No Longer Fair To You Chapter 04
The milk was just the beginning.
When we sat down to watch TV that evening, I didn’t plant myself perfectly in the middle of the couch like I usually did.
Instead, I sat closer to Anderson, keeping a clear physical distance from Clayton.
I stopped wishing Clayton a good morning. I saved my warm smiles entirely for Anderson.
Whenever I needed help understanding something, I went straight to him.
At parties, I only linked arms with Anderson. My preference was obvious even at dinner—out of ten shrimp, I’d serve eight to Anderson.
I was anxious at first.
Breaking my long-standing habit of treating them exactly the same made me nervous, but I quickly realized the shift wasn’t as bad as I’d feared.
Even though Anderson was naturally reserved, he never made me feel stupid.
Whenever I sat next to him, he would casually catch my wrist and ask if I wanted a snack.
When I said good morning, he always replied right away and asked how I’d slept.
He tasted every dish I cooked and always offered genuine compliments.
And once I stopped forcing my attention on Clayton, everything got better.
I no longer had to deal with being shoved off the couch or ignored when I said hello in the morning.
I didn’t have to walk down the street trailing behind someone who was clearly embarrassed to be seen with me.
I no longer spent hours cooking a meal only to be yelled at and told the food was awful and too salty.
I used Anderson as a shield to avoid conflict, quietly soaking in this rare sense of peace.
However, the atmosphere in the house grew noticeably tense.
Several times, I felt eyes burning into my back.
But whenever I turned around, I only saw Clayton staring blankly at the TV.
Catching my gaze, he would look over and snap, “What are you looking at? Do you want to play a video game with me again?”
In the past, I would have foolishly taken that as an invitation and eagerly rushed over to join him.
This time, though, I just shook my head, refusing to set myself up for another rejection.
Anderson walked over just then. I grabbed my badminton racket and followed him toward the door.
I’d recently gotten into the sport, and we’d been playing for hours at a time.
We barely made it outside when a massive crash echoed from the living room.
I whipped around. Clayton had smashed his game console against the floor, sending plastic pieces scattering everywhere.
He glared at us, his expression dark and totally hostile.
His eyes dropped to my wrist, locking onto where Anderson still had a tight grip on me.
His jaw clenched as he forced a tight, fake smile. “Andy, what’s the point of this?
“You making a habit of playing the good guy? You act like you actually care about this ugly girl.”
How long had it been since he’d called me that?
Right after we were first assigned to each other, Clayton didn’t even try to hide his disgust.
He’d actually gotten into a screaming match with the staff at the Mating Center over it.
Back then, he constantly called me ugly and unattractive.
That seemed to change after the first time I helped them through their rut.
These two military prodigies—usually so cold and arrogant—turned incredibly clingy.
It was the only time I ever got to touch them in their beast forms.
Instead of fierce, violent, carnivorous snow leopards, they acted completely tame, doing nothing but rubbing up against me.
They called me “Babe,” practically shoving their way into my arms for affection, purring the whole time.
They absolutely refused to leave my side, constantly resting their heavy heads in the crook of my shoulder. They’d even physically fight each other just to see who got to sit closer to me.
I’d blush furiously from all the constant contact and the pet names.
Sure, once Clayton’s head cleared, he always looked completely humiliated—he’d just point at me, seething in indignant silence for a long time—but he rarely insulted my looks after that.
A friend once told me that experiencing physical intimacy softens even the most emotionally detached werebeast.
Those moments remained some of my few genuinely good memories.
The truth was, I wasn’t ugly—I was actually pretty attractive.
It was just that Anderson and Clayton were ridiculously good-looking, so next to them I looked kind of plain.
I tried to rationalize it to myself. That was just how Clayton was—younger, used to being the center of attention, and habitually harsh.
I had refused to play video games with him, and it bruised his ego. It made logical sense that he’d lose his temper and go after my looks again.
But despite all that internal rationalizing, I tossed and turned in bed, totally unable to sleep.
Deep down, the whole thing just felt profoundly unfair.
Eventually, I gave up and headed out to the living room for a glass of water.
A faint light spilled in from the balcony, where Anderson and Clayton were standing.
One was leaning against the railing, the other back against the wall.
The glowing embers of their cigarettes flickered faintly in the dark as they talked.
I tucked myself quietly around the corner, careful not to make a sound.
