking at me from the far corner of my room doesn't register in my mind.

Next Saturday afternoon, I visit the Kemplar Bookstore at Pole Street. As I pull out a copy of The Longest Ride by its spine, I hear a familiar voice. I stand on my toes to look over the shelf.

With his broad back to me, Joe is on his phone, in front of the shelves carrying the comic books.

He ends the call, and goes back to browsing, already picking up two Batman ones.

Coming down on my toes, I bite my lip. It's a good chance to talk to Joe alone. No Jennifer or Chris is around.

I slide back the book I was pulling out, and head to the comics section.

Inches away, my fingers hover over his shoulder, ready to tap, and get his attention. But remembering how I felt when Chris' elbow grazed my back at the beach, I bring down my hand, and go with a simple, "Hey."

Joe turns around quickly.

"Hey," he says in return.

I nod at the small pile of comics accumulated in his hand. "I didn't peg you for a comic lover."

He laughs. "It's a secret hobby. And I hope you'll help me keep it so," he says, narrowing an eye at me.

I zip my mouth, feeling elevated that we share a secret now, and how he has a little dorky personality mixed in there.

He laughs again. "You got what you came for?" he asks.

"I was just looking around."

"If you're done, want to grab lunch together?"

I grin. "Yes."

As we drive to the nearest Subway in his Tesla, I feel a little giddy from his scent. It's like a mix of aftershave and musk, that complements the look of his Lacoste shirt and khaki linen pants. His mom's fashion sense has definitely rubbed off on him a little. I like how well-dressed he looks.

After taking our orders from the Subway staff, we go to a nearby park and sit on the wooden benches under the elm tree.

In spite of the summer afternoon heat, the park is nearly full. Most of them are having group picnics on colorful blankets, with open wicker baskets in the middle, and paper plates and cups brimming with food and drinks.

Kids run around with balloons and water guns. A group of older girls are under the cherry tree, taking turns to take a photo with the blossoms backdrop.

"So, what do you do?" he says, unwrapping the tissue over his sandwich.

"Hmm?"

"In your free time."

Feeling butterflies in my stomach, I start talking to Joe. We talk about our hobbies, favorite food, plans after graduation — although, as the next Alpha of his pack, he doesn't have to think much regards to his aspirations. We talk till it's evening, and the breeze has gotten cooler. The sun begins to set scenically behind him. The moments our fingers accidentally touched each other during our conversation buoyed up my heart like those helium balloons the kids were running around with.

"You up for a movie?" he asks when we reluctantly get up from our seats to leave for home.

Of course, I say yes.

We go to the IMAX cinema hall in the Wentro shopping centre.

And, lo and behold, at the ticket counter, we run into none other than Jennifer and Chris.

Straight away I can tell they are on a date. Jennifer is undeniably dressed for a romantic day out, in an off-shoulder peachy short dress with frills, and matching earrings and heels. Chris, on the other hand, is dressed casually in a black t-shirt and dark wash jeans, but looking irritably handsome nevertheless. Her hand is hooked into his.

"You guys are on a date, too?" Jennifer asks, smiling.

I don't know if this would technically be called a date but I don't refute her. She has a guy. I've a guy. Things look well-balanced. No need to tip the scale.

While the guys get our tickets and refreshments, Jennifer says to me, "Cute t-shirt."

I look down at my cream t-shirt that says, "NERD." in large black letters. I wish I'd worn something prettier, but I don't think Joe minds this one since I caught him in the comics section after all.

I glance at Chris, at his fitted charcoal black t-shirt, and then back at my loose cream one. I smirk. We couldn't be more different.

"What's funny?" Jennifer asks, still smiling. I think that smile never leaves her face.

"I think my t-shirt is silly. Should've worn something else."

"No. It really looks cute. It suits you."

The guys are back with our tickets and popcorns.

As we get inside, Chris' fingers brush against mine.

My whole hand feels like it's set on fire.

And the familiar tingly sensation starts from the place my skin came into contact with his.

Chris has a complete opposite and polarizing effect on my mind and body.

My mind feels irritation at his nonchalance towards me; My body feels pleasure at his mere sight.

Inside the hall, Jennifer and I sit in the middle, with Chris next to her on the other side, and Joe with me.

Even though I try to concentrate on the movie, all I can think about is how awkward this is, and I wonder if the others feel the same or not. They're acting like this is all just another casual day to them.

I was comfortable when it was just Joe and I.

At the interval, Joe and Jennifer leave their seats for the restrooms. Jennifer asked me but I didn't want to go with her so I said I was fine.

I pretend to go through my phone to avoid Chris, because I've a feeling he would tal—

"Isn't it strange?" he says.

I sigh and look at him.

"Joe brought you to the same movie Jennifer and I were going to watch," he says.

My chest feels heavy. I quickly turn back to my phone, and hear him smirk.

The group of boys sitting at the front row start to leave for the break, too.

"What were you guys doing before this?" Chris asks me.

When I don't answer him, he leans in and waves his hand between my face and phone. A couple of the boys leaving turn to look at us.

When I still don't reply, Chris tucks my hair behind my ear. One of the boys looking at us whistles before they leave the row.

I slap on Chris' arm, as my ear feels hot.

"We had lunch," I quickly say to get Chris out of my hair, both figuratively and literally, and go back to looking at nothing in particular on my phone.

"Was it tasty?" he asks in a sultry tone.

I put down my phone and look at him again. "Can you just not bother me for a second?"

He smiles. The same smile he gave at the kitchen when I asked him if he still liked Jennifer. "Then I won't be able to see your cute angry face."

Before I could react, Joe and Jennifer are back, together. Seeing them side by side the heaviness on my chest from before comes back.

Irrespective of how the second half of the film is, I'm in no mood to watch it anymore.

After the movie is over, Jennifer suggests we have dinner together.

"I can't. I've a headache. I want to go home and rest," I say while we reach the walkway.

"You two go. I'll drive her home," Joe says to them.

"I can drop her and make it back," Chris says to Joe, "You and Jenny save me a seat."

I don't want Joe to go with Jennifer. On its own, my hand gently grabs Joe's. His hand holds mine back tight.

I don't know if Joe can feel what I feel but he says to Chris, "It's okay. I got her. I'm done for the day, too."

On our drive home, seeing me silent, Joe asks, "Are you okay? Is the headache too painful? I've some Advil in the glove compartment."

"I'm fine. Thanks," I say, keeping my eyes looking outside the window.

"I don't know if I'm wrong or not, but... you look like you're mad at me," he says.

I drop my crossed arms and look at him. "Did you know they were going to watch that movie?"

"What?" he asks, "What are you talking about?"

In that moment, I knew he knew.

"Stop the car," I tell him.

"Bel—"

"Stop the car!"

He pulls over at the side. I get out.

"Belle," he says, getting out.

We face each other on the curb, not too far from a flickering streetlight.

"Did you take me to the movie to make her jealous?"

"What?! Don't be ridiculous, Belle. I would never do something like that."

An old couple, walking a large German Shepherd, stare at us while passing by. The dog takes a moment to nuzzle against my calf before following its owners. I wait till they're out of earshot.

"Tell me the truth. Did you or did you not know they were going to see that movie?" I ask.

He takes a deep breath. "I knew they were going to see the m—"

I turn on my heels, but he pulls me, and turns me back to him. "But I swear, I didn't know which theatre they were going to see it in or at what time. I just heard them in the morning say that it's a good movie, so I thought we could go see it, too. That's all!"

"Why should I believe you? I know you like her. Don't deny it. And I don't care if that's the truth. I don't care if you prefer her over me. At least say so to my face, instead of stringing me along with you! How could you be so selfish?"

"You think I wouldn't? You think I wouldn't tell you if she was the one? I don't know who is the one! The same as you! But I'm not mad at you for not knowing."

"What are you talking about? I'm not the one who took you to the movie so I could crash their date!"

"Then what were you doing at the beach looking at him like that?" Joe asks.

My pulled-together-in-anger brows grow apart in surprise.

"I saw you," Joe says, "I saw the way you were looking at him. So don't lie to me you were only ever attracted to me. This is messed up for all of us, Belle! You think I like feeling something for Jennifer a second, and the next second getting jealous over you and Chris? I hate it! But I can't escape how our mate bonds makes me feel. Neither can you. But putting aside all that shit, I want to get along with you. I want to know you better. Hanging out with you today was fun. I want to do this again. I'm sorry I was stupid enough to take you to where they both could've been there, too. I'm really sorry. But I didn't do it on purpose. I would never do something like that. So, please. I'm sorry."

We both stare at each other, breathing heavily from being frazzled by our overflowing emotions. It's weird how deep our actions affect each other now, after becoming mates, when not long ago we barely knew each other.

I exhale sharply, calming down, and walk past him to his car. He gets in soon after I do. "I'm still angry," I mumble, as he starts the car.

He smiles. "I know. And even though I wish this wouldn't have happened, I'm glad I got to see you jealous."

Surprisingly, Chris' face, when he smiled before asking if I was jealous, comes to my mind.

Joe is right:

He is not the only one who is confused.

Having two mate prospects is messy as hell.