— Kaden —

I never realized how terrible my dating game was.

What do people do? Where do they go? What do they talk about?

And she was not helping me. Not one bit. But again, she probably didn’t know more than I did.

When I try to learn about people, I generally get their criminal record, sometimes a medical record, tax return, or I have a guy. I just have to tell him a name, and he gets me a detailed report. That’s it.

But if she’d stayed away from society, I don’t know if there would be much information for him to find. Furthermore, I’m clearly not an expert, but I have the feeling this is not considered romantic behaviours.

But I never really ask questions. What do people ask? Full name, birthdate, blood type, medical history, living relatives, job experiences, and educations? Is ‘have you visited a mental institution in the last five years’, a good question, or is it ‘have you visited a farm in the last fourteen days’? I think the last one means something to airports, but I don’t have a bloody idea what that can be. Or is it more about favorite colours, and food, and movies, and such? She did say she didn’t go to the movie often so maybe not that one.

The movies. I think this is considered a date, right?

We were sitting in the living room, pretty much in silence. She looked at the few books there and picked one. I let her and looked at my phone to hide the fact that I’m socially retarded.

I checked to see if there was a movie theater nearby. The closest one was more than two hours away, and some people mentioned in the comment section that they should take it off Google suggestions because it was closed now. Well, I guess watching a movie in silence is not the best way to learn about each other and start a conversation. Talking in a movie theater is probably an excellent way to be murdered in the darkness.

I got my message app and picked Sam’s contact.

What the hell do people do on dates nowadays? I wrote.

It took maybe fifteen seconds to get an answer back.

Dude, I’m gay. I’m pretty sure neither of you wants to do what I do on dates.

God, he’s useless.

He’s probably laughing his head off too. At least I know he’s not going to blabber to anyone who wants to know about my struggle.

Man, the Alpha’s personal life has always been interesting to some. I never understood the appeal of gossip columns. I found a thread in a chat room all about rumours mostly about me and my family. Some of the things I saw… That was also the day I discovered what fanfiction meant. I still have nightmares about it.

I used my last resort and googled date ideas.

Walks. Well, I guess that’s not hard. But what do you do while you walk? There is no fancy park to visit around here, and if she’s been living most of her life in the woods, I’m not so sure she’ll find a hike surprisingly refreshing.

Restaurants. There aren’t any on Monaweard packland as far as I knew, and it would be a good drive to reach the next village. If we wanted something more culinarily evolved, we might have to drive an hour or two. Still feasible though.

Visiting tourist spots. Well, I’m not sure this is the place for it. We’re pretty much in the middle of nowhere.

Cooking together. Nope. No one wants to eat anything I cook. I can roast some wild game on a fire pit if there are no other options, but I think mud-pies were my last culinary attempts. Besides, I not sure this is the kind of story I want to see posted on social media. I trust my guys, but rumours have a way to be spread. It’s like magic.

Picnic. I guess it could be an option if I can convince someone to prepare one. It would be so much easier back home.

Beach. There’s none around here.

Board game. I don’t know how those works and she mentioned not knowing either.

Casino, skiing, spa day, day trip, shopping. Those were all out of the question because of how isolated we were, and I pretty much agreed to let her stay nearby for three days before taking her elsewhere.

Taking classes, learning new skills, volunteering, visiting a zoo, aquarium, museum. Nope, nope, nope.

Most suggestions required going far, or some form of cooking, or childish games. I mean, I saw play hide-n-seek in the suggestions. Do adults even do that? Why would they do that? Is it even fun?

I looked at her sideways.

I somehow had the feeling she might not be more interested than I.

The late afternoon sun peeked through the window and painted her skin in light shades of gold. She looked comfortable with her legs up against her body and the book resting on her knees.

She stopped reading and looked up at me.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” I said.

She blinked a few times, looked at the book, then closed it and looked back at me.

“I’m sorry. I guess it is rude of me to just read in your face,” she apologized.

“Absolutely not,” I said. “You can keep reading.”

She knotted her eyebrows together. “Something is problematic.” She told me. The way she looked at me, it was not something she was experiencing, she was reading me.

I sighed. “I guess you’re someone to whom it’s hard to hide things to.”

That made her smile. “I would advise against it.”

“I’ll take note of it.” I put my phone back in my pocket and got in a more comfortable position. “I’m trying to find things to do that would make conversation easier and less awkward, something that you could enjoy. But the options around here are very limited.”

She nodded hesitantly.

Sheesh. I guess hiding stuff is really not a good call.

“And I’m probably horrible at dating. I’m not even sure if I can remember ever doing it.”

That got her smiling again.

“I’m not sure that I have more skills in that regard,” she admitted.

I nodded. I looked at my watch.

“Well, maybe we should get dinner soon, maybe take it slow tonight. Who knows, maybe I can snatch a bottle of wine from somewhere. Then maybe tomorrow we can check this together,” I suggested.

“Sure,” she said. She didn’t look sure, but she put her book on the table and got up to the kitchen.

No one had come in with food, and we were getting out of leftovers.

I texted Sam about it.

My phone rang right after.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“You scared Stellan off, so everyone got informed to stay away from the cottage,” Sam told me.

Elaeya heard and gave me a reproachful side glance. She went to look further into the fridge and pantry, maybe to find something to make. I probably can’t distinguish cooked from raw rice, and I’m not sure if spices are comestible or alchemy tools.

“Yeah, well, we need some food.”

“You and me both, man.”

“I thought you’d have eaten by now.”

“Yeah, well, some asshole kicked us out, and I heard somewhere that it’s rude to invite yourself to someone else’s home to eat their food, dirty their dishes, and leave.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

I had the feeling somehow that Elaeya really wanted to tell me off about this, but she stayed silent, her face deep in the pantry.

“Right,” I said. “Well, let’s just all eat. Is there a way to get wine, or more beer?”

“I can see what I can do. Are we allowed back in now?”

“Yes, you’re allowed back in.” I had the feeling he was enjoying this a little too much.

“Okay, I’ll tell the guys and see about the food.”

I put the phone back in my pocket, but it rang nearly instantaneously. It was her parents. I gave her the phone, and she had a brief conversation.

It didn’t even take a full minute after she was done for the guys to get in.

Elaeya closed the pantry, as she was clearly not cooking tonight.

“Hello,” she said politely to the guys.

They all said hi back.

“What are your names?” she asked.

“Anders.”

“Stellan.”

“…”

I looked at Brandon.

“What?” he asked me confused. “I told her before.”

“Oh,” I said.

She nodded.

“The food is coming,” said Sam as he came in holding the bag that he came to put on the counter.

“That was fast,” I said to him.

“I was expecting this,” he said. He turned to Elaeya and winked at her, then turned to his bags.

He took out seven wine bottle from one, and started to take beer bottles out of the other.

“Man, you’re a genius,” said Stellan grabbing a brew, uncapping it, and swallowing half in one pull. While he did this, he grabbed a second bottle and gave it to Anders. He pretty much did the same. They looked like a pair of drunkards, extremely thirsty drunkards. I’m not sure what kind of image this gave of us.

“What is your name?” asked Elaeya.

“I’m Sam,” he answered, offering her his hand.

She took it carefully. I’m pretty sure I saw Sam’s eyes become bigger for a second there as their hand made contact, but I didn’t want to bring it up in front of everyone.

“I hope that intimidating Neanderthal hasn’t been too much of a bother?” he asked her, pointing his thumb at me.

I scoffed.

Brandon grabbed a beer and skedaddled out of the room followed by Anders and Stellan. There weren’t many people willing to challenge me, or insult me. I’m pretty sure that on some level, I probably scared the vast majority of my own pack.

Sam was different. We’ve been to school together. He’s one of the rare people that would be frank with me. I think it started around the time he realized he was gay. He was getting a lot of shit at school. He was a skinny little thing back then. I have the feeling he didn’t bow down at my feet because he was sure his life couldn’t get any worse. Actually, I think he might have even wanted me to destroy his face. But I couldn’t care less. He was not insulting me for the fuck of it, just telling me what I needed to hear, uncensored. I actually appreciated this more than I thought I would.

I’m actually the one who dragged him around with me, which ended his bullying victim career.

By that time, I was already training pretty hard, and he decided to try and keep up with me. He’s not from any fancy bloodline, there is no way he could ever match me in sheer strength. But then he began piling on muscles, and then piling some more. He became a pretty decent warrior. And then puberty hit him and he went from one of the smallest guy in our school to only a few inches smaller than me. He’s one of the people I trust the most. He knows more about my life than my own siblings. He’s reliable, and as a rule, I don’t have to tell him much for him to know what to do, or what is needed. He’s seen me at my worst. He may not be a ranked member of any of my packs, but I rely on him more than any of them.

It took only a few minutes for a couple of people to bring us food.

I moved to the dining room. The three other guys emptied their beer and joined me.

Elaeya came in with dishes and silverware. Her eyes barely lingered on me as she came in, but I had a flash of that conversation about taking care after myself. So I got my fucking ass off my chair and helped her with putting the table.

The other guys went silent as I got up. Brandon rushed to put everything in place before I, or even Elaeya, had to do it. Sam came with wine glasses and wine.

Filet Mignon, asparagus, and Caesar salad were put on every plate while Sam made sure everyone had wine.

We got to eat.

Elaeya looked strangely at her glass for a few seconds.

“What is it?” asked Sam. “You’d prefer white?”

She looked up at him. “It is fine, I think.”

“Think?” I asked as I took a bite.

“I do not know anything about wines. I never drank them.”

“Never?” asked Stellan. “Do you prefer beer?”

“I never drank alcohol.”

The three idiots on the other side of the table looked like they’ve been slapped in the face with a squirrel. Translation, they looked like dumbfounded imbeciles.

I guess if most of the things she’s eaten came from what she could find in nature, it’s not such a stretch to assume there’s a lot of things she’s never tried. I’ve yet to find a plantation of merlots, or whiskey.

I saw Stellan looking at her, opened his mouth to ask something, looked at me, then closed it.

The dinner was mostly quiet. Sam managed to stir a relatively simple conversation out of social potholes. Nothing exciting, just enough to not get drown in awkward silences.

Elaeya did try the wine.

Actually, the lot of us, went through all seven bottles. I decided this was easier than the long silences between me and her, and the conversation became a bit more casual. The wine probably helped.

She didn’t go through as many cups of wine as we did though, but as I thought that, I could see her cheeks getting redder and redder. I could feel some dizziness that seemed to have nothing to do with my own wine consumption. I mean, werewolves have a pretty high alcohol tolerance. But maybe, she didn’t.