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 July 25, 2014 8:09PM I fucking hate Tristan Northam. Hate his guts, hate his face, hate that fucking hot body, hate that I can’t really hate him and fucking mean it. Yeah, quite the dilemma I’m in. I had sex for the first time, and not only was it with the last person I thought I would ever hook up with, but it totally bent my ruler. Yep, no longer a straight edge. Am I trying to paint a metaphorical picture of my sexuality? Yes. Am I doing a good job giving a visual? Uh… questionable.  I drove twelve fucking hours to see that asshole and make him realize that his friends needed him, that I needed him, and what does he do? He gives me the best fuck of my life (not that I can compare it to any other experiences) and then he acts like everything we did was all based on the fact that he was horny and needed to dominate my ass—which he did, but that’s beside the point. How the hell am I supposed to deal with all this now? I’ve been in love with Chrissie McAlister since I was ten years old. Not once, did I ever fantasize about another dude. I’ve shared locker rooms with a bunch of naked jocks, and even then, I never felt the urge to cross swords.  Tristan has always been like a shadow in my life. I was the dorky kid that used to play in the woods around his house. Even at that age he was saving me from getting my face pounded in at the hands of Jeremy Fields. Tristan’s always been my hero in that sense. Learning about his secret world of the supernatural and the fact that he is a werewolf, only proves that he really is like this comic book hero. Yes, I used to stay up and read comics under my sheets with a flashlight at night. If I had to pick between Spiderman or Batman, it’s definitely Batman. No… my arachnophobia has nothing to do with it. Okay, maybe a little. Also because Spiderman’s hero suit isn’t as badass as Batman’s. Sure, they both wear tights that are way too tight, which is exactly why they’re called tights… and I’m just going to drop that subject now. Better to move on from that topic before I embarrass myself more.  If it was possible to win an award for annoying one’s self to death, I would win it annually. Okay, now I’m severely depressed because I just realized something. Why the hell would Tristan want to be with someone like me, when it’s so obvious that I’m so deep in the world of loser, it’s impossible to coexist in his reality of everything that is intense and sexy. He was probably being real with me when he said that I was just a fuck to him and nothing more. I guess I should be thankful that he didn’t let me down gently and lead me on.  Whoa. Wait. Wait a fucking minute. He did lead me on. All that talk about wolves finding their mates, and how I was his mate “without any shadow of a doubt.” What the hell am I supposed to make of that? Why would he say that to me? It just doesn’t make sense. As if my life isn’t complicated enough, now it’s just worse. Being gay is not easy. Back in ancient Rome, homosexuality was actually pretty common and accepted. At present, society has come a long way, but there’s still this negative stigma and discrimination. Even if someone doesn’t voice their hate and disgust in your face, they’ll do it behind your back. They’ll be thinking it in their mind. I mean, I’ve been guilty of it. I’ve seen gay guys kissing before, and it wigged me out—not saying I was a homophobe, but it just didn’t look natural to me. My dad’s not shy to voice his opinion about gay men:  “God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.”  I’m not a religious person, but I’ve always believed in equality for all. Fortunately, my high school’s pretty tolerant. We have a small gay population, including a gay club. I’ve had nearly a year to really reflect on my feelings after that kiss in Tristan’s car. I’ve mathematically analyzed everything, it’s actually pretty friggin’ ridiculous.  Cas + Chrissie= Straight  Cas + Tristan= Gay  Cas + Chrissie + Tristan= Bi  Cas + Chrissie + Tristan + Bed= ménage à trios    Problem 1:  If Cassius isvecbahis sleeps with Tristan Northam, but dates and marries Chrissie McAlister, does that make him gay?    I actually wrote these all down on my wipe board, I’m that much of a loser. Sometimes I just need to visually see things in order to resolve the chaos in my head. Did that tactic help? Nope. It only confused me more.  I still find Chrissie cute as hell. I get nervous whenever she’s around me, and I stammer like a stuttering-Stanley whenever I talk to her. Lame. Completely lame. I’ve never had success with girls. In fact, I had been trying to meditate my way towards a convenient life of asexuality. If you don’t feel the desire to have sex, then you’ll have no problem being alone for the rest of your life. Who needs sex anyway? Not me… nope… definitely not me… definitely, definitely lying to myself. Tristan has ruined me.  I literally vomited my feelings all over him, and now I just feel humiliated. I’ve got no one to talk to. Landon’s my best friend, and he wouldn’t judge me, but it’s not exactly easy to tell someone that the person you slept with finds you repulsive. Ella would sympathize, but it’s not sympathy I’m after. I wish I could erase what happened that weekend. It’s been two weeks and I still cringe in agony every time I remember.  Maybe abandonment is something I should be used to by now. My own mother didn’t love me enough to stay. Maybe I’m the problem. I make people want to run in the opposite direction because I’m cursed. If Landon, Ella, and my dad leave me tomorrow, I really shouldn’t be surprised. I’m just all shades of fucked, and it’s not entirely because of Tristan. People like me don’t deserve to be loved. Why would anyone want me when there are people like Chrissie McAlister and Tristan Northam in the world? Hell, if I was anyone else, I wouldn’t even give me a second glance.  I know I have low self-esteem, but that’s something I’ve made peace with. I thought that if I were to transform into this gnarly stud, I would feel better about myself. I’ve discovered that nothing will change if things don’t change on the inside—and last time I checked, I’m still the same old loser version of myself. So, with that said, biceps or not, six pack or not, I still feel like the lamest person alive.  I should’ve let Tristan turn me last year. That would’ve been the best way to say “fuck you!” to humanity. Why stay human when you can be the coolest animal freak in the world.  I’m pretty much broke after I spent that two grand on the warlock. The dude robbed me. He was lucky I was desperate, otherwise I would’ve forced him to lower his price—like a lot—probably would not have been successful, because let’s face it, I’m really not that persuasive. I’d be the worst salesman, like the kind that would get the door slammed in his face as soon as he’d say, “Good afternoon, sir…”  Okay, I probably wouldn’t even get them to open the door. I hate feeling like a socially conditioned sheep. I wish I was intimidating and powerful like Tristan and Landon. When I look at myself in the mirror, I feel like my face doesn’t match my body, and if my body could run away from me and abandon my soul, my essence, everything that makes my personality, it probably would.  Soul possession. That’s what I need… conjure an incubi to take over and steer for a while. It’ll be like taking a long vacation. A permanent vacation—to Hell. Yeah… scratch that.  Landon’s having a bonfire tomorrow. Tristan’s estate is like the entire wooded area of Howls Grove, so the party will technically be on Northam property. I know for a fact that Tristan won’t be there, but Chrissie will. Ella said she and Jeremy are on a break. This could be my chance to finally hit it off with her. I know I should probably listen to Landon’s advice, but I need to get Tristan out of my system. Chrissie would be the perfect distraction. And if she’s not into me, I’m totally capable of keeping things strictly platonic. Yep, no feelings isveçbahis giriş involved. None at all.  Cassius released an exasperated breath, saved his word document, and exited his online blog before he shut his netbook. His blog was private, with an archive dating back all the way to 2010. It was his digital sanctuary; a place where he could vent and just be himself. After brushing his teeth, he sank his body on his mattress, switched off the lamp on the nightstand, and listened to the calm quietness. A wolf howled in the distance, reminding him of Tristan. Cass turned on his side and closed his eyes. He dreamed about masculine hands caressing his body, wet lips crushing against his mouth, and pleasurable penetration that made his brain forget every word in the English language, except for one; Tristan.  ***** Two weeks. Two weeks of isolation, drug binges on Bane, and excessive work outs only led to one extremely distraught and strung up werewolf. Tristan finished his set of push ups and rose to his feet. His body was aching, but he welcomed the pain. He preferred to feel physical pain than to acknowledge his emotional agony. At least the soreness was a distraction. He could still smell Cassius’s scent on his bed and pillows. It gave him comfort and saddened him at the same time, because he didn’t exactly give him a friendly send off. Tristan kicked him out in the cruelest way. Even though he had washed the sheets several times, his wolf senses were far too heightened to not pick up the faintest trace of Cassius. He was all over that loft, and no amount of cleaning solution would eliminate that intoxicating smell. Tristan turned off his iPod and walked into the bathroom to shower. He stepped inside the shower stall as soon as he disrobed. The hot water felt good against his aching back, and the pressure was perfect, relaxing his muscles. He stood under the water and placed his palms against the tiles for a minute. Hot steam clouded around him, as he inhaled the hot air and slowly breathed out. Tristan closed his eyes and tried to clear his head. Graphic images were flickering in his mind, purposely taunting the guardian that concealed all his repressed memories; Cassius groaning, Cassius kissing his neck, Cassius licking his abs before engulfing his manhood in his mouth. Tristan felt movement down below, as arousal slowly seeped into his thoughts. All he could hear was the sound of Cassius’s shallow breaths against his shoulder while he touched him. Quick to surrender to impulse, he wrapped his fingers around his throbbing shaft and stroked himself. Tristan tried to focus on all the women he had slept with in the past, but Cassius was stained in his brain and would not be removed. All he wanted was quick release so that he wouldn’t have to think about fucking him. After five minutes, he blew a load, leaving him with nothing but a burning wrist, and an empty chest. Tristan finishing washing up, and stepped out of the shower. He dressed himself, cooked a steak, and had dinner in front of the TV with a beer. You miss him, whispered a voice in his mind. He turned his head away from the television screen and zoned out. Turn off the idiot box, grab your keys, and drive back to Howls Grove, that same voice commanded. He took a deep breath and contemplated his decision. Being away from his pack was really difficult at first, especially being away from Cassius. Come on. Stop hiding out like a coward. Just check up on the pack. Avoid Cassius if you must.  Tristan clenched his jaw, reaching a split second decision. “Fuck it.” He got up and headed to his bedroom to get changed before hitting the road.  *****  The woods had come alive that Saturday, as a body count of a hundred and fifty people partied the night away. Landon, Max, and Drew had created the biggest bonfire ever. There was plenty of food, booze, and single college kids that were ready to mingle and hook up. A DJ was working a set on a table, fading in with a new track, Real by Years isveçbahis yeni giriş & Years. Cassius had spent an hour trying to decide on what he was going to wear. The last thing he wanted was to fashion a nerdy ensemble and ruin any romantic opportunities with Chrissie. He showed up at the party wearing dark faded jeans, black high top boots, a grey V-neck shirt, and a black hoodie. Landon had taken him to his favorite barber shop and his barber gave Cassius a new haircut. The shorter style really suited the shape of his face. Unlike Landon’s usual soul patch, Cassius was always clean shaven. He slammed the door of his pickup truck, and walked towards the dancing drunkards. “Cass!” Ella waved her hand in the air. “You made it!” She abandoned her boyfriend’s side for a moment and gave him a hug. “We started to worry that you weren’t coming. Did you get our texts?” “Yeah, sorry. I just had some stuff to do for dad before driving over. Hopefully I didn’t miss all the fun.” “The fun has only just begun.” She grinned, handing him an empty red cup. “Start drinking!” He socialized with his friends and drank enough liquor to get him buzzing. Fortunately, Jeremy was a no show, which gave him hope because Chrissie was there, and she had given him suggestive glances every time they locked eyes. “So, are you ever going to tell us where you went that Friday?” asked Landon, sipping a beer, as they hovered near the bonfire. “I just—needed some space—to think,” Cass replied in his usual awkward way. “Is there a secret long distance girlfriend we should know about?” Ella teased. He snorted, shaking his head. “I can’t even get a local girl to want me, I doubt I’d have any luck with chicks who live hundreds of miles away.” “You’re way too hard on yourself, Cass.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know for a fact that Chrissie likes you.” “She does?” He sounded shocked to know the obvious truth. “Chrissie’s wrong for him in more ways than I can even describe,” said Landon. “Don’t encourage my best friend to walk into a widow’s web.” Ella rolled her eyes. “Chrissie’s my best friend. Don’t say those things about her. Jeremy was the bad influence. They’re not together anymore. Give her a chance.” Landon didn’t want to give her a chance because Chrissie had tried to sleep with him at a party last year, and at that time she was still dating Jeremy, and he was with Ella. None of that seemed to matter to Chrissie though. “Ask her to dance!” Ella encouraged. “I can’t dance,” said Cassius. “Oh, come on. Anyone can dance. Look at her, she’s practically begging you to ask her.” “You think?” “Cass, I’m a girl. I know female body language.” Landon wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her neck in a really sexual way. “Can you interpret that kiss?” he murmured in her ear. Ella giggled and kissed his lips. “You are so naughty.” “All right.” Cassius sighed. “I’m going to get my ass over there and ask her to dance, because I’m tired of being a third wheel around you two sex freaks.” “Hey, it’s not like we ask you to watch us fuck.” Landon laughed. “No, but your constant eye-fucking is enough.” Cass finished his drink and tossed his empty cup behind him. “Wish me luck, troops.” “Go get her, champ!” Ella cheered. Don’t stutter like a loser, don’t stutter like a loser. He kept repeating that mantra to himself, as he walked up to the blonde beauty. She was wearing a denim skirt, red tube top, and silver flip flops. Her straightened locks were styled to the side over her left shoulder. Chrissie’s makeup was always dark, accentuating her blue eyes. She flashed a pleasant smile when Cassius approached. “Hey, Chrissie.” He immediately shoved his hands in his pockets. It was a nervous habit. “Hey, Cass.” She sipped her drink and waited for him to strike up some conversation. “So, I was standing over there, and I couldn’t help but notice how amazing you look tonight.” Standing over there? Lame, lame, lame, he silently scolded. Give up now before you humiliate yourself even more.  Chrissie giggled and flirtatiously touched his arm. “Why, thank you.” Ask her to dance, doofus.  “I like this song. Do you like this song?” He nodded his head with the music “It’s a good song.” Chrissie giggled some more.

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