Mated to a Human

☽ 18 ☾

I'm home.

I stare at the message for a minute before pressing send. It delivers, and I toss my phone to my bed while I wind down and get ready to sleep.

Harper's bedroom door was shut when I got back with no light illuminating the cracks, and by the sight of their coats on the barstools and mom's purse on the counter, I know my parents are home from dinner. I'm not sure why no one decided to ask where I'd disappeared to all night, but with their rose-colored perception of Black Lake, it's easy to assume wherever I am, I'm perfectly fine.

I return to my room from the bathroom and finally end my anticipation by checking my phone. There's a message from Harvey, and I sit on my bed to read it: I want to talk again, especially about your expectations and what you're comfortable with concerning our matehood. Let me know when you have the time, and I'll make it work.

The butterflies in my stomach start fluttering again. I lie back and contemplate my reply, deciding to say: This sounds like a very serious talk. You could probably tell already, but I'm not the best at discussing my feelings.

My phone buzzes, and he responds: It's a very necessary talk, and I'll try to make it as least painful as possible.

I send: I don't think I have expectations. I'm going into this blind.

You don't have to. You have a lot to decide and adjust to, but I want you to feel able to talk to me.

I read his message over and over, ultimately sending: I'll try.

Is time all you need or is there something else I can do to make you more comfortable? Maybe a glass of wine?

"Oh my God," I mumble to myself and begin typing.

I ask: Are you going to hold that night over my head forever?

He replies: After that night I couldn't help but think there are things you want to say and do but are too afraid to. It would a shame if you kept holding back.

I start typing that I'm not holding back, but I suddenly delete my words because I know it's not true. I kissed Harvey in the bathroom because I wanted to. The wine disarmed my defenses and quieted my anxieties, so I simply was what's left underneath — myself.

I roll onto my stomach, still unsure of my response, but my phone vibrates. He says: Forget what I think. Whatever pace you need to move at will be how it is, all I need is for you to tell me. The last thing I want is for you to feel pressured.

I bite my lip, answering: All I need is for you to understand that I'm just as new to mate bonds as I am to romantic relationships.

Can I ask why? The opportunity must have presented itself before.

Because I said no, so nothing ever came of anything. It's just not what I wanted.

Have your wants changed?

Since meeting you, they have, but it's a new feeling. I haven't wanted something like this before, so maybe I'm feeling our bond like we talked about.

I hope you feel it.

So I can suffer as much as you?

What I feel is far from suffering, but you know that.

Well, I hope I feel the bond too. I need an explanation for everything going on inside my head.

The flow of messages abruptly stops when Harvey takes longer to answer. I surface from my phone screen like a diver coming up for air, and I look around my quiet bedroom, still expecting a buzz at any second, but it doesn't come. I leave my phone behind and get up to turn off my ceiling light, switching it for my dimmer bedside lamp. My decorative pillows are placed on the floor at the end of my bed, and I tug my covers free from being tucked-in. The curtains are inches apart, so I close them completely before surveying my room for anything else to turndown.