Hunt
I stare at the cracked screen of my phone, waiting. It hasn’t changed throughout any of the last thousand times I've checked it, but that doesn’t stop me. Three days. I turn eighteen in three days, and I can’t get the woman (and she is a woman, holy s**t, is she ever a woman) who I’m pretty sure is my mate (she has to be my mate, there’s no other explanation, unless I have totally lost my goddamn marbles) to respond to my f*****g texts (believe me, I’ve checked, at least a thousand times).
I pace back and forth along the bank of the river, rereading.
Hey, it’s me again, I’d said, five days ago. Then added, Sam. In case she forgot.
Can we talk? me again, four days.
Let me explain, still me, obviously, three days ago.
Lily, I had tried, day before yesterday. Then, Lilliana, just t
