As a young boy he excelled in school. He always brought home straight A's on his report card. He was popular, outgoing and funny and he was definitely...not an athlete.Growing up, while the other boys in the neighborhood were outside playing baseball, John was content to stay indoors and watch his mother as she worked on her computer. He was always asking her questions and she never talked down to him, always giving him direct answers. He always had his head buried in books. His mother would give. Our suite had one wall made completely of glass. Beyond that glass wall was the Atlantic Ocean, with the full moon resting atop of it. The balcony door was cracked so we could feel the slight ocean breeze and hear the steady crash of the waves. Everything about this view, this suit, this night.. was perfect. To me, it felt almost like we were in a dream. We were standing together, his arm around my shoulders and my hands holding his, taking in the view and feeling the electric sparks of romance. Funny that already I was thinking him to be my wolf when I’ve only seen him for so little amount of time, but I did. Soon we veered off the trail but he knew that I could not follow him just anywhere and gave me a trail that was large and tall enough for a human. I watched him walk confidently, his sharp ears picking up the sounds of the other animals in the semi-darkness that was this night. Glad I was for the moon or I would have had a hard time keeping him in my vision and walking through. He’d already resisted this line of interrogation from Palo and was not about to rise to it now. ‘So how did you become interested in ballet?’ Marco asked, perhaps sensing a change of topic was necessary. Xavier lifted one shoulder in a little shrug. ‘My mom loved it. She worked at a theatre…’ He waved his hand before Marco got the wrong idea. ‘She wasn’t a dancer, she worked on sets and costumes.’ He paused for a second, lost in the memory then said, ‘When I was little she would take me to.
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