FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I'm not quite sure what it is about history class that's just so good at boring me. The schedule shows this week as being entirely review for the exam coming up next Monday - so what does the professor do? He flips back in his notes and starts over with the exact same lecture that we heard at the start of this unit... besides, I have a damn lot more to worry about than history.

The cool surface of the desk when I lower my head down to it helps to soothe my mind. On most Mondays I, like I'm sure most of my other classmates are, am never fully mentally present in class until about... oh, two PM or so, when my last class gets out for the day. Besides, last night I'd stayed up pretty late, and now... well, now I'm paying for it.

Sleepiness has such a hold on me that I hardly caught the "and now we'll split up into pairs so you can compare notes and talk about today's lecture", just like the professor had said last time. He would start out with - "Erica, you're with Mike" - and then go on with - "Steve, you're with John - but I want you two actually talking about history, okay?"... this class, despite taking place in a lecture hall, was still small enough so that hardly anyone shared a name. There were two "Daniel"s, though, and my ears always perked up at hearing it.

The professor would get to the other one first - "Daniel Cedric, you're with Brian" - and then I'd finally be named near the end for whatever reason, as this clearly wasn't in alphabetical order, and I'd be paired up with someone who never came to class... that was perfectly fine, though. I kind of wanted to be left alone today.

"Lukas, you're with Kai. But I don't want any funny business, you hear?"

This was college. The Time Of Discovery And Self-Exploration, right? All of my self-exploration had already been finished by the time I'd finished senior year of high school - or, should I say, by the time I finished in one of the school bathrooms with a rather well-endowed mutt under my tail. It had happened during a performance of the yearly musical; me and him had been hanging out outside of class for a while beforehand, we'd been talking about some things, I may have expressed an interest in a few other things, and... yeah. My mom called me right after he'd hilted in me, right after I'd shot out over the seat of the toilet, and asked me when the musical was over.

To put it simply, though: I'm nineteen years old and I've already learned that the reason you're always told to wait for sex is because - a relationship that starts on one? It doesn't really go so well. In my opinion.

"Daniel Lane, you're with Harley. Zed, today you'll be w-"

I looked up through the space between my arms, on the desk shielding my eyes from the light. The professor had suddenly stopped talking, and now looked somewhere to my right.

"...Yes? Harley? What is it? Also, it's good to see you in class today."

A bright, happy male voice answered him, one that I can't say I've heard too often before: "Yes, sir, uh - who's Daniel Lane? I apologize, but - you must understand if I don't know everyone's name..."

The professor, a lion whose fur might have once been radiant gold, pointed his pencil towards me. "Daniel Lane is the wolf to your left who's supposed to be paying attention and not sleeping."

I raised my paw. "I'm not asleep, sir."

"Keep it that way. Zed, today you're with William..."

Whoever this 'Harley' was, apparently he couldn't wait to start talking about goddamn history. Almost as soon as the professor had answered his question did I hear the shuffle and then clunk of someone standing up out of their seat, followed by footsteps approaching - and then another shuffle and clunk when he pulled out the one directly next to me.

"Ah." That voice sounded considerably more pleasant, smoother and lower, when it wasn't being shouted across a lecture hall. "You don't look like you're a particular fan of history, huh?"

Slight regret at answering the professor pulsed through me, and I drew in a slow breath. Maybe if I didn't respond, he'd think I had fallen asleep. An unkempt, brushy tail flicked against my legs under the desk, startling me - well, with a tail like that, he certainly wasn't a cheetah. I could just barely see sandstorm-yellow fur to my right through the space underneath my arm, but really. I don't care.

"...I'd show up more often," he went on, "but, damn, is it hard to wake up this early for a class. Even for one you enjoy. Right? Hey, y'ever play those fun settlement games - you know, where you have to establish and run a colony or whatever?"

Realizing it was no use, I lifted my head - and looked right into a pair of the brightest green eyes I'd ever seen. They almost looked out-of-place in muzzle, fur slate-grey dusted all over with the same sandy yellow along his arm; he wore a slim-fitting black shirt bearing some band logo I couldn't read, at the collar of which the scruff of his neckfur turned to a deeper soil-brown. From a distance he might be mistaken for a wolf; with him right here not even a foot away from me, though, I could tell he was a coyote. Taller ears, slimmer build, thinner muzzle. He looked like he could be a slightly underfed soccer player. "So you're Harley?"

"Yep!" His triangular ears perked up, and he extended a paw. "And, no, my last name is neither Davidson nor Quinn. Ha-ha, that's funny, I haven't heard that one before. You're Daniel?"

Black fingerpads, long claws... firm, warm grip. He shook decisively and then let go, leaving an odd tingling feeling in my paw. Sometimes when I was a pup, other kids would call us wolves coyotes in attempts to insult us. Didn't really bother us too much - I have a half-sister who's half coyote. "Yeah. Have been all my life."

"Hah."

"Ah, cool. Cool, cool..." He nodded and half-slouched over onto one arm. "So. You wanna talk about history, or...?"

I lowered my head back down to my arms. Just like last time, the professor had ended his lecture a little late so that only two minutes remained in the class period. You could easily tell how close a class was to ending by seeing how often the students checked their phones for the time. Part of me wanted to carry on what little conversation we had, to continue talking to him, but... another part of me just wanted to not worry about socialization. "Mostly I just wanna go back to sleep."

"You an' me both, man. You an' me both. But - I really do need to start studying more, and I've already missed most of the class, so... d'ya think you could give me your number?"

This time when I lifted my head, he grinned at me with the brightest smile I'd ever seen. Whiskers and ears raised, lips pulled back, sharp fangs glistening like his sharp eyes. In one paw he held his phone out to me, a fairly small (by today's standards) smartphone in a black plastic case. He had already opened it up to the "New Contact" screen.

Well, he was cute...

"Yeah," I said, gently taking it from him. His fingers brushed against mine as I did so, and then again when I handed it back - each time sending a little electric jolt through my body, something that almost pushed me to say 'oh, sorry', but not quite..."Sure. Can't promise I'll be much of a help, though."

"Well, hey, something's better than nothing, right? - what's your last name? Lee?"

"Lane."

"...Lane. Alright. Got it, thanks. And, with that..." He stood up out of his seat, to a height that looked as if he would tower a full four inches above me. Not only that, but I was right about his build: he did look like he could be a slightly underfed soccer play. Slim arms, just barely ridged with taut muscle - and his shirt was tight enough to show the faint outline of half-defined pecs. Lord, my aunt used to say in jest, strike me down now, for I'm about to commit a hell of a sin. "I think I'll be going."

I straightened up in my seat, ears perked. Call it silly, but for a guy - a cute one - to ask me my number within fifteen sentences of meeting me... besides, there was just something in the way he spoke, something in how he looked at me. Straight boys are hardly ever that charismatic. Hell, that's how I met William, my current boyfriend: neither of us wanted to do the workouts in gym class, so we just walked around the basketball fields, got to talking, got to sharing stories... fantasies... "What classes do you have next?"

"What time is it?"

"Eleven. Pretty much."

"Ah, crap. And it's Monday? I have math next... ah well. That's a class I actually can't afford to fail. I'll see you around, yeah?"

"-Yeah..." I answered, but he had already started down the aisle. The way he had his bag slung over one shoulder, the way his pants fit on his hips just above his tail, which really was quite fluffy - on his way out of the row of desks, he knocked over the pen of a rather prissy-looking squirrel. She glared at him while leaning down to pick it up.

Goddamn. I don't know if he could tell, but that coyote had already gotten my attention... and I hardly even knew his name.

~ ~ ~

Bzzt.

I glanced down at my phone: 3 unread messages from William.

Today I'd gotten a ride home from classes from one of my friends, who now lounged back on the couch with his own phone held precariously above his muzzle. Usually he hung around for a while, ate some of my food, and watched TV for a bit, and then left, but very rarely he'd stick around longer to play video games in the same room as me.

That's how me and my friends spend our time hanging out. Just... playing video games in each other's presence. I can't complain.

Bzzt. 4 unread messages from William.

...and then there's the mutt who I call my boyfriend. Really, he's not too bad: he just... sometimes shows up at my house unannounced, and then won't leave if I tell him I'm need to study or I'm doing homework - no you're not, he says, and usually he's right, but still. After a long week of classes and having to talk to people, sometimes all I want is to get home and enjoy my alone time.

That makes it sound bad, though, like I don't love him. And that's not true - I do. I really do. Hard not to love someone when they're the closest friend you've had for... what, three, four years? Lost count. Hard not to when he brings me home on Fridays sometimes, and then all we do is climb into bed together and nap; hard not to when he brings over a movie, and I don't want to watch it because that's not how I like to spend my time, but then I end up enjoying it - and he ends up leaning his weight against me and dozes off; hard not to when my bed smells like him after a weekend together, when I can pick up his scent on my clothes and fur, when my mom remarks I like William. He's a nice dog while cooking Sunday's dinner...

Bzzt. 5 unread messages from William.

It's just that he kind of gets on my nerves sometimes.

Getting tired of hearing the repeated vibrations from my phone - my friend had even perked his ears and tilted his muzzle over to give me a questioning look - I picked it up, unlocked it, and read the first one.

Goddammit, this morning my brother took the car without telling me so i had to call one of my friends, and by the time i got to class i was already late, and then i realized that i left my essay at home... so i had to call him back to get it, and when i got back to school the class had already finished, and then i find out the professor isn't taking fucking late work on this assignment

Bzzt. 1 unread message from- and then a number I didn't recognize:

Hey. :) It's Harley. Did you give me the right number, or is this just one of those rejection services that you give to people at bars to get them off your back?

A little unintentionally, I straightened up in my chair and moved forward to allow my tail a little space to stir. Then, I typed out a quick Sorry to Will and started on my response to the coyote.