by Troy Hunter
I clamp my mouth shut as I realize I assumed he and I would spend our nights together now. It was presumptuous of me, and more than a little embarrassing. Now would be a great time to use the ARF device, if it wasn’t still dead, to smooth over my slip.
I’m not the type to make assumptions about a relationship as new as ours. But something about Cliff fills me with certainty that we have the promise of a future. I don’t know if he feels the same. It could be nothing more than a summer love. Because, after all, I plan on returning to Silicon Valley after this, and I can’t ask Cliff to come.
He cocks a brow at me. “I’m sure you’ll manage in the summer and be thanking me in the winter,” he says, smiling.
I let loose a breath at his response. It’s not just me then. Cliff is thinking of the future too. The thought sends a rush of happiness through me, the kind of happiness that sets me completely at ease. I still plan to return to Silicon Valley once the summer is over, but maybe those plans will change. All I know is I want to be with Cliff as long as I can.
But for the first time since we met in that coffee shop, I feel disconnected from him. The silence becomes awkward, I don’t know what to say. I’m happy that he’s thinking of the future, but without the ARF device, I don’t have a snappy retort or sweet response. I wrack my brain, trying to think of something to say. But I fall short.
“So, how far away do these wolves live?” I finally ask, watching the forest thicken around us.
“We’ll have to walk the rest of the way once this road ends, which is coming up,” he says.
I nod in understanding. Soon enough, the road ends in a cluster of trees. Cliff pulls the truck off to the side of the road and slips out. I follow him, meeting him in front of the truck. He takes my hand in his like it’s the most natural thing in the world and heads into the trees. I stare up at the canopy of leaves. With the blue sky above us and the pine needles swimming in my vision, I feel something like vertigo.
“The trees are massive,” I murmur, mostly to myself.
He leads me across the mossy ground. “This is untouched wilderness. Watch your step here.”
I clamber over a fallen tree limb, my shoes slipping on the wet bark. But Cliff steadies me, and soon, we’re making good progress through the woods. I feel so utterly at peace out here. It’s silent beyond the sounds of birds and the trickling of water nearby. I can understand why Cliff chose to be a wildlife photographer and spend his days and nights out here.
Suddenly, I see a large gorge in the earth ahead of us. Cliff halts me with a hand on my chest. “They live down there. I’m going to go greet them, you wait here,” he says, looking me directly in the eyes.
I nod and watch as he shifts in front of me. The man disappears in seconds, replaced quickly by a dark-furred wolf loping toward the gorge. He shifts so quickly, so seamlessly, it’s almost difficult for me to catch the changes before its finished. But I saw the way his legs bent and doubled over, and his hands grew long, thick claws. It’s a little frightening, but it’s also magnificent.
Within minutes, I can hear gentle yipping echoing from the gorge. The sound is followed by a loud growl, a dangerous warning from a mother to another wolf. Then Cliff’s furry head is peeking out of the gorge. He swings his chin.
“Okay,” I call, heading toward him.
I stumble a few times over rocks and sticks on the forest floor, but I make it to the bottom of the gorge without incident. Cliff is waiting for me, his tail swishing languidly from side to side. I can’t help myself, I rub a hand on his head, ruffling his fur. He huffs appreciatively and shifts back to his human form.
Surprisingly his clothes are intact. “How did you do that?” I ask, sweeping a hand toward him.
He shrugs. “If I maintain enough focus during the shift, I can change without shredding my clothes. Don’t ask me how. Here, the pups are over here.”
“Uh, Cliff, what do I do?” I ask nervously. I’ve never seen a wolf outside the zoo. I’m not sure how to act to be perceived as non-threatening, especially if there are pups involved.
Cliff takes my hand, leading me closer to the sounds of soft barking. “Don’t look into the mother’s eyes. Let her sniff you and don’t make any moves toward the pups until she turns her back on you. That means she trusts you.”
“Okay, I can do that,” I say, mostly to myself.
Suddenly, the wolves come into view. And I lose my breath. They’re magnificent and awe-inspiring. Even the pups, which are less than half Cliff’s size as a wolf, make me gasp. The mother is another thing entirely. Coated in silver and white fur, she turns her intelligent eyes on us. Snarling softly, she trots toward us and circles aggressively.
Cliff squeezes my hand as if to comfort me. The mother stops directly in front of me and tentatively leans closer to sniff my legs, hands, and groin. Satisfied, she snorts. Her eyes swing between Cliff and I, as if gauging our relationship. And then, miraculously, she sashays away, her back to me.
I let go a deep breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Cliff smiles encouragingly and leads me to the wolf pups. They react wildly when they see him, loping toward him on paws they haven’t grown into yet. I can’t help but laugh as they leap on him, yipping happily.
It’s a sight that could melt the heart of even the coldest man. Cliff topples under their weight, they must weigh hundreds of pounds together, and gathers them up in his arms. They nip at him playfully and swat at him with harmless paws. I watch in awe as he wrestles them and kisses the tops of their furry heads.
One of the pups breaks away from the group and trots toward me confidently. He sniffs my shoe and then dances away warily. I wait, I’m a new scent for him. Slowly, he closes in on me again, sniffing as if his life depended on it. And then, as if deciding that I’m a bore, he turns his nose up at me.
I gape, scoffing in disbelief. Cliff turns to me and watches the wolf pup saunter away. “That’s Lotto,” he says, laughing. “He’s got a big attitude.”
“I can tell,” I say, leaning back against a nearby boulder.
The mother watches from her perch on a fallen tree trunk as Cliff plays with the pups and I watch. Her eyes are alert and keen. I know she sees everything in this gorge. Easily, Cliff starts moving the play in my direction, gently nudging the wolf pups toward me without them noticing until they’re right at my feet. As one of the pups stumbles over my boots, he pivots around, snarling adorably. And then he’s on my leg, his sharp teeth lightly nibbling at my pants.
I laugh in surprise as the pup bats at my leg, his face fierce. Cliff manages to lift him off me before he can do any real damage. He sends the pups away, shooing them with pats on their rear ends. He turns to me, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiles. He waits for me to speak, smiling expectantly. But no words come to mind. I freeze like a deer in headlights.
Finally, he speaks. “So, what did you think?”
“They’re amazing,” I say. “I had no idea they would be so friendly.”
He nods, satisfied. “They really are amazing.”
“You’re like one of them,” I say.
“Well, I’ve known them since they were just little balls of fur,” he says, crossing his arms.
And again, I can’t find the words. I stare awkwardly at the wolf pups trotting away. The mother leads them into the forest, presumably to hunt. Cliff is watching me, a wariness to his eyes that immediately sets me on edge. I shift uncomfortably under his gaze. Last night was perfect, and I thought this morning was off to a great start. But I’m stuck in my head. This is not going well.
Cliff
WHAT THE HELL is going on? I think as I watch Dale avoid my gaze.
He’s quiet this morning. We’ve hardly spoken since we had breakfast. It’s as if he’s completely lost interest in me since last night. I sigh, leaning back against the boulder beside him. This isn’t surprising, although I guess a little unexpected with Dale. I had really high hopes. At this rate, they’re fading fast.
I’
m not the type to put off having sex with a man, but I’m starting to wonder if maybe I should have. Typically, the men I date lose interest after the first few fucks. I didn’t want that to happen with Dale. I wanted the opposite.
But here we are, sitting awkwardly beside each other during a moment that should have been one of our best. I mean, for fuck’s sake, I just introduced him to my little pack. We should be bonding right now, closer than ever. And yet Dale has distanced himself from me. Literally, he’s edging away.
It occurs to me that I might have frightened Dale. I may have jumped the gun by revealing my wolf to him, and then by showing him my pack. I thought Dale had handled it well last night, but maybe I was wrong. It’s a lot to take in, of course, I know that. But…it just seemed like the right time.
I’ve never revealed my wolf self to anyone besides my parents. Last night was the first time I felt like I could trust someone as completely as I trust Dale. And entrust him with my deepest secret. To face the fear of rejection. When I was young, it didn’t bother me to hide my secret. But now that I want to be in a serious relationship, it’s a fear that’s always plagued me when I date.
I should have held off, I should have waited to take him to the lake. Because now I’m losing him before I even had him. He’s a different person now, lost. I miss the Dale I knew before I took those giant leaps and screwed myself over. I should have waited.
DALE
I feel anxious, my stomach a mess of twisted knots. Cliff has fallen silent, brooding, and I’m no help. I’m too anxious to ask him about it and too lost to think of more interesting conversation. The only sound in the forest around us is the birds overhead.
I want to pound my fist on the ground as my anxiety boils toward frustration with myself. Cliff is probably wondering why I’ve changed and is blaming it on his shifting or on the sex. But the problem isn’t him, it’s just me. Me and my inability to communicate how I feel, coupled with my feelings for Cliff. We’ve come so far and now we’re losing ground. A lot of ground.
I wish I had the ARF device.
“Should we head back then?” Cliff asks, breaking the silence between us.
“Sure,” I say, trying to sound chipper.
He isn’t fazed, his eyes remaining dark and stormy. He walks two steps ahead of me. As I trail behind him, I keep an eye on his stiff back and I catch the tension in his shoulders. I messed it all up.
We don’t speak as we trek to the truck, and then we hardly speak when we drive back through the mountains to town. When Cliff isn’t looking, I manage to slip the ARF device from the glove box and into my pocket. Finding the device would only make this situation worse. I have to look stalwartly out the window or else I’ll simply stare at him for the entire ride.
So I keep my gaze focused on the landscape and he keeps his eyes trained ahead. Soft music plays over the speakers, thank God. This is not the way I imagined this morning. And I know it’s my fault. All of it. I want to say something but I don’t know what. I may have relied on the ARF device too much, made it my crutch. Maybe it’s not a billion-dollar invention, maybe it’s not worth its salt.
The truth is, I wouldn’t have gotten this close to Cliff without the device. This morning has made that abundantly clear. He’s sexy, charming, mysterious, and a genuinely nice man. All the things that endeared me to him when I was younger, watching him in high school. And on top of that, he’s an actual wolf. Somehow, that animalistic side of him makes him even sexier, if that’s possible.
He’s out of my league, way out of my league. I played my hand, I tested the device, and I had a good go of it. But maybe this is the end. I’ve seen just how successful it can be—do I really need to stick around? I sigh, considering the situation. Cliff was just a test, a test I got too emotionally invested in. And that’s my own damn fault for trying it out on my first love. Idiot.
“You okay?” Cliff asks, and even though his voice is tight with tension, I sense genuine concern.
“I’m okay,” I say without looking at him. I can’t tell him that I feel like I’ve just come crashing back to earth after circling the moon.
He doesn’t respond, silence surrounds us again, broken only by the deep twang of Johnny Cash.
I will keep the tie that binds us
And I’ll never let it break
‘Cause I love you.
My heart twists in my chest as Cliff taps his fingers along to the beat of Cash’s strumming. The thought of leaving and ending things with Cliff is painful, almost impossible to consider. But I don’t think I can come back from this kind of a flop without revealing what was really going on. And when he finds out that the device fed me all those lines and instructions, he’ll think I’m a liar. And I guess in a way, I am one. I would’ve said all the things it told me to anyway, but I said them at the right time with confidence. And that’s not me at all.
We pull into town and I imagine I hear Cliff breathe a sigh of relief. Then, the Cocoa Peak comes into view. Cliff parks along the side of the road and then reluctantly meets my gaze. “I’ll just drop you off here,” he says.
“My car is still down the road, so that’s fine,” I say, opening the door.
He clears his throat. “Dale, I just want you to know that I won’t forget last night. It was incredible. And if you want, we can forget…this.” He pauses, gesturing back and forth between us. “Forget this tension and maybe try again.”
I bite my lip. I want that, more than anything, I’d try a million times over with Cliff to make things perfect. The question is, do I deserve him?
“Let’s forget about it then,” I say, forcing a smile.
He nods, relieved. “That’s great. I’ll see you later then, Dale.”
And with that, he peels away from the curb and heads straight back out of town again. I sag against the log walls of the Cocoa Peak. I said we could forget about it, but I know I won’t. I know every time I’m with him, I’ll have to rely on this device to bring back that easy comfort and familiarity between us. Cliff deserves more than that. But I wasn’t about to tell him otherwise, that would just hurt him more.
I head into the Cocoa Peak, my entire body aching for an extra-large, extra-caffeinated coffee. I’m a mess. And I need to sort out the situation between us. Which means lots of coffee, to-go of course, and lots of giant breakfast muffins. And time alone.
CLIFF
I just dropped Dale off at the Cocoa Peak. I couldn’t let him leave without bringing up the tension between us. The ride back from the mountains, almost two hours long, was awkward and nerve-wracking. So when he moved to get out of my truck, I knew I had to say something. I don’t know if it was the right thing but it’s what I wanted to do. My brain said let him go, let it work itself out, and my heart said to make a move.
Guess which one I followed.
He’d agreed, so that was a good sign. But the smile on his face was forced, unnatural, and sad. I’d sniffed him then, scented him. And I couldn’t smell anything beyond the faint smell of lake water and pine. But I’d picked up a plastic scent, something like technology. I shake my head—I’m overthinking this.
Best case scenario, Dale was just nervous after spending our first night together. Worst case scenario, Dale has lost interest and will disappear shortly. Suddenly, my thoughts flash back to the market a few days ago, to the girls who dragged me into their conversation about online dating.
I purse my lips, hands tight on the wheel. No, Dale and I hadn’t met online, but I guess I didn’t know that much about him. Maybe I should search for him online, do a little digging. I feel a wash of guilt as the thought strikes me but I shove it aside. I’m not doubting him. Or being a stalker.
My mind made up, I turn my truck back around and head to the local library. It’s a small building a few blocks from the Cocoa Peak. It’s tucked between two taller buildings, situated beside a park. I haven’t been inside in years, not since I first researched wildlife photography.
Inside, the air conditioner is on
full blast and it’s as silent as a church. The librarian eyes me suspiciously as I stride between the aisles to the computers. Maybe I look a bit like a troublemaker. I’ve got the search engine pulled up in seconds. Dale Weitz, I type.
After browsing through a few Facebook suggestions, I find a link to his employee page at the Bernard Frankenheimer Center for Interdisciplinary Research of Human Attraction. The name is a mouthful, and my attention is caught by the last two words: human attraction.
At the top of the page, is Dale’s employee picture. It’s a nice portrait of him at work, a computer with blurry code behind him. He’s smiling broadly, his hair a mess. I catch myself smiling at his picture and I’m reminded how much I really like him. He means a lot to me.
I scroll down, reading his biography.
Dale Weitz, MS, came to the Bernard Frankenheimer center for Interdisciplinary Research into Human Attraction from the California Institute of Technology. Weitz has spearheaded numerous successful projects. Currently, Weitz is devoting his skills to research into computer algorithms capable of interpreting and predicting body language. Most notably, his creation and development of the Automatic Response to Flirtation Device has Weitz on the short list of nominees for the...
I read more about the device and its ability to read human body language, even DNA and heart rates, to give the user advice on what to say and do. My heart is sinking in my chest but at the same time, my temper is flaring. Dale used this flirtation predictor on me. That explains the strange technological smell he has on him all the time, and maybe why he struggled to relate to me this morning.
He got me with a fucking computer. Is anything he told me true? Or was it all a lie he fed me using the analysis of his little device? I curl my hands into fists in my lap as the shift attempts to surge through me. I can feel hair sprouting on my hands and my nails pricking my skin. I have to get a grip.
Slowly, I take deep breaths, holding each breath before exhaling for a few seconds. The red haze over my vision recedes and my hands return to normal. I have control, I remind myself. I have control and everything will be alright.