After two years of almost monthly visits to the Canadian werewolf community, this weekend would be my last and he didn’t like it. Happily, I hadn’t met a single werewolf that had any type of pull on me. The way I figured it, I’d fulfilled my end of our deal. I’d finished my final exams yesterday, and passed all my classes, of course. I’d opted not to attend my graduation on Saturday. They could mail me my diploma. I’d rather not put this visit off for another week. I wanted to move on. After this weekend, I’d start working to save up what I could before moving on to college. His familiar morning scowl didn’t solely relate to the end of our agreement. Sam and mornings didn’t mesh well. I’d realized that as soon as I’d moved in with him. Once we developed our simple routine, he tolerated mornings better. I woke up first and started a pot of coffee, not my drink of preference in the morning. Sam without his coffee amused me, but it felt slightly cruel to witness. He stumbled and mumbled until he had his caffeine. With his werewolf metabolism, I doubted it really did anything for him, but he drank the pot himself anyway. I, on the other hand, usually grabbed a quick bowl of cereal or oatmeal after an even quicker shower and ran out the door for school, leaving him to his “Elder”
