Sylvester cast his line out into the stream, hoping the calming sounds of the river would help soothe his rattled nerves. The cool water misted his face, providing relief from the hot sun, and he shifted uncomfortably in his rubber waders, enjoying the squish of mud under his boots. He was determined to enjoy the little things. It had been a few months since his fling--he hated the word--with Marc had ended, but the wound somehow felt just as raw as the moment he’d left Marc's bed.
It certainly didn’t help that Marc was at the shifter games every week now. Lola had modified the games into a tournament-style event with eliminations and bigger prizes. As the pool of competitors shrunk, week after week, Sylvester found it that much harder to ignore his top competitor for first place. Marc wa
