“He does that. Nineteen pounds of cat, one gram of sound.”
Damien squeaks again, louder this time, and then turns, climbs up my torso, and drops his full weight directly onto my chest. My lungs compress. My laptop slides sideways. I grab it with one hand while the other instinctively goes to Damien’s back, and he settles himself with his face inches from mine, gold eyes boring into me, one massive paw resting on my collarbone.
“Oh,” I wheeze. “He’s, um. He’s very…”
“Heavy?”
“I was going to sayaffectionate.”
“That’s generous, considering he’s sitting on your lungs and admiring you.”
Damien purrs. The vibration travels through my entire rib cage, and I can feel it in my teeth.
“Is he always this forward with strangers?” I ask, stroking behind his ears. He tilts his head into my hand, and the purr intensifies to a decibel level that suggests mechanical failure.
Brody watches this with his chin still on his arms, and his expression shifts to amused disbelief. “He hates strangers. He once ignored my delivery guy for six months. Wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t acknowledge that he existed. The man brought treats every single time, and Damien acted as if he were a piece of furniture that had learned to speak.”
“So I’m special.”
“Apparently.”
I glance over at Brody, who’s studying me, then Damien places his paw directly on my lips.
I make a muffled sound against the paw pad, and Brody bursts out laughing, the full-body version I’ve heard through the window, loud and real and contagious. Damien keeps his paw exactly where it is, staring at me with the steady concentration of a creature who has decided I was talking too much and has taken corrective action.
“It means you’ve been given an audience and he’s decided it’s his turn to speak.”
I gently move the paw. Damien puts it back.
“Okay,” I say into his fur. “I hear you. You have the floor.”
Damien chirps, removes his paw, and immediately headbutts my chin. The force of it pushes my glasses up my forehead, and I catch them with one hand, trying not to die of the fact that Brody is ten feet away, watching me get dominated by his cat, while wearing the shortest shorts I own.
“Careful,” Brody says, and his voice dips lower. “He’s easy to fall in love with.”
My stomach flips. “Oh, I can see that. He’s a real charmer.”
“Runs in the household.”
“Does it?”
“Mm-hmm.”
I’m blushing, heat climbing up my neck, which is mortifying, and Damien is still on my chest, meaning I can’t exactly flee the scene with any dignity. Brody doesn’t look away either. He stares with an ease that tells me he’s done this before, locked onto someone and let the silence do the work, and I’m not equipped for it. I’m made for panicking behind blinds. This is an entirely different sport.
“So,” I say, desperate for a subject change that doesn’t involve falling in love with anyone or anything. “Welcome to the neighborhood. I realize that’s about two weeks late.”
“I was starting to wonder if you existed.”
“I exist. I’m just… indoors a lot.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“I was going to bring you a welcome cake, but then I realized you’ve already got more than enough baked goods.”
He stares at me, then the grin sharpens, and I’m practically swooning. What’s wrong with me?
“You’ve been watching me work on my videos.”
