His Uncertain Territory (BoyxBoy)

Chapter ~ 22

Quinn

It's been two days since the changing room incident, I didn't go into school yesterday, and I'm now in the somewhat early stages of becoming a recluse. I hadn't left my bedroom since I got home lunchtime Thursday. What was the point in coming out? The only thing that was going to happen if I did was to be bombarded with probing questions by my mother, not to mention I haven't even told my father about my male mate. Well, there was no point now. Ethan doesn't even want me... Okay, scrap that – he may want me, but not enough. Not enough to be with me.

"Honey, I made you a full English breakfast – your favorite." My mom called through the door. Seriously sometimes I worry about her state of mind. If I haven't come out of my room for a day and a half, what makes her think I'm going to come out now?

"English breakfast..." She cooed, ah she's going to try and entice me out.– Like a dog. Great.

"Like a wolf actually my love. You can't say you're not hungry." My mother called listening into my thoughts. I quickly closed my thoughts up.

Frowning I looked towards the door determined not to fall into her trap... but damn I'm hungry.

"Look just open the door, and I'll bring in your breakfast. You have to eat. I'm worried about you honey." I growled low in my throat. She just doesn't give up, does she!

"No honey, I don't because despite what you think, I will always worry about you – even when you're grey and old." I tensed shutting my eyes tight. I sighed. Just because the one person who should care for me doesn't, doesn't mean I should push away the people who do.

"Fine" I sighed knowing she would hear me, as hauled myself off my bed and hobbled over to open the door – my legs aching with stiffness.

"I'm definitely getting rid of bedroom locks in this house. They cause nothing but trouble." Mom grumbled to herself, as she made her way into my room with a tray of English breakfast in hand.

"Thanks," I muttered taking the tray from her before walking back to my bed and began to eat. I was starving, and this breakfast was heaven. I knew when I opened the door that my mother had no intention of leaving, so it came to no surprise when she plonked herself next to me and placed her hand on my back.

"Honey tell me what's wrong. It's him isn't it?" I tensed, of course, I should have known my mother has an uncanny sense of knowing what's wrong. I gulped down the food I had in my mouth, and then - overcome with an unnerving sense of dread - just stared at my plate. After a few more seconds of eerie silence, I dumped the tray and its contents on the bedside table and got up.

"Quinn darling talk to me, tell me what's wrong. A problem shared is a problem halved."

I walked towards my window and stared absent-mindedly out across the yard, choosing to ignore my mother's comment. Nothing could half my problem. Unfortunately, I was on my own. Not even my mother could help me with this one.

My dad was mowing the lawn, and Ralf was running alongside him barking his small little head off. He didn't like the lawn mower – an alien intruder to his domain. I almost smiled as my eyes followed him around the lawn. There was something about that little dog which was mildly amusing. I remember when I was young. I was determined that he was my mate. It's laughable, but I can't help but think that if he was, then I wouldn't have had to endure all these years of pain.

"Quinn, are you ignoring your mother?" I blinked looking back to see my dear mother frowning at me from her perch on my bed.

"No sorry," I muttered as I ran my fingers through my tangled up hair.