Shift by Jen Rose

“You’re the worst vegetarian ever.” She sipped red wine with a smirk, her eyes following the waiter that carried their order away. A salad for her. Steak for him.
“People change. The iron’s good for me.”
“Then maybe you should be drinking this.”
His blood wasn’t the only thing anemic. Every question, comment, sly grin or teasing glance from his dinner companion dragged only weak replies from him. She’d always left him speechless, but this was different, like meeting her all over again.
He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to study her, watch for a telling twitch, a darkening of the eyes… anything to confirm the truth.
Her glass trembled as she set it on the table. She dipped her head forward, dark, unkempt curls masking her expression.
“So…” He tried to start a conversation. The words braced themselves.
“So?” She raised an eyebrow, but her face was unreadable.
He huffed, closed his eyes, laughed a little. “This is awkward.”
“Tell me about it.”
He turned and studied a distant table, finally taking a sip of his own drink.
“Oh, I get it now.”
He looked her way again. Her brown eyes were emphatic, dark, but sparkling. Almost comforting.
“What?”
She leaned forward and grinned. “You got that steak to distract me if I shift and try to rip your head off?”
“Um…”
She leaned back, laughed, and was her old self again. “Good idea.”
He smiled. Werewolf or not, the sound of her laugh made the danger worthwhile.

Return to This Week’s Flash