One Night Stand, Then My Mate

What Ever Should i Do?

It’s been such a long time since I’ve heard his voice. So many days. Almost one hundred days to be exact. Yes, I keep count. He’s not showing any signs of improvement. It’s been three and a half months. I expected more. I expected him to be better with his arms wrapping around me, kissing me freely and fiercely.

My mind tells me to move on. My body wants to do the work for him to make him stronger. My heart, oh my heart, calls and cries and screams his name. I want him back. I want to ask him all of the questions that are built up inside of me. Will you marry me?

I think about his pack and how they’ll be against us. I think about if I were to find anyone from his life that knows even a sliver of who this man is. Someone who can tell me his god damn birthday.

I have to work in the morning, but I’m tossing and turning in my bed trying to think about how little I know him, but how madly I love him. Is this even possible? Maybe it’s just lust. But if it were just lust would i be here in my bed crying and praying for him? Would i be at the hospital more hours than i work? Would i tear myself apart to figure him out? Doubtful.

Then the thought radiates through me. You shouldn’t. But i want to do badly. I want to break into Vintage Point. I want to find out more.

I scurry out of bed before my conscience can tell me no once more. I slip on my shoes and change into a darker outfit than my pink butterfly pajamas. I don’t want to stick out. I don’t want to get caught, because how can I actually explain what I’m doing? Oh sorry officer, I was breaking in to find out more information on my boyfriend (who isn’t my boyfriend) to find out more about him because he’s in a coma. My inner self laughs at me. She’s rolling on the ground in tears by my stupidity.

Once I’m changed, I run out to my Chrysler and hop in the front seat. My breathing is heavy. You’re nervous. I am nervous, this is completely out of character for me. I have never thought of breaking and entering.

I start driving down the road, my hands shaking around the steering wheel. My breathing is still heavy. My heart is jumping out of my chest. You have to calm down, you criminal. I have about a ten minute drive to his shop and i cannot for the life of me steady myself. Im going to throw up.

I keep driving. Thoughts of Miles fill my head. Thoughts of what our future could be. Then thoughts of his body laying on the ground, lifeless because of me. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, I don’t know what. I just don’t know if I could stand to be the cause of him dying. The guilt is sinking in. Maybe I should move on, while I have a chance. I shake my head as if it’s not even possible. All I think is Miles.

I arrive at VP and then my lights completely off. I turn off my radio to turn the light shining on my face off. My nerves are more scattered than before and i was on the verge of throwing up before. My heart is in my stomach.

I walk up to the front door. It’s a metal door, with a little rectangle of a window. The doorknob is steel. I first, check to see if it’s locked. And to my reckoning, it is. Go figure. The woman in my head, me, your conscience, tells me I’m already here and to break the window.

Wow we are really doing this. I look down to the ground to find a rock big enough to break the glass. To the left of me I find a hunk of rock from a brick, i take it and begin smashing it into the window.

It’s easier said then done. It also looks so easy in the movies. In fact, it isn’t. It takes more than 5 hard hits to the thick glass before it starts cracking. Good god, this is hard. But it’s to late to turn back now, I’ve already made cracks in the window.

I take a couple more strikes against the window and it shatters. Finally. I’m sweating, and usually, I’m not one to sweat. You also don’t do any physical labor. Reaching into the area of what used to be the window, i unlock the door. Then carefully opening the door.

It smells like oil, and gas in here. Dirty, but clean at the same time. I like it. It reminds me of Miles. Well, no s**t, it’s his shop. I walk so slowly. I don’t know why I feel like someone is here, but I know that no one is. They would’ve came out here by now after hearing me take about 15 hard swings at the damn window.

I walk around, admiring the shop. Mikes works here. I flush at the thought of seeing miles with black oil on his face, hands dirty, and sweat beads on his forehead. I come around the corner and try to find his office. There has to be one or two in here. Has to be.

And to my surprise there’s an office to my right, just around the bikes. I want to be extra careful so I don’t touch anything or tip a bike over. The thought of doing so makes me sweat even more. God it’s hot in here.

I reach his office ever so carefully, and i read the name tag on the door Miles James. His name is so beautiful to me. I read it in my head over and over

Miles James

Miles James

Miles James

Miles James

Reaching for the door knob, i notice to my surprise that it isn’t locked. I sign with relief. I don’t know what i would’ve done if it had been locked. There wasn’t a window to this door. There wouldn’t have been a way inside without taking one of his power tools to it. And if I’m completely honest, I have no earthly idea how to even start one up.

Walking inside, i see his desk. A hard mahogany desk. It smells so fresh in here. So woodsy. There’s an office chair and two standard desk chairs on the opposite side of his desk. A computer sits on his desk along with his calendar and a phone. It’s not an ordinary desk phone. It’s an IPhone. My curiosity peaks.

Should i? I shouldn’t, but will I? Yes. Yes yes. We’ve already come this far, I want answers. I start with his desk drawers, nothing but billing receipts. Then i go to his computer and it’s not even password protected. I search his files and his calendar on his computer, nothing peaks my interest.

I carefully put everything back the way it was and leave his computer to move on to the next thing at task. His calendar on his desk. I search through every month, flipping through the pages slowly. Reading every word. I notice he has every Full Moon marked at meeting. Who is he meeting and where are they?

It makes sense that he has to meet somewhere every full moon, given that he’s a werewolf, but it doesn’t explain where he goes or who he goes with.

I continue my search through his calendar and i flip to the very back of it. On most calendars, the personal ones that come in a spiral notebook, like the one I’m growing through, it has a place in the back for notes, numbers, addresses, special dates. Maybe i can find something.

I flip nervously as I find the area in search. I flip past the notes. Nothing is there. Then to the phone numbers, and there’s only two there. Nathanil Reeves and Mack Jones. I very nervously, type the names and numbers in my phone. Just in case. I flip to the addresses and there’s his home address, 194 Crest Drive. I punch that into my notes as well. Finally I have something.

I feel like an FBI agent or a personal investigator. I humble myself remembering what I just did was in fact illegal and I could serve some serious jail time. It’s all completely worth it if you ask me. His people, his family, his pack or whatever you want to call it deserves to know about him and his condition.

I try to think of a cleverly way to contact Nathanil and Mack. I’m not even sure they know each other or talk to each other anymore. Surely they do. He has to speak to at least one other person other than I. He told me he has a pack. Surely they’re apart of it.

What i can’t wrap my mind around is why hasvent they looked for him. Why haven’t they searched the hospital. If it was my sister missing, I’d call every police station, every hospital. I would go to extreme measurements to find her. Why doesn’t he have the same?

I stop my thoughts and remember Miles’ work phone. I want to search through it. I want to do badly. But i feel as if it’s an invasion of his privacy. What you’re doing right now is already an invasion of his privacy. I pick it up, and immediately it’s password protected. Of course it is. It should be that way.

If i knew him well enough I would be able to try to guess his password with his favorite color or his favorite combination or numbers, but i don’t. I don’t know enough about it. It’s all a guessing game or in this case, a investigation game.

I set his phone back down in its place and try to clean up any messes I’ve made from rummaging through his things and carefully make my exit from his office. I tiptoe around the bikes and head for the front door. I don’t know why I’m scared. It’s nearly midnight and no one is out here. Plus, it’s pitch black, but still i hold my breath and run quickly to my car and start the engine heading back to my house.

Maybe now I can get some sleep. I can think of a plan on how to contact Miles and Nathanil in the morning. But first things first, all this sneaking around has made me very tired. In fact, i think this will be the first time I sleep peacefully in the last one hundred days. Finally I have some clues on what to do next. Finally.