Two small pointy ears, baby whiskers, and a pink nose are the definition of my weakness.
I hold up the tiny striped cat in my hand and pet his head. He rubs himself against my hand and a fuzzy feeling shoots down to the marrow of my bones.
He releases a soft mewl, a cry for affection, and my heart bleeds. “I’m so sorry you lost your mommy, Tiger. I promise to take care of you until you start to wreak havoc around here.”
I found him a few days ago on the side of the road in a box with three other kittens. The pouring rain and probably hunger killed all of them except for this tiny fighter. I hid him in my pocket and brought him to the animal shelter where I volunteer.
Dr. Stephanie was surprised Tiger didn’t meet his siblings’ tragic fate, but I was sure the little baby would survive.
“You’re a fighter, aren’t you?” I speak to him in a child’s voice, trying not to cry at the reminder of what happened to the other kittens.
I did cry at that time. They were so small and helpless and without a mother. I’m commissioning a voodoo doll to curse the heartless monster who threw them to the side of the road.
In the meantime, I’m pledging to protect this baby with my life. Every day, I come to help Dr. Stephanie with all the stray animals we get in the shelter, and when it’s my break time, I play with Tiger.
Cecily volunteers with me—she’s all for humanitarian activities—but she usually comes later, while I have to leave early or else guards would swamp this place.
But oh well, I can just talk to the animals. They’re better friends than people anyway and I’d cut any bitch who tries to hurt them.
I place baby Tiger on my thigh and he tugs on my dress with his claws in his attempt to climb up. “I specifically wore cotton, you little fashion terrorist, so you won’t be able to ruin it like you did the other dress.”
“Are you talking to a hamster?”
My head whips up and I cease breathing.
The last person I expected to see at the shelter is standing in the doorway, or more like blocking it.
For a moment, I think maybe I’m imagining things, like that cryptic dream I had last night in which he glared at me and then disappeared.
Considering how things went down yesterday, I expected Creighton to come after me again—there was just something strange in his gaze, something absolutely nefarious—but I didn’t think it’d be this soon.
“It’s not a hamster, it’s a cat, and his name is Tiger.” I clear my throat. “What are you doing here?”
“Volunteering.”
“Why?”
“Cecily asked me to.”
“And you just listened?”
He doesn’t reply, which is his cue that the conversation is over. But you know what? I’m done trying to impress him or get on his good side. That didn’t work anyway, and I seriously want to cut ties right now, so why the hell is he making it harder?
“I find it hard to believe that you decided to volunteer just because Cecily asked you to.”
“She said you were short on staff, but if that’s not the case, then I can tell Dr. Stephanie you don’t want me around.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
I narrow my eyes and he stares at Tiger, who’s fallen asleep on my lap, curled up in a ball.
He slowly slides his attention from the cat to my face. “What should I help with?”
“Ask Dr. Stephanie.”
“She said to ask you.”
“You can lift the bags of food and litter from the truck outside and put them with the stock.”
He doesn’t make a move to leave, and I desperately need to get out of his vicinity. Surely he knows that he sucks all the air out of the room whenever he’s around.
Creighton might be tall, muscular, and a renowned fighter at REU, but it’s his freezing stare and cold eyes that are intimidating.
“What?” I ask when he remains in place.
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll go check on the animals and finish some paperwork.”
“And then?”
“You’re awfully talkative today.”
His blank expression doesn’t falter. If anything, it’s cemented. “What will you do after you check on the animals?”
I purse my lips, and he regards me with that shimmering intensity again. The one that brims under the surface with the promise of exploding in a supernova of colors.
No, not colors. Probably just gray.
“Don’t make me ask the question again.” His voice deepens, brimming with authority.
And usually, I’d hate it. I’d try to subtly rebel against any form of a command. Not now, though.
This is different.
And I really don’t want to see what happens if he asks again.
“I’ll go back to school,” I let out in a low murmur.
He shoves a hand in his pocket, his jaw clenching.
What is he getting mad about now? I answered his question, didn’t I?
After what seems like forever, Creighton throws a glance at Tiger, who’s still peacefully sleeping on my lap, then heads to the exit.
I release a long breath and hug Tiger to my chest. “What the hell is wrong with him, huh?”
The cat gives me a yawn as an answer and I shake my head before putting him back into his cage.
I get busy with work and manage to ignore the nagging emotion scratching at a corner of my heart.
After I finish some paperwork, I stretch my arms and stand up. We’re really short on staff, so if I miss a day, administrative things would pile up to the point of being overwhelming.
I’m about to grab the smoothie I brought with me when a commotion from outside catches my attention.
Which is weird. Besides me, Cecily, and a few others, we barely get any volunteers. If ever. Dr. Stephanie and the two other technicians don’t come out much either.
Hearing noises or conversations is rare.
Unless something happened to one of the animals?
I dash out of the small office and head to the patio leading outside.
Bubbling energy reaches me in waves as the two technicians, Harry and Zoey, and one of the volunteers, Sandy, an American who studies at my brother’s university, stand there with their noses practically glued to the glass.
I inch closer to them and stop when I find the scene that’s put them in a state of spellbound shock.
Outside, Creighton has removed his shirt and is lifting two heavy bags of pet food at a time.
His abs ripple with the effort and sweat glistens over honed muscles. A spider tattoo covers his left side, bleeding into the Adonis-shaped lines on his abs. Usually, spiders would look gruesome, but on him, it’s…mysterious, camouflaging something a lot deeper.
His jeans hang low on his hips, revealing defined V-lines that go down…
Down…
I force my gaze up as Sandy whistles. “If I’d known he’d volunteer, I would’ve come more often. Look at those lickable abs.”
“I know he’s a few years younger than me,” Harry says in a British accent. “But I’d gladly choke on his cock.”
“He looks like he has big dick energy.” Zoey fans herself. “I’d be open to backdoor action any day.”
“You wish, girl.” Sandy nudges her shoulder with hers. “We don’t study at the same college, but I go to watch him fight in the underground ring all the time. He’s like at the top of the food chain. Right under Jesus.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” No clue how I sound detached when a strange fire rattles my bones. “He’s cold, indifferent, has the personality of the North and South Pole combined, and wouldn’t talk more than two sentences, even if the queen personally conversed with him.”
The three of them turn in my direction and Harry rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t need to talk if he has the D. Fucking speaks louder than words, Anni.”
“He’s straight, Harry.” I think.
“So? Let a guy have his crush. Don’t be a spoilsport.”
“Except you keep crushing on straight guys and getting your heart broken, poor lad.” Zoey laughs.
He flips her off and they all focus back on Creighton, whose abs flex as he carries another bag.
The truck is almost empty.
No shit. Did he actually carry all of those bags on his own? I only meant for him to help with some. I didn’t think he’d do it all himself.
A few moments later, he emerges from the building just as the sun peeks from between the clouds.
He uses his hand as a shield and stares up, one of his eyes half closed, the other becoming a glittering, liquid blue.
“Let’s go give him something to drink!” Zoey exclaims. “I reckon he’s thirsty from all that lifting.”
“Not as much as I am.” Sandy laughs.
“I’ll give him my energy drink.” Harry winks and the girls go back to talking about Creighton’s dick.
I slowly slip from their circle, the whole scene leaving a bad taste in my mouth.
It’s not a secret that Creighton is popular without even trying. Ava told me that’s been the case ever since they were kids. Girls have flocked to his silent personality and stellar looks since elementary school.
That’s me. I’m girls. Girls is me.
Or were me. I’m totally over him now.
Totally.
I work for some time, then I make sure the animals have their food. After I kiss Tiger goodbye, I leave the shelter.
The distance to campus is about ten minutes by car, but I prefer to walk the half hour and clear my head.
It helps that the seaside is on the way and I can get lost in its beauty. It’s violent today, considering how the giant waves crash against the rocks.
I try not to think about the scene I left back at the shelter, but it keeps niggling at the edge of my consciousness.
So I pull out my AirPods and put on Tchaikovsky’s third symphony on the highest volume, hoping it’ll be able to drown out the restlessness.
Ten minutes later, I feel more balanced. No surprise there. Only my Tchaikovsky is able to do that.
A presence appears behind me and warmth radiates off my back. I whirl around, my breath catching when my eyes clash with Creighton’s chest—that’s covered with a shirt, thank Tchaikovsky.
I pull out an AirPod and breathe harshly. “You scared me.”
“You didn’t wait so we could go back to campus together.” His low, rich voice vibrates through me as he falls in step beside me.
“We never said we’d go back together.”
“Why else would I ask you what you were doing?”
“I don’t know. Making conversation?”
“I don’t talk without purpose.”
Oh, so that’s what this is all about? I mean, yeah, he doesn’t talk, no matter how much I try to push him, but maybe that’s really because he finds no purpose in speaking for the sake of speaking.
“There was a purpose behind all those questions?”
He nods, his dark lashes lowering like a prison against ocean eyes.
“And what was it?” I pull out my second AirPod and place them back in their case, then throw them in my bag.
“Don’t ask Bran to be your fake boyfriend.”
My hand pauses on the zipper before I slowly close it, and my steps falter until I fall behind. My face feels frozen as I stare up at him. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Yeah, I did. Which brings on the question: what makes you think you have the right to tell me what to do?”
He comes to an abrupt halt and I crash against him before I jump back. When he spins around and stares down at me, his face has tightened and his hand is in his pocket again.
As if he’s stopping it from doing something.
What, I don’t know.
“I won’t repeat myself another time.”
My breath catches. Just how the hell does he manage to pack so much punch and dominance behind his words?
“Seriously, what do you want from me, Creighton? You pushed me away, didn’t you?”
“And you pushed back.”
“What?” When he remains silent, I insist, “I did no such thing. I put distance between us as you so eloquently instructed. I don’t even text you anymore. This isn’t how it’s supposed to work.”
“This?”
“Scaring me away, then talking to me and volunteering at the shelter I go to. Is this like a game of push and pull or something?”
“Were you scared away?”
“Wasn’t I supposed to be?”
“You were, but I’m surprised it took that little to scare you.”
“Yeah, well, pain frightens me.”
His eyes shine with something similar to…excitement.
And that right there scares the bejesus out of me. It’s not normal excitement like the type I get whenever I go shopping or when I practice ballet. It’s nothing that innocent or harmless.
That look in his eyes is downright demented.
Is he supposed to be thrilled at the prospect of frightening someone?
“Don’t ask Bran or anyone else to be your fake boyfriend,” he repeats, with an edge this time.
“And if I refuse to follow your demands, which are super illogical, by the way?”
He steps closer until his chest nearly brushes against mine and grabs my jaw with his thumb and forefinger, imprisoning me in place. “Then you’ll be acquainted with the pain you’re so scared of.”
