The Art of Mending Memories

The Art of Mending Memories 32

The Art of Mending Memories

Chapter 32

I stepped out of my car into the brisk morning, shivering as I began to regret wearing only a sweater and jeans. I should have worn my coat.

I breathed out and saw white breath in the air. I was locking my car door when I heard a familiar voice call my name. With a smile I turned around, Aaron jogging up to me in nothing but his usual T-shirt and jeans.

I frowned at him. “Aren’t you cold?”

He stopped right in front of me. “I do have a fur coat, you know.”

“Well, yeah, in your,” I paused thinking of the right phrase to use, “other form.”

Aaron laughed. “Just because it’s not showing doesn’t mean I don’t have it on me. The fur has to come from somewhere, right? I already have it covering me.”

I ogled at him, keeping that bit of information tucked away inside my mind. Come to think of it, few shifters wore layers, unless it was the dead of winter.

I started walking toward the doors, knowing the bell would be ringing a less than a minute. Aaron kept pace with me.

“How was the rest of your weekend, Kaelyn?”

I shrugged. “Full of homework.”

His arm brushed mine. “Ever the student,” he said with a complimentary tone. We walked inside the building.

“College won’t pay for itself.”

“No,” he said quietly, his voice sounding like it was drifting off to another place. “I suppose not.”

“Well, bye,” I said rather awkwardly as I rushed into the math room, the bell ringing right as I sat down in my seat.

Mr. Keith brought attention to the class and told us to pull out our homework. Cassy leaned over to me, “every one’s talking about the date on Saturday,” she whispered knowingly, leaning back in her seat.

“All you wolves do is gossip about pack members,” I replied out of the side of my mouth.

She laughed. “Point taken. But it’s a rather exciting thing, wouldn’t you say?”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever you say,” I mumbled, her giggles echoing my statement.

I noticed the wolves in the hallway after first and second period were giving me different looks, almost like a critical praise; they were dissatisfied with me as a person but happy I was giving in to Aaron, maybe?

Sarella and Chris had similar reactions to Cassy. I sat down and art and Sarella rushed into questions and demanded for details.

“How did it go? Did you enjoy it? You went to the museum, right? Was it nice? Was he a gentleman? C’mon, I need details.”

I stared wide-eyed at her, unable to respond with sounds. My mouth was open and stuttering sounds were coming out before I finally found my voice. “I-it was nice,” I told her, my voice sounding more like a question than a reply.

She frowned. “That’s all? No details?”

I shrugged, not knowing what to say. “We looked at Polking’s work?”

“You are as bad at giving away details as Aaron,” she muttered.

Chris laughed next to her. “We’re glad you thought it was nice,” he told me.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

At that moment Paul slid into the seat next to me. “Good morning everyone,” he greeted. We replied likewise. “How were your weekends?”