My Girlfriend Bites (Young Adult Paranormal Werewolf Romance)

Chapter 1

Aiden

I brace for the most insane thing that I’ve ever attempted, telling a girl that I’m in love with her. But that’s only one fire pit I have to jump over. This wasn’t any girl. Hell no, I couldn’t fall in love with the standard girl I could borrow a pen or a piece of paper from. A standard girl I could maybe fool into having a burger with me after school. I couldn’t make life that simple for myself. I had to fall in love with the hottest girl ever conceived by the Almighty…Pamela Osterhaus. She laughs with some friends standing around her locker as school wakes up for hour number one of this amazing Monday morning.

Well, I’m hoping my Monday will be amazing. It could be a disaster of Death Star proportions. Do you ever wonder about all those millions of stormtroopers that died when Luke Skywalker nailed the exhaust ports with proton torpedoes and caused a gigantic artificial moon to explode? I do. That must have sucked. Imagine you’re a stormtrooper taking a relaxing dump in the bathroom or playing cards with your buddies in the barracks when the world around you explodes into flames. And then you get tossed into the vacuum of space with zero oxygen, suffocating to death.

Pamela touches the shoulder of the girl she’s listening to. I imagine that smooth hand touching my shoulder. Or maybe my hand. Or better yet, my face. I bet her skin feels like silk. Wouldn’t it be so cool to have a girl touch you like that? Not on accident. That happens a lot in the hallways when you accidentally bump into a girl or step on her shoes. That’s not what I mean. That’s not a special kind of touch.

Pamela Osterhaus. Don’t let that husky-sounding German name fool you. Pamela is thin and shapely with this long, strawberry-blond hair. Her perfume smells like a dryer sheet. You know, the ones your mom would toss in the dryer to prevent static cling? Light and flowery. A scent a girl loves to soak herself with.

Pamela doesn’t know me. We did have two classes together last year, but I don’t think she remembers. But I sure as hell remember her. I couldn’t stop remembering her.

My stomach swims in acid. I can’t make my feet walk over to talk to her. I did plan this out. Knew exactly what I wanted to say. Even memorized it. I went through the words over and over again in my bedroom, talking to a poster of Bat Girl substituting for Pamela.

Don’t laugh. I would ask Bat Girl out in a second if I knew her real identity. I only wish I had Bat Girl’s guts.

“Excuse me.” The pissed-off voice comes from my right. It’s Cave Girl. Her eyes glare from under a curtain of long, straight-black hair. The girl is scary weird and about as friendly as a tiger with rabies.

“You’re blocking my locker,” Cave Girl says. Even the sound of her voice creeps me out.

I move down the hall to give Cave Girl her space and then continue my mental build-up. The minute-hand descends like a hammer, ready to crush my opportunity to bits when the first-hour bell sounds. I can’t say what I want to say with Pamela’s friends still hanging around. It’s intimidating enough saying them in front of Pamela. I could wait for a better time.

No, I’ll chicken out. If I don’t do it now, I’ll be thinking about it all damn day and — screw it. I’m doing this.

But not with her friends there.

Would you guys please leave? I’m dying here.

The bell sounds again. Kids start heading for first-hour classes. I should be heading to my class now. But I wait.

This will kill me if I don’t…

Pamela’s friends leave for class. My beautiful target selects a book from her locker and slips it inside her backpack. She slams her locker shut with a metallic clunk and turns back around to look up into my eyes.