Alpha Girl (25 page)

This is it,
I thought.

Ding, dong
.

The doorbell rang.

‘Shit!’ Mr. Stone jumped up from the sofa, leaving me feeling rather bewildered.

‘Who is that?’ I said, rather panicked. Being found mostly naked on my teacher’s lounge was not an ideal situation.

‘
Shit, fuck, shit
,’ Mr. Stone quickly stuffed his manhood back inside his pants, before throwing my clothes at me.

I caught them, utterly stunned. ‘Don’t answer it,’ I said.

‘They might peek in through the curtains,’ he said, panicked. ‘Go to the bedroom. Quick!’

Mr. Stone ushered me from the room, the clothes bundled in my arms. ‘Don’t come out until I say, okay?’ he said, closing his bedroom door so I was left alone and naked.

Furious, I dressed in silence as Mr. Stone answered the door. The voices were muffled, but it certainly sounded like a woman. Once I was clothed I pressed my ear to the bedroom door and tried to listen but the voices were indistinguishable.

It seemed Mr. Stone was able to get rid of the visitor rather quickly, because he returned to the bedroom within a couple of minutes.

‘Who was it?’ I asked at once.

‘Um, no one. Wrong house.’ He was lying, I could tell, but I decided to let it slide. If he didn’t want to tell me who it was then what right did I have to pry?

‘All right,’ I said, crossing my arms. 

Mr. Stone reached for me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders in a tight embrace. ‘Sorry I panicked, sweetheart.’

‘It’s okay,’ I mumbled against his chest, my arms still crossed. ‘I understand, I guess.’

Mr. Stone held me at an arms length and studied my face. ‘You’re mad at me.’

‘No,’ I lied, and he gave me that look that quite clearly said;
I can read you like a book, Rose Goldman.

I sighed and caved. ‘You didn’t need to throw me into your room naked, like I’m a filthy secret.’

‘Rose, you know the risk we’re taking, just with you being here-’

‘I know,’ I said, frustrated. I didn’t know how to explain my feelings, and it angered me.  ‘It’s just … ugh!’

‘I’d love to show you to the world,’ Mr. Stone said, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. ‘You know that.’

His words made me feel like jelly. Funny, how all my anger could ebb away with a simple sentence.

Mr. Stone lowered his head and captured my lips with his mouth, before pulling away.

‘Now … where were we?’ His hands slid from my shoulders to my waist.

I sighed. ‘I think the moment is gone, to be honest.’

The dismissal into his bedroom still stung.

He chuckled. ‘Maybe you’re right. How can I cheer you up, my love?’

I smiled and looked at my feet. ‘I like it when you say that.’

‘Say what? My love?’

I nodded sheepishly and Mr. Stone kissed my nose. ‘You’re adorable.’

We spent the rest of the day watching old movies on VCR (the only kind of movies he had). Apparently he’d bought them all at the thrift store, and was yet to own a DVD player. His entire movie collection consisted of films from the eighties and nineties. ‘Films of his youth’ was how he described it.

It began to rain around mid-day so we curled up under a blanket with cups of tea. It was nice, listening to the rain and snuggling against my English teacher.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and I rested against his chest, listening to his steady breathing, and the pounding of his heart. I was completely content.

Friday – 7 days to go

One of the perks of dating a teacher was the extra help. Mr. Stone tried his hardest not to assist me whilst we spent time together, but he found it damn near impossible. I was cheeky about it too, sighing and becoming frustrated until he caved and helped me.

English was by far my best subject. I was soon averaging A’s because I’d received so much counseling from Mr. Stone. Not that he always gave me all the answers. I’d read my latest essay to Mr. Stone and he’d make suggestions for improvement.

I couldn’t believe I’d had a secret boyfriend for three weeks now. Every single evening (excluding Monday’s and Wednesdays at the café) I spent at his house, laughing, joking, doing homework, and kissing.

We hadn’t had sex yet; Mr. Stone never brought up the subject. We kissed.
A lot
. His hands wandered
everywhere
. My hands wandered everywhere too, but we’d never ‘
done the deed’.
After all, it had only been three weeks since he’d officially labeled himself as my boyfriend.

Part of me thought that Mr. Stone didn’t want to have sex with me because he saw it as condemning himself.

Sometimes I saw the hesitation in his eyes when we kissed, or became intimate. I could see that his body wanted me terribly badly, but his mind was conflicted about it. He was in a constant battle with himself over what was right and wrong.

We were meant to be together; anyone could see that. Not only were we compatible on a personal, sexual and intellectual level, but we also shared our affliction with one another, and that was something no one else would understand about us.

I told him numerous times that it was okay, that our attraction to one another was natural – animal instinct. He had no reason to feel guilty, or like he was doing something bad. He would often agree, but I’d see that darkness in his eyes.

I did worry that he might break off the relationship at any moment. Would the pressure of a secret relationship with a seventeen-year-old girl be too much for my beloved English teacher? Sometimes I thought so. But as soon as we were together at the end of the school day, he was frantic to hold me and kiss me.

I knew he loved me, even if he didn’t say it.

I wasn’t sure why exactly, but I was greatly anticipating the next full moon - perhaps because it would be my first transformation with Tom.

We’d talked about it, and decided to try it alongside one another. Of course, he’d never experienced the transformation with anyone else either.

I hadn’t told my parents. They would freak out. I did not want to be restrained anymore. I wanted to run free with my mate.

It was all arranged; I packed a change of clothes into Mr. Stone’s car for the occasion.

I was excited. It felt like I was going on a secret holiday with him.

Mr. Stone seemed pleased too. He talked about going into the forest with me a few hours earlier so we could have a picnic. ‘
A real date,
’ as he put it. ‘
As we can’t go to a restaurant
.’

He told me that eating a big meal before a transformation greatly reduced the risk of harming any wildlife – or people.

Friday – 0 days to go

It was almost time: three hours until sundown.

Mr. Stone and I walked hand-in-hand through the forest, leaving his car on the side of the road. He carried a basket full of food for us to eat, and a picnic blanket he’d picked up at the thrift-store. He never bought anything new, because the probability of it being destroyed during an episode was very high. This is why he didn’t have nice things.

Somehow, the sickness was lessened by his presence. It was as though being close to him was the antidote to the pain. I could feel the change coming, but I was calmer now. I had accepted it, and that made all the difference.

I was clumsy, tripping over branches, and hidden roots in the ground. It was cold, but I had a blanket wrapped around my shoulders.