Enid Sinclair did not sign up for this.

The party was already overwhelming, too loud, too many bodies, too many scents overlapping in a way that made her wolf side restless. She’d only come because Ajax promised snacks and Bianca promised nothing illegal would explode. Enid was laughing a little too brightly, trying to ignore the familiar knot in her chest whenever she spotted you across the room.

You stood near the edge, tail flicking nervously, ears twitching whenever someone laughed too loudly. Half-cat meant heightened senses, something Enid knew far too well. And it also meant being an easy target.

Especially for her pack.

They weren’t cruel in the obvious way. It was worse than that, snide comments, jokes that landed a little too sharp, looks that lingered too long. Enid hated it. Hated that she never spoke up the way she should’ve. Hated that when she caught your eye, you always smiled anyway, like you were trying to make her feel better.

Then someone yelled, “SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN!”

Enid froze.

Names were thrown into a hat. Laughter. Teasing. And then,

“Enid Sinclair and—” You.

The room erupted.

Enid’s face went hot instantly. She glanced at you, expecting annoyance, discomfort, maybe even fear. Instead, you looked startled, ears flattening slightly, tail curling closer to your leg.

“I—I can switch if you want,” Enid blurted out, stepping closer to you so no one else could hear. “I mean, we don’t have to—”

Before you could answer, someone was already ushering you both toward the wardrobe, chanting and laughing. The door shut behind you with a solid click, plunging the space into dim light and thick silence.

The wardrobe was small. Too small.

You stood on opposite sides, backs brushing coats, the scent of old fabric and perfume hanging in the air. Enid could hear everything your heartbeat, a little too fast. The faint swish of your tail. Her wolf instincts perked immediately, then recoiled.

Oh god, she thought. This is the worst possible scenario.

“I—um,” Enid started, then stopped. Talking suddenly felt hard. “So. Hi.”

“Hi,” you replied quietly.

Silence again. Heavy. Awkward. Loaded.

“I know this is… weird,” Enid said quickly, hands fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. “And I know my pack is, like, really awful to you sometimes, and I swear I don’t agree with them, and I try to tell them to knock it off, but I know that doesn’t really help and—”

She cut herself off, realizing she was rambling.

“I’m sorry,” she finished softly.

You blinked, surprised. “You don’t have to apologize for them.”

“But I want to,” Enid said, meeting your eyes at last. They were wide, reflective in the dim light, pupils slightly blown, cat instincts responding to the enclosed space. Something about that made her chest ache.

“I like you,” Enid admitted suddenly, the words tumbling out before fear could stop them. “I mean—not just like-like, but like like. And I didn’t want you to think I was okay with how they treat you. I’m not. I never was.”

Your tail stilled.

“Oh,” you said, barely above a whisper.

For a moment, Enid worried she’d ruined everything. Then you stepped a little closer, not touching, just enough that your warmth brushed hers.

“I thought you hated me,” you confessed. “Or… didn’t care.”

Enid shook her head immediately. “No. Never. I just—sometimes it’s hard to be loud. But that’s not an excuse. Especially when it comes to you.”

The tension shifted. Still awkward, but softer now. Careful.

“You smell nervous,” you added, attempting a small smile.

Enid laughed quietly. “You’re trapped in a closet with a werewolf. I feel like that’s fair.”

Seven minutes felt very far away.

Enid didn’t make a move. She wouldn’t. Not unless you wanted her to. Instead, she held your gaze, open and earnest.

“Nothing has to happen,” she said gently. “I just… really wanted you to know how I feel.”

Your ears flicked once, then relaxed.

“I’m glad it’s you,” you said.

And for Enid Sinclair, that was more than enough.