CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Opening the door, Peter hops onto the couch.
Sarah sits on the bed and throws herself backwards across it. “You’re quite popular today.” She stares at the canopy until it blurs.
Peter laughs through his nose, grinning. “Yea, kind of reminds me of my last fur run with Luke. We stopped in at a tavern, and uh—” He looks over his shoulder at her, grin dropping, and turns his gaze back to his hands.
Sarah leans up, looking at the back of his head. “And what?” She glares at his head, arching an eyebrow, and runs her fingers along her stomach.
Peter shakes his head. “And, well, there were a lot of girls there too.” He grins to himself.
Sarah drops her head onto the mattress, resuming her gaze on the canopy.
Old thoughts flood Peter’s mind. His first and only night so far w
