She still doesn’t answer.
“Okay, no, you’re right, it’s none of my business. I’m sorry for interrupting like that… you can go back to whoever, I’m gonna...” I gesture over my shoulder, backing away, and as I fumble backward, I feel a tug on the stick feather thing I’m still holding.
My head snaps down just as a blur of fur launches itself toward me, clamps its teeth around the ribbon, and yanks with surprising force for something that weighs less than a loaf of bread.
“What the—”
Liv doesn’t say anything for a second. Just watches the madness unfold like she’s been waiting for me to notice.
The tiny grey gremlin circles once around my foot, still holding the feather like a trophy, and then flops dramatically onto the floor as if the performance has taken everything out of him.
My eyes move from the kitten to the bed, where there’s a food bowl, a folded towel they’ve clearly claimed, and a toy mouse with one ear half chewed off.
I look back at Liv, who is entirely unbothered.
“Is that… a cat?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
She nods. “Quite the detective, aren’t we?”
“Why is there a cat in here?”
“Because I adopted a cat today.”
“What? Why? How? When?” My brain can’t seem to pick one question.
She shrugs like it’s obvious. “Have you seen him?”
“Yes. I’ve seen cats before.”
“Yeah, buthim specifically,” she says, stepping aside so I can get a better look as it rolls onto its back and attempts to chew on its own foot. “One eye, attitude problem. No one wanted him. He was alone. I couldn’t just leave him there.”
I blink again, unsure how I got here. I’d almost rather there was a guy in here instead, at least he might not stick around andpee on my bed. “I… ah, I don’t think I’m allowed pets in this rental.”
“He’s very small,” she says, pushing her bottom lip out.
“I’m allergic.”
“No you’re not. I checked with Hudson.”
Of course she did.
Goddamn it, Hudson.
She turns to grab a clip from her dresser and twists her wet hair up like this is still a normal conversation, like I’m not trying to recalibrate everything I thought I understood about what today would look like. Dinner, movie, bed. But no, apparently, I left out the cat part. How naive of me to think I’d come home to my usual apartment.
“You’re lucky it wasn’t the three-legged baby goat I almost brought home,” she adds casually. “Kidding.”
I open my mouth. Then close it. Then stare down at the cat. He’s actually kinda cute, his fur is grey and white swirling together, and he’s insanely fluffy. I’m not sure I’ve ever been a cat person, but… it beats a baby goat, I guess. Wait, am I even okay with this?
“Does he have a name?”
Liv rubs something into her body that smells like summer, and I fight my lungs to inhale deeply. “Well, originally I wanted one of the black kittens, and I’d planned on calling her Wednesday, but they were all reserved.”
I snort an involuntary sound. “And that didn’t deter you at all from not buying a cat?”
“Pfff, no.” She waves her hand around, dismissing all logic. “So, anyway, the lady said that this guy had been brought in last week and no one wanted him because he has one eye, and I burst into tears.” She sniffs, and something twists in my chest at the sight of her looking so longingly at this cat. Part of me wants to offer comfort, the other part knows she’s still in a towel, andthat would end badly. Then the other part is still a lot confused about why I’m suddenly looking at a cat. “Anyway.” She clears her throat and straightens her towel. “Is it too on the nose to call him Nick Fury?”
I stare at her and wrestle with the bubble of laughter that wants to burst free. I clamp my lips together, hiding my response, but she catches it.
