Addergoole Year 8, after Behind Door Number Three
Porter was being hunted. By a mouse.
He had discounted it at first. The pretty girl just happened to be around a lot. The school only had a hundred or so students. He was bound to run into everyone eventually.
And he could tell by the looks that he wasn’t her first target. The Sixth Cohort Sylvanus gave her a wide berth, and watched her with haunted eyes. He wasn’t the only one, either; there was a Seventh Cohort who followed her around, pretending he wasn’t.
Porter didn’t want to be on a string of guys. He really didn’t want to be on a string of guys to a mouse, no matter how cute she was (and he had to admit, she was sort of cute). But she kept following him. And she had a way of doing it where he wouldn’t notice she was there until they were alone. He’d walk through the halls, thinking he was fine, and then, poof, there was a girl three years ahead of him who looked like prey, smelled like prey…
…and his stupid tiger-brain wanted to pounce. Down, boy he told himself, smiled, tipped his hat, said “ma’am,” and found another way to the suite.
Every day. Every. Damn. Day. And she wasn’t saying anything, even. Just smiling at him. But it was such a knowing smile, such a painfully pushy smile, that he wanted to run and hide.
From a mouse. It was more than he could bear. Or, for that matter, more than he could tiger.
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