Page 105 of Conner's Luna

Unless I use Conner's connections to somehow keep the CH scholarship. I don't know if it's transferable between universities. What a terrible thing to do. Even if he is - or was - using me to make Lydia jealous.

I hate her.

"Bailey Madison Washington," Dad says sternly. "What did I just say?"

I don't know why he asks me that question. He always does and it always ends the same way. "The cost of raising a child today is close to a million dollars for the first eighteen years," I repeat dutifully. I have a good memory even when I'm not fully paying attention. He knows this.

Dad scowls. "That's cheating," he points out. Then, because he's my dad and not a university professor trying to catch me daydreaming, he continues his lecture. "This boy you're dating is how old?"

"Conner is twenty-two years old," I say moodily. And, I’m not dating him, so there.

Dad scoffs. "A baby."

I roll my eyes. "He's graduated from college."

"Does he have a job? A house?"

I squirm a little. "He works for the family business?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"I'm not sure what he does," I admit. "He's working on some more credits for some other degree. So I guess he hasn't graduated college yet."

"What degree?" Dad asks. He waits for me to say 'Business.' Not that there's anything wrong with a Business Degree, but don't all the trust-fund boys major in Business?

"Statistics," I say proudly.

Dad pauses. "No job yet, though?"

He already knows all of this. He just spoke with Papa Smurf for about an hour. It was all Conner-is-this and he's-got-a-good-head-on-his-shoulders and Bailey-is such-an-amazing-girl. (The last one is true, of course.)

Conner's got a head on his shoulders, alright. And it's big and furry with canines over three centimeters long. He was handsome and sweet, the wolf. I can't reconcile that the wolf is Conner. Or is Conner the wolf?

I spin my phone in my hands. I was only able to sneak away from the breakfast table for a few minutes to take Conner's call. I want so badly to write all of my questions down. I can't concentrate on anything else. The existence of wolf-people is going to drive me batty; I just know it.

"Bailey, you look a little peakish," Dad says suddenly.

I look up to see him eyeing me worriedly. I try to give him a smile, but I know it falls flat when his concern deepens.

"I'm going to... just go read, I guess," I tell him.

He nods, smiling, and I stand up. I take a few steps away from the couch when something occurs to me suddenly. "Dad?"

"Yeah, peanut-butter?"

"Can I borrow your laptop? My MacBook is broken again."

"Sure, Bailey. My personal one is upstairs," he says, looking even more worried. I force a smile, my facial muscles protesting the happiness before I leave.

Upstairs, I grab Dad's laptop and take it to my room. I make sure I'm comfy, clean, and ready to sit for hours just web-sleuthing.

Hours later, my phone dings with another incoming text. All of my wolf-boys have been periodically sending me messages all day. I want, badly, to send some back. Questions, most about all of my observations about wolf-people and what I've been reading about online.

I can't ask anything through a text, of course. Putting it in writing would be stupid. I also can't ask them in person, because that would require that I leave my hidey-hole under the covers of my bed and rejoin reality.

"Bailey?" Dad knocks quietly on my bedroom door. "It's supper time, Peanut."

"I'll be down in a minute," I croak back. I quickly erase my search history of the wolf-people, leaving behind the other sites I periodically went to just to ensure that Dad doesn't suspect anything.

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