BILLIE
“You’re the love of my life.”
That phrase keeps running through my head ever since Tristan whispered it to me, laying entangled in each other, still trembling from the love we made. I think about it as I try to study, as I run through my routines for dance, as I lay in bed at night.
The love of his life.
I think about the story his mother told about the fortune teller when he was only 15.
How he waited for me, how I was his first kiss, his first touch, his first everything.
How, once he figured out the prophecy related to the Gaelic Wolf–two worlds, human and werewolf, town and college, and me straddling them–he looked for me in every new waitress until he found me.
It's always been so hard for me to trust men I'm attracted to, or to trust myself with them. Because of what I
