Nicole's POV
--

It's been weeks, months, since that encounter. School has ended and Dallas and I have become very close. He always stuck up for me at school until Ruby and Chloe just stopped altogether. It's almost like a routine now.

When I go to his house, I see Carly, and she always welcomes me. She always hugs me. And then later, she always invites me for dinner.

I still haven't met his father. That makes me wonder. Is there one?

Whenever I ask about his dad, he just answers vaguely. His expression is always even and his eyes are always guarded. And man.

I've only fallen in love with his eyes a thousand times. Every time I see him, I fall in love with them again. They always change and the thing that makes me happy? The way they always light up when they see me.

Yeah.

I have a problem.

The feelings for him that I felt when I first met him...

They haven't gone away. They've only intensified so much that I have to physically restrain myself from... I don't even know, to be honest.

They have intensified so much that my gut aches whenever I'm around him. It fills me with a need; a hunger. I don't know what for. And that scares me. Whenever he touches me or I touch him, which is not often because I am very uncomfortable with touching, a weird sensation travels up my arm and throughout me. It warms me and makes me want to touch him MORE. To make any physical contact I can; brush arms, hug, poke. All of that. I've never felt that before.

And I know what it means.

I have feelings for him.

My only friend, and of course, I have feelings for him. I have never told him. And I never will.

But I just can't seem to stop thinking about him. Whenever I'm doing, well, ANYTHING, my mind wanders to him; what he's doing, how he is, when I can see him again.

Oh! I guess you're wondering what happened after the wolf attack. Well, I saw him the next day at school and he explained that there were more, but he tried to separate them. He ended up managing to get a dumpster to fall on them.

Don't ask.

--

"You cheated!" Dallas jumps to his feet, staring at me indignantly. His dirty blond hair can't seem to make up its mind if it wants to be a light brown or a blond. His accent makes his words like music to my ears. He told me a while ago that his family used to live in Australia. Apparently, he's a single child, too.

"I did not!" I retort smugly. I actually did. But it's fun to watch him get all flustered. He just throws his hands up in the air and falls back on the soft, blue beanbags. His controller lands on the one next to him as he crosses his arms and pouts.

"Then I'm not playing anymore!" He declares, only making me roll my eyes at his immaturity. Seriously, he acts like a four-year-old who didn't get some candy.

"Fine." I grin and toss my own controller into the bean bag and then lean back with my arms above my head.

"Hey Nic..." He suddenly sits with his arms on either side of him. His muscles are tense as if he's ready to spring. "Guess what time it is..." My eyes widen. Oh no.

I shoot up, but it's too late.

"TICKLE TIME!"

His hand catches my arm, sending tingles shooting though me. He pulls me back to the beanbag with me tugging at his grip and fighting. Of course, his grip is like steel.

"Let me go, Dallas!" My voice is all high and pitchy from the anticipation. He knows I hate when he tickles me.

"I didn't here any nice words.." He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, smiling his devilish smile. That's when his other hand reaches my side and I start laughing.

Every once in awhile, when Dal doesn't get his way(which is all the time), he tickles it out of me. His mom his come in on us at that time, but she just chuckles and doesn't even lift a finger to save me.

Dal says he only tickles me because my laugh makes everyone laugh, but that's only an excuse! A pitiful one, if you ask me.

As I roll around on the carpet floor, his hands tickle my sides and my neck, making me erupt in fits of giggles. I imagine my face contorts into one of pure amusement.

And there's only one problem.

Dallas isn't ticklish. I can't get him back. And he knows it.

When he stops, I glare up at him and realize the position we are in, as I do every time.

He sits on my waist and holds my arms above my head with one hand so he can tickle my sides with the other. Not exactly pleasant, but the tingles and sparks have me thinking on the contrary.

His eyes twinkle with amusement, and I shove him off. As usual, my shove does hardly anything and he ends up just getting off with a laugh, allowing me a glimpse of his dimples.

"You're heavy, you know." I complain, making him laugh even more. He stands, brushing himself off as if HE were the one on the floor rather than me. Then he extends his hand towards me, a peace offering.

I take it.

He pulls me up easily, and then he's there. He's so close, his breath puffing on my face. His emerald eyes look at me intently, so bright and so beautiful. He is all I can think about and I feel my breathing hitch in my throat. We stay like that for a second too long and I quickly pull away from him.

He's my best friend. I will not let a stupid-whatever this is-ruin that.

--

Later, when I get back to my house, I sit on my soft, comfortable couch. For the first time in a long time, I'm happy. Truly happy.

A wet nose presses against my cheek, making me giggle and wipe the dog slobber from my cheek.

Shock's fur smells of earth and mud and I realize just how much he means to me and how much I miss him.

He's gone more and more these days, but he always comes back. Always. And I know he always will.

His beautiful eyes stare at me intelligently as if he wishes he could tell me something. And I wish he would. But he is only a dog.

But he knows my emotions and he knows how I feel. He senses it as all dogs do.

"I don't know what to do, Shock." I rub my face in his fur, breathing in his fresh, woodsy scent. It awakens the animal within me, urging me to run out in the woods. The shadows would be on my back, the wind whistling through my fur. My breath would come out in puffs and form clouds that would soon dissipate from my body running through. Leaves would crackle as my paws thudded against the earth, becoming one with nature. My sight would be sharp, picking out obstacles jutting in the way. The sound of small heartbeats would enter my ears, sending jitters through me from head to tail.

I realize now that I ache. I ache for this to be real. But it's not. I ache for the freedom. Shock has shown me just the smallest bit of it. But it's enough. Shock has shown me a part of me that I didn't know I was feeding. This desire has grown so much, and I didn't even notice. Oh, it's hurts. It hurts so bad.

It's time like these that I appreciate the greatness of my silver dog. His blue eye glitters and reminds me of the wild river racing through the woods, hurrying to cross the imaginary finish line. His eye reminds me of the fish you could find and the sweet taste of the water as it flows down your parched throat after a long run. Maybe some dribbles down your chin and drips to your shirt, but you wipe it away. His blue eye reminds me.

His brown eye reminds me of the earth, solid and firm beneath me. It reminds me of the soft, comforting dirt as it seeps between your toes. His eye reminds me of tree trunks, the rough bark causing clans of splinters to make their way into sensitive skin. The wood would be harsh to the touch, but layer upon layer is softer and softer, showing years of age and survival and wisdom.

His eyes are beautiful.

They remind me of so much. They share with me where he's been, what he's been doing in the forest. At least parts of it.

And I understand in that moment that he did tell me something. Not with words, but with his eyes. And that's more than I could ask for.

And it's beautiful.