“Sure, just like the blue moon and the harvest moon and the jackal moon. Am I forgetting any?”
“Probably. There’s so many moons!”
“Right?! And they’re all the same—it’s just extra energy making our wolf hormones go crazy. It’s science.”
I sit up and slap him in the chest. “That’s what I said!”
“Our pack is super traditional,” Mason says, less excitedly. “We’re not exactly progressive, if you know what I mean.”
He gives me this look like I should know what he means.
“I don’t think I do.”
“Oh, sorry I just assumed you were…like…you know.”
“No, like what?”
Mason eyes me sideways and I can tell he’s freaking out a little.
“Never mind.”
“No wait,” I say, watching my fun new friend drift away before my very eyes. “I do know what you mean I’m just…”
“You’re still figuring it out.”
I exhale and feel seen in a way that’s completely knew—that I didn’t even think was possible. Mason and I literally just met and we’re relating in a way I never have with anyone before. It’s not the same as knowing Jasper is like me. Because with Jasper it’s all about us, about whether we’re going to be mates or not, or tell anyone that we’re mates, or be kidnapped and held at gunpoint because we’re mates. It’s never just about who we are, about what liking each other means about us.
“Yeah, I’m figuring out a lot,” I say and sit back.
“Let me give you my number.” He holds out his hand, so I pass him my phone. “Working this out alone can be really tricky. If you ever want to talk, just give me a text.”
“Thanks.”
He finishes adding himself to my contacts and hands the phone back.
“So,” he says, grabbing an angel-shaped piece of gingerbread, “have you told your parents?”
“No,” I say. “They’re great and I know they’d be fine with it, but I just don’t want to change the way they see me, you know?”
“I totally get it.”
“What about you?”
“My parents? They’re not as chill as yours sound. They’re pretty high up in the pack hierarchy; my dad is Morven’s beta.”
“Oh, that is pretty high up, like about as high as you can get.”
“Yeah,” he chortles. “And I don’t think having a gay son was ever on his to-do list.”
I’m floored at how easily Mason is able to call himself gay, as if the word just rolled off his tongue. My parents don’t sound anywhere as conservative as his and he’s still able to say it, just like that. Now I feel extra bad for him.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s no problem,” he says, biting off the angel’s head. “At least we haven’t found our mates yet, right? That would be a whole other ball game.”
I try to swallow the bauble in my throat but end up choking on it instead.
“Whoa, are you okay? You nearly panicked when I said… Oh shit. You’ve found him haven’t you?”
