Chapter 7
929 Words
Odessa's POV
The man behind the counter looked a lot like Cheech Marin. His face looked like it had seen a thousand stories, and his white t-shirt was probably worn in half of them. His black hair barely covered his head, and as he looked at me, his wide nose spread out a little.
I grabbed three newspapers and a pack of gum while pretending not to see his eyes. He didn't move when I gave him a ten, he just looked at me like he was trying to figure out where I fit in.
"Talk to the owner if you're looking for work," he told her without being asked. They always got more jobs than what was written in the paper.
I tried to smile. "Thank you."
He was just trying to be nice, but it still made me feel bad. I didn't want anyone to see me. No one was supposed to remember my face.
I took my newspapers to a metal bench and curled up against the cold surface to watch the birds fight over food scraps. As I brushed my hair out of my face, a gust of wind blew it into my face. I looked down at an older couple sitting a few seats away. They laughed as they threw bread to the birds and watched as one of them waddled in a circle before grabbing a piece.
I wished I had that much peace.
A few feet away, the tram came to a screeching stop. The sound made my shoulders tense. As they got off the boat, a group of cosplayers huddled together, fighting against the wind. I couldn't help but grin when I saw that one of them was dressed as a dog.
They should have known.
After letting out a sigh, I went back to my newspapers and turned to the ads page. A lot of the jobs were sketchy or needed skills I didn't have. A few medical trials caught my attention, but I quickly forgot about them. My body wasn't really human. I had no idea what those drugs would do to me.
I had to get money. It wasn't cheap to stay in hotels, and my savings wouldn't last forever. Stability was important for me if I wanted to keep my freedom.
First, the groceries. Then a job.
The Lakeside Marketplace was busy and smelled like a lot of different places. The smell of spices, baked bread, sweat, and perfume all mixed together, making it too much for my wolf to handle.
As I moved through the halls with my cart, I tried to concentrate. I liked shopping because it was neat, the fresh food was colorful, and I could make my choices quietly. Now, though, every choice felt worse. There was a bunch of apples for less money, but would I eat them before they went bad? I didn't have a real kitchen, so canned goods lasted longer. Every thing I touched felt like a risk to my life.
I turned a corner and hit something solid because I was thinking too much. As I stumbled back, I caught my breath as I realized it wasn't another cart, but a guy.
I looked up and said, "s**t, I'm sorry."
His red hair curled a little at the ends. He was tall and broad, with sharp features. His beard was well-groomed, but it was the brown eyes with gold spots that made my stomach drop. They were sharp and observant.
A shifter.
His voice was deep and smooth, and he said, "No problem." But his eyes were on me for a little too long.
I tried hard to laugh. "It's not like you're hard to miss."
He raised an amused eyebrow, and I knew I had said too much. Before I could make things worse, I spun around and pushed my cart toward the line to pay.
That smell.
I first thought it was his cologne because it smelled sharp and spicy. No, it wasn't that. It was something else. Something you know. The way an alpha smells.
As fear shot through me, I squished my hands together on the cart. How likely was it that I'd meet another shifter here? Was it just a happy accident? Or was he sent to find me?
"Your name slipped my mind!"
His voice was too loud and steady to be heard in the store. My heart was beating fast in my ears.
Then I saw it: the change in his face, the small opening of his eyes as he realized what was going on.
He knew.
What the heck?
I skipped it. I pushed my cart right into his path and watched as he sidestepped to avoid getting hit.
"Ma'am!" You need to pay for those!"
As I ran, the cashier's voice was hard to hear over the sound of my boots hitting the tile floor. I didn't stop until I was out the door and around the corner. I gasped for air as I ran.
I had lost him.
For now.
I put my hand to my chest and felt my heart beating fast. Being around another shifter for so long had almost made me forget to be careful. I couldn't afford to make that mistake, though.
It was too late for me to wait to find out who he was or if he had been looking for me.
Freedom meant not being able to be touched. It meant staying away from threats, no matter how beautiful or interesting they looked.
I chose not to return.
I was free.
- Writer
