My inner Omega is doing the worm.
He towers over both me and Ivan in his black pants, sky blue shirt, and long white coat.
I gape at him like an idiot, my attention falling to the stethoscope that hangs around his neck, my face burning.
But his attention quickly goes from me to Ivan.
“Everything okay in here?” Logan asks him, while I stand there gawking. Logan turns back to me, his brow furrowed, while Ivan looks at my phone.
“Is this what you were worried about?” Ivan asks me. “With Alvin?”
“He just started pawing at his eye, and now he won’t stop squinting,” I say, the worry creeping back up. Logan peers over at my phone screen, his expression neutral.
“How long ago did this start?” he asks me, keeping his eyes on my phone and not bothering with any introductions.
“Like fifteen minutes ago,” I say, shame making my throat tighten. I realize how ridiculous I sound as soon as I say it out loud, but that doesn’t stop the panic.
But Ivan, being used to my urgency, simply quirks his lip. “Probably a piece of fur in it. There’s no gunk or anything? Was it super watery?”
I shake my head. “No, it just started, and I ran here.”
Logan finally turns his attention to me, his warm brown eyes assessing me. “Did you have an appointment?”
“Oh, no,” I say, right as Ivan says, “it’s fine. She works next door.”
“I mean, obviously the cat’s not here,” I add, waving my hand. “He’s at the rescue. That’s Alvin.”
“I met him earlier,” Logan confirms, his voice neutral. He looks to Ivan. “Don’t we have an appointment right now--”
“I’m Maeve, by the way,” I interrupt him, grinning widely. “It’s nice to meet you. Ivan has told me a lot of great things about you.”
The atmosphere has turned awkward, and I can’t tell exactly why.
Either Logan has the people skills of a turtle, or I’ve missed the mark entirely and have forgotten how to have a normal conversation.
“Hello,” he replies, not looking at me, only at Ivan. “Well, we have cats to look at, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to get to our next appointment.”
What the hell?
Ivan looks sheepish. “Yeah. Sorry Maeve, we’re slammed.”
“Of course! Save all the kitties,” I add brightly. “I just had that quick question about Alvin.”
“Yeah, Maeve,” Ivan chuckles. “No brain tumor, I don’t think.”
Now, it’s my turn to feel sheepish.
Logan turns sharply to me, his eyes narrowed. “Brain tumor?” he repeats. “Is there any other reason besides the mild squint that you would think that?”
“Uh…no,” I laugh awkwardly, my stomach sinking. “I just looked it up online?—”
“Well, that’s your first mistake. Looking things up online is never helpful.”
I blink.
Ivan looks between Logan and me, shifting uncomfortably.
“Right,” I say slowly, hoping my face doesn’t look as flushed as it feels. “My mistake.”
