Anders Larzelere's PoV:

Chapter 15 - "You're So Whipped, Anders."

The morning passes by in a blur as we have the time of our lives, frustrating our dance instructor with our stupid antics as he yells at us to cooperate and stop acting like "fücking kids".

Not.

The gruesome two hour per day class arranged by the craziest chick on the planet — and the cutest, and the loveliest, and the - SHUT UP, ANDERS — the one and only Alarice had soon proven to be my most hated part of the day, and it hadn't even been 20 minutes into the class back then.

The harsh faced, dark-haired Brazilian man in his late forties, or perhaps early fifties, who knew, was not whom I had expected to be the one coaching us. And he'd gripped my hand in a handshake so strong I thought I might end up with a few cracked fingers, his face outlined with not a wrinkle looking like it had ever smiled once in his life, Mr. Audi was all about business.

And what a fucking awesome business it was.

With that superb first impression, the man had proceeded to tell us to get into position, and when both of us had looked at him cluelessly — thank God, Alarice was not some pro ball dancer, which I wouldn't be surprised if she was, because the girl was soon making me feel like not a thing was out of her reach — the instructor had rolled his eyes with such disdain, as if we were some illiterate morons who couldn't spell the freaking alphabets. I had immediately started to dislike him.

I was finding that a lot of things here are making me develop negative feelings that I'm not accustomed to, seeing as I've been a quite, yes-man almost all my life.

Add the fact that he was a dance instructor, and my dislike just rose up a few more notches, because I hated dancing with a passion.

Oh, and that was because I can't dance for shit.

Soon, the man had realized that nothing was gonna be easy about training us, and then he'd proceeded to make me feel like a worthless piece of scum as he barked orders at us and forced some basic dance movements into my thick head.

Trust me when I say he's worse than my coach back in college.

With a resigned sigh, I flop back on the couch the moment the man leaves, wiping my forehead with my fingers and surprised to that they were damp with perspiration.

Damn, the man had made him break into a frigging sweat.

Alarice plopped down next to me, sitting sideways on the couch, facing me as she leans against the side with one leg tucked under her thigh. Her elbow comes to rest on the top of the couch, cradling her head as she grins at me, arching a curious brow. "I didn't realize that dancing was that tiring," She drawls, her eyes roaming over my misty forehead, unable to stop that laugh trying to break free.

"It's not." I say petulantly, refusing to meet her eyes.

Silence stretches between us, and her unasked "Then, what?" hangs heavily in the air, making me roll my eyes and give in.

"He just reminds me a lot of my uncle in my early childhood." I start, pausing to choose my words carefully, "He was never mean or anything, just a man who liked order and discipline. He was the one who taught me almost everything I know in life. I think you might've met him in his wedding a while back, if you'd attended it that is. I couldn't make it due the arrangements being last minute."

"Oh yeah, Alp—I mean, Mr. McIntire's wedding. I did attend that one. Explains why I never met you." Alarice nods, smiling wide as she stumbles over her words yet again, but I'm just too tired to analyze it.

I nod, feeling the quite, almost companionable silence, comforting.

"Hey, I know your Dad's last name was McIntire too, but why's yours Larzelere?" She asks all of a sudden, and the question makes my hackles raise, involuntarily stiffening up my entire body. Her sharp eyes notice the change, and before she could comment on it, I rush to explain in a curt reply, "I chose to stick with my Mom's maiden name."

The austere tone of my words communicate the message clearly — don't prod.

She drops it like I'd hoped, but her eyes let me know that she'd tucked it away safely — Later, they say, with conviction clear in them.

I resist the urge to tell her off, to announce that it was none of her business, deciding it wasn't worth the hassle of fighting with her and putting that wounded look on her face.

I'll deal with it when she brings it up again.

"I'm gonna go grab a drink," I lie, standing up and making a show of straightening my clothes — not in a perverted way, of course — and hurry to get out of the suffocating room, heading for the main door to get some fresh air.

* * *

After about thirty minutes, I find myself walking along one of the thin, waning trails leading into the thick of the trees, strangely fascinated by the nature and the purity of this place. I'd always known that all the towns close to my uncle's place were all very rainy, and almost always green around the year, but I'd never appreciated the beauty of it all. If I hadn't known better, I might've thought that this place was somewhere in Brazil, in the centre of the Amazon.

As I walk with my head down and gaze rooted to the floor, careful not to trip over any rock or uneven surface lining the path, my eyes fall on something strange, and it takes a moment for my slow brain to catch up on what it actually is. And when it finally does, my stomach drops to my feet as breathing suddenly feels like a chore.

A paw print.

That's what it is.

And not just some chihuahua or sheepdog paw print, more like a wolf the size of a mountain lion's paw print.

I gulp.

The trail I'd chosen looked to be smooth and covered in fine soil, making it an obvious choice to me since I hadn't wanted to break my neck on a nasty fall, and now, the fineness of the soil just exaggeratedly displays the paw print in explicit detail, and I can almost envision a black wolf's hind-legs leaving those prints as it leaps in the air, almost floating at the speed it's running, maybe an hour or two ago, because the way the sand looked to be preserving the paw print made it look very fresh.

I try to be brave for a second and take a step further, but suddenly, the woods that had looked mesmerizing and refreshingly fresh, look haunting and filled with dangers that might sneak up unbeknownst to you and claw your eyes any moment. Despite it being around noon, close to the brightest part of the day, I couldn't shake the thoughts about wild animals and my bloody body lying on this same place, sans the head, and I pivot on my heel, making my way back to the mansion.

Once civilization comes into view, I almost sigh in relief, my steps turning unhurried and leisurely on their own. I pocket my hands as I whistle under my breath, looking and acting like the poster child for a guy enjoying a laid-back day, with nothing to do except enjoy the breeze and having a good time.

Soon, too soon in my opinion, the mansion comes into view, and my conflicting emotions warring with themselves at the thought of going back weren't in the least bit helpful. While on one hand, I hated the thought of being in this place, as a captive with no freedom — I know the freedom I'm given is controlled, I'm not stupid — or will to do what I please, on the other hand, some sick part of me longed to see the girl who's the root cause of all this, having missed her in the short time I'd been away. I roll my eyes at my idiocy, of having developed this crush-like feelings for the one who was ready to do anything to win a stupid competition, even going to lengths people would consider bonkers, but no matter what I tell myself, I just can't push the thought away.

The heart wants, what it wants, my ever-so-helpful conscience supplies, and I choke on a round of laughter at that as I step into the main door, rubbing the soles of my shoes on the mat there so that I don't dirty the carpet on the living room too much with the lingering forest soil on it.

"What's so amusing?" Kade asks as he turns his head from the couch, where he seems to be permanently affixed if you ask me, cocking an amused brow as he shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

My laughter sobers up as I open my mouth to speak, just in time for Alarice to peek her head from the kitchen, looking so dazzling with a ready smile for me that it made my insides twist in a funny manner, making me want to kick the ever-loving hell out of myself.

"I saw a wolf's paw-print on the trail east of the house," I say instead, hopefully not revealing that I'd just blurted out something completely unrelated to what I'd actually been thinking.

"Oh," Alarice replies at the same time Kade asks, "And that makes you laugh, how?" with an impassive look, turning his focus back to the movie playing on the huge flat screen, that looks about as interesting as a rock on the floor with the amount of gore and head-smashing in it.

"I just told you that I think there might be frigging wolves, wolves larger than mountain lions or hell, even Aslan, but you're gonna sit there and ask me why I'm laughing about it?" I query, crossing my arms as I look between Alarice — who has now come out of the kitchen, apron and a large cooking spoon still intact — and her best-friend, finding their reaction completely irrelevant and suspicious.

"Who's Aslan?" Kade asks, and my brows shoot up at his attempt to change the subject, or genuine lack of knowledge towards fantasy films, I don't know. 

My unimpressed silence is enough to let them know that I'm not answering that question. 

"It's because—" Alarice starts at the same time as Kade, who says, "It's nothing—" and they end of interrupting each other, and then glaring at each other.

"We have wolves—"

"There are no freaking wolves—"

Alarice and Kade talk over themselves once again, and this just makes them appear all the more shady.

"Kade here," Alarice begins once again, louder this time to overtake whatever the other man is about to say as she shoots him a poisonous look, "Is just not telling you the truth because he thinks you might be scared. But yes, the truth is, we do have wolves in the woods. But as far as we've been here, we've never had any trouble from them, so we just avoid making a big deal out of it."

"Oh, really?" I mumble, wondering how anyone can just avoid wolves existing somewhere in your backyard.

"Don't look at me like that, I have no reason to lie to you." Alarice assures, looking exasperated as she places her hands on her hips, awaiting my reaction.

Kade coughs from his spot on the couch, snorting uncontrollably, and no matter how much he's trying, it's just so obvious that he's trying to conceal his laughter with that fake coughing of his.

I roll my eyes for the umpteenth time.

"Whatever you say, Alarice." I remark, walking over to the couch, because yes, I have nothing to do, and I've stooped so low that I'm ready to even accept the company of the man on the other sofa, ensconcing myself to it, "I just know that I'm staying away from the woods now on."

She looks stricken by my words, as if the mere prospect of me not liking life-sized wild wolves and finding them scary tore her apart. I thought over what I said, and didn't find anything I might've said that might be offensive.

She's weird.

"I can smell the food burning." Kade says, forcing her to make a move and disappear from my line of vision.

Wonder what she's thinking right now.

Whatever it is, my inner self hated the idea of her being sad. And that just confirmed how much of a loser I am.

You're so whipped, Anders. So, so whipped.

* * * 

THEY SAY ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS.

And with the way I've been with this book, I'm sure no one will believe me when I say that I'm gonna update once a week from now, coz, I've finally got the time and respect for my interest in writing from my parents. 

So, instead of telling, I'm just gonna show that I can update regularly lol.

IF YOU'RE STILL READING THIS BOOK, THEN YOU KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING IN THIS WORLD. 

THANK U LOADS.