Some of the subjects were interesting. Woman’s literature fascinated me. It wasn’t the context but the concept. A whole class just about women’s books and the impact they had on the world. Did they have a men’s literature?

Monday, when she grabbed her keys, I jumped to follow her to the door.

“Your license only wins you so much freedom. Dogs aren’t allowed on campus and definitely not in the classroom.”

I growled. There was no way she was going to that place full of men without me.

“Clay, I’m putting up with you in my house and on my bed. Don’t push this.”

Her tone and scent had me backing off. I wouldn’t push. A ride in the car would have been convenient, but I could just as easily follow her on foot.

I jumped onto the couch with a sigh and flopped down. I now understood why humans hated Mondays. The campus had been chaos, and following Gabby had been impossible. Security had chased me off the grounds, then chased me again when I returned.

I needed clothes, I needed to blend, and I needed to shower before Gabby came home, which could be any time. Her schedule remained a mystery to me. Lifting my head, I glanced out the window. I hadn’t wanted to leave the campus yet, but wasn’t given a choice. The last security guard had fired a pellet gun at me.

A familiar car pulled into the driveway, and I huffed a sigh. I’d forgotten about Rachel. So much for a shower.

“Clay,” she called as soon as she opened the door.

I stood and jogged to her just so she wouldn’t keep yelling.

“Hey, bud! Look what I brought you.”

She opened her foam container and showed me a half-eaten burger. It almost made up for her attempt to get Gabby to go out with her. She set it on the floor, and I wolfed it down. The bacon on the burger made me want to groan. I hadn’t eaten anything since leaving the house.

“You sure are hungry.” She glanced at the dish. “Don’t you like your food?”

Nope, but I’d have to remember to get rid of it every now and again so Rachel wouldn’t worry about it.

“I wonder when Gabby’s coming home...” She stepped to the fridge and lifted the top few layers of paper held to the side by a magnetic clip.

“Today’s a late one.”

As I swallowed the last bite, I realized she was looking at Gabby’s schedule. Rachel glanced at me.

“Stay home and hang out with you or go out?”

Go out. Go out.

“What do you think?”

I turned my back to her, trotted to Gabby’s room, and hopped up on the end of the bed, hopefully making it clear I didn’t want to hang out with Rachel.

She peeked into the room and grinned at me. “I don’t get why you like her so much. She doesn’t feed you good stuff like I do. Better remember that.”

She didn’t seem mad or offended by my preference. Only amused. She went to her room, and I listened to her change. The woman rarely closed her door.

A few minutes later, I heard her leave her room and walk to the kitchen.

“Clay. Come on, Clay. Time to go out.”

The indignities I suffered. I hopped off the bed and dutifully went outside. She watched me through the door this time. Who watched like that? I strode behind the shed, stood there for a suitable amount of time, then returned to the yard. She opened the door as soon as she saw me.

“You’re such a good boy,” she said, scratching my head. “I’ll bring you a treat when I come home.”

I wouldn’t lie to myself. The food treats tempted me.

As soon as her car pulled out of the driveway, I shifted to my skin and looked at Gabby’s schedule. She wouldn’t be home for a while yet.

With a sigh, I went to take a quick shower, then waited for her on the couch.

Just before I grew bored enough to start chewing on the table legs, I heard her car in the driveway. I hopped off the couch and hurried to the back door. Seeing her again made my chest ache. How could I miss someone I didn’t understand or know?

She didn’t acknowledge me when she stepped inside. She let her bag drop to the floor with a thump and moved to the fridge.

“I’m starving.” She wasn’t talking to me, but herself.

I stayed out of her way as she moved about, grabbing what she needed to make two sandwiches. She absently handed me one when she finished and stuck hers in her mouth, freeing her hands so she could carry her bag to her room. I quickly chomped my food down before she made it to the arch and followed her. Did she even realize I was here?

I wasn’t expecting her to feel the way I did, but her complete indifference hurt.

In her room, she tiredly kicked off her shoes and set her bag on the mattress. She took a bite of her sandwich with one hand and started to read one of her books. Her gaze didn’t leave the pages as she eased onto the bed and curled her legs under her, getting comfortable.

Hopping up on the bed, I joined her. She didn’t flinch at all as I curled up beside her. In fact, she didn’t do anything but read for a long time.

Eventually, she started to yawn.

“Come on, Clay. Out. I need to change.” A yawn punctuated her request.

Suppressing a sigh, I hopped off the bed and left the room. When she opened the door again, I waited until I heard her get into bed before joining her. The soft rhythm of her breathing changed within minutes, letting me know she slept.

The next day followed the same routine. She woke, kicked me out, and left for class. I followed her to campus to make sure the piece of junk car didn’t break down on the way, then went home to wait for her.

I was beginning to see why other people had made decisions for her. Her choice to go to college didn’t seem like a smart one. It was boring as hell. But, I was near her, and if reading all the time made her happy...I sighed. I would just need to accept it.

Though I would have rather held her attention, I didn’t mind watching her read. Observing her, I began to learn her body language. When she read something that confused her, she chewed her lip. When she read something interesting, she wrote it down. When she doubted what she read, she pulled out another book to see what that said. She often became so engrossed she forgot to drink anything at night; and she always studied until she yawned for the third time.

My time alone in the house was much harder to endure. I chafed at the situation, wishing I knew what to do to integrate myself into her life. Desperation drove me to pick up one of her textbooks. Maybe understanding what she read would give me insight into why she read it and her life. Instead, I quickly discovered why she went to bed after the third yawn.

Once I grew tired, the words tended to swim around in my head and made very little sense. I managed two chapters of biology before I closed that book and moved on to a different one. I picked at random from her dresser.

When she came home that night, she tossed me a sandwich, like she had the night before, and went to her room. She seemed to notice I’d moved her books around. I watched her study them, wondering if I’d upset her. She didn’t say anything, though, just picked one up and started reading.

The next day she didn’t come home with her usual distracted air.

“Hey, Clay,” she called as she pushed through the door.

I stood abruptly from my normal waiting spot near the stove, wondering why she needed me. The movement drew her attention, and she looked at me with a slight smile on her face. My heart leapt at the sight. Was she actually happy to see me?

“Brought you something,” she said.

The fact that she’d thought of me while she was out made me want to grin. My patience was paying off. I was sure of it.

Then, she pulled three books from her bag and set them on the table. Books? She’d brought me books? Of course she did. She read constantly, and had given me something that meant a great deal to her.