Two months passed without anything major happening between me and Levi—aside from him getting twice as clingy, of course. Any chance he got, he'd drag me outside to let our wolves out and run together. And if we weren't phasing? He was making out with me at completely random times like we were one of those couples that couldn't breathe unless they were fused at the lips. It was exhausting.
The worst part? Every time I wanted to hang out with Alex, Levi threw a fit. And for no reason.
"I just hate that guy," he told me once, arms crossed like a petulant child. "He hasn't done anything wrong, he's just... terrible."
Helpful.
Naturally, I ignored him and went to ride bikes with Alex to the clinic for my monthly check-in. I was getting better fast—too fast, apparently, because they decided I needed extra tests this time. Wonderful.
The doctor eventually stepped out, holding a clipboard and a suspiciously cheerful expression. "Conan Moss?"
