Colleges shouldn’t be so damned maze-like. I’d been on campus for at least forty minutes and the closest I’d come to registering for classes was almost getting run over in the crosswalk by a guy on a tangerine Vespa.
A tangerine Vespa.
Shifters didn’t drive tangerine anything—too much attention-calling.
After asking three other people, the last of whom I swore was some kind of cat shifter, directions to the Registrar’s Office, I finally got there.
“There she is,” The shifter’s voice crawled over my shoulder and into my ear. I inhaled deeply and found that my suspicions were true. I took a quick look around my surroundings just to make sure no one was listening.
“You give good directions for a cat.”
He chuckled, deep and raspy. “Better than any bear could give.”
I turned around to see the irises of his eyes flash from human to cat—bobcat. “Are you just doing a good turn and making sure I got here safely or is there another reason you are following me?”
He took a step forward and his scent washed over me—a little nauseating—a little intriguing.
“Oh, sweet girl, I’m not a Boy Scout. A good turn is not required of me every day—or ever. We cats don’t really like all that do goodery that you bears seem to enjoy. We enjoy a bit of—mischief.”
A bit of mischief—from the way his lip curled at the end of his sentence, he enjoyed a whole hell of a lot more than a bit.
“Well, I’m not into mischief. I’m a rule follower. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
“Now hold on.” He put his hand on my shoulder and I shrugged it off, a little more violently than intended. My bear was clawing at me—demanding that I cease and desist in talking to this sly cat. “Tell me one things and then I’ll leave you alone. Where has being such a good girl ever gotten you? Aren’t you curious about—actually living?”
“I live. I live plenty.”
“And you have everything you’ve ever wanted by playing it safe?”
I didn’t know much about cats, but this one must’ve been a little psychic or psycho.
“I’ve got to go.”
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