Chapter Nineteen
Charlie
Fated Bond 101
If you had asked me prior to the last five minutes whether or not I’d ever lock picked open someone’s front door, the answer would’ve been a resounding no. I probably would have laughed at the idea of me doing something so criminal. I’m not the breaking and entering type. I don’t even want to leave my apartment most of the time, so why would I want to break into someone else’s?
Well, Kip has turned me into some type of criminal crazy person, because here I am, swinging the freshly lock-picked front door open to his apartment. Thank you for the tutorial, YouTube. After Tyson begrudgingly gave me the address, I drove straight here. And as he claimed, Kip didn’t answer the door, but, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to see me. It’s because he’s not here.
If Kip really wasn’t feeling well after the accident at work this morning, why wouldn’t he be at home resting? And why wouldn’t he have texted me back? I think Tyson is a big fucking liar. He’s hiding something, the sneaky prick. I hate that guy. I hate almost every one, but Ireallyhate Tyson.
When I call out Kip’s name into the seemingly empty apartment, all I hear in response is the sound of meowing coming from a bedroom down the darkened hallway.
I follow the sound of meowing, tracking it to the bedroom on the left side of the hall. As I crack open the door a tiny grey ball of fluff springs towards me before clawing its way up the leg of my jeans.
“Ouch!” I hiss as the kitten’s nails sink through the fabric into my skin. I pry the little fluff ball off my pants, holding it up in front of me with two hands like it’s Simba from ‘The Lion King’. “You must be Nacho.”
The kitten purrs, blinking slowly at me and flexing its tiny paws in front of its body.
“Where’s Kip, little guy? Has he been home today?” I don’t know why I’m talking to a kitten like it's going to respond.
Mrowwww.
Huh, it’s almost like Nacho did respond.
“Meow once for yes you’ve seen him, and stay silent if you haven’t.”
The cat blinks at me, not making a peep.
“Hmmm…if you’re a dog, meow once. If you’re a cat, meow twice.”
Mrow, mrowww.
“That could be coincidence. Okay, how about this one, meow once if Kip saved you from a tree, and meow twice if he adopted you from an animal shelter.”
Mrowwww.
Woah. That’s fucking weird. I study the kitten, scrutinizing it as if he holds the answers to the universe. “Hmmphh…juries still out on you, little guy.” I put Nacho down on Kip’s bed, scratching the top of his head a couple of times, before stepping away to look around.
After a fruitless search, I plunk down next to where Nacho is stretched out on the pink comforter adorning Kip’s bed. Yes, he has a pink comforter. With tiny little pink hearts. It is the exact opposite of what I’d expect to find on his bed. I smile softly as I run my fingers over the fabric. Kip keeps surprising me. I judged him as a jock airhead, but he’s actually very sweet and smart…well, smart in his own way. Maybe not in books or anything like that but he has ahold of his emotional intelligence.
“Well, it’s safe to say that this has been a bust, Nacho. Where could your dad be?”
Mrowwww.
What I would give to speak cat right now.
It’s about an hour later, and I know that I should be leaving Kip’s apartment. Tyson will probably be home soon, and I don’t have the energy to deal with him again today. I’ve been lying on Kip’s bed, snuggling with Nacho. Nacho, who is curled up against my chest and purring.
“Alright, little friend, I gotta go before Tyson get’s home.”
The kitten hisses at Tyson’s name, his hackles raising.
“You and me both, buddy.” I give him one last scratch under his chin, before hauling myself up from the comfort of Kip’s bed. I like the way it smells, spicy and sweet, like him. I’m so fucked. Since when do I pine? I don’t like people. But I like Kip, and I guess technically Kip isn’t a person anymore. He’s now other, but I’ve only known him as such.
I make sure to fill up Nacho’s food and water before closing the bedroom door behind me and leaving the apartment. I don’t bother trying to lock the door. I mean, is it even possible to un-lock pick a door?
When I step outside into the dusky air, a chill washes over me. But not the kind you get when you’re cold. No, this is something else. Goosebumps erupt over my body, and I feel this odd flaring sensation in my chest. It feels like a tether, tugging on my torso, begging me to follow along.
