“Adora was there too,” I whisper, the darkness creeping back in.
Ria groans and throws her head back, staring at the sky. Then she looks at me, serious now.
“You are fucking obsessed, Polterbitch,” she says, voice flat. “In an unhealthy way. You need to—”
She stops. Eyes scan the dark.
I tense too.
“You hear that?” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I say, already standing.
The sound cuts through the dark again, high-pitched and pitiful. I drop to my knees and turn on the lantern on my phone.
“Ah, shit,” I murmur, reaching under the wood pallet.
When I stand back up, Ria’s watching me with wide eyes.
“Is that—” she whispers.
I glance down at the small ball of black fluff squished against my chest.
“It’s a kitten, Powerpuff,” I say, voice laced with disbelief. “How the fuck did a kitten get all the way here?”
“You’ve clearly been chosen, Polterbitch,” she says, smiling as she strokes the kitten’s head with one finger. “The Cat Distribution System makes no mistakes. Congratulations. You’re owned by a cat now.”
The kitten promptly mewls, like it agrees, and stabs its tiny claws into my hand. Fuck, that stings.
I look down at it. Big, yellow-green eyes stare back at me. The rest is nothing but black fluff.
“I’ll try to find someone to take it,” I groan, looking toward the pallets. “What if I put it back? It must have a mother somewhere.”
“Don’t you dare,” Ria snaps. “The cat is yours now. You either keep it, or find it a good home. Don’t abandon it, it’s too small.”
I glare at her. “You take it,, then.”
“I have too many poisons in my home. And cats are too curious. It’d be dead in a day.” She lifts her chin, challenging me. “What? You too good to take care of a cat? Even when you’re gone, you’ve got a whole club of idiots to feed it and clean up its shit. Don’t be an asshole.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, turning around and walking off.
“Where are you going?” Ria calls, hurrying to keep up.
“I have to feed it something, don’t I?” I say, hissing when the kitten stabs me with its claws again.
I lose Ria somewhere on the way to the kitchen. She said something about getting a new room, wished me good luck with the kitten, and bolted.
I barely take a step through the kitchen door before I freeze. Adora’s here. Fuck. Looking sexy as hell in sinfully short pajama shorts and a shirt that rides up just above her belly button. Leaning against the counter, dipping a tea bag into a mug. Hair wild and messy around her face, cheeks flushed.
A primal urge hits me like a tsunami — to march up to her, throw her over my shoulder, and lock her in my room.
She raises her head slowly. Her eyes land on me. She’s glaring like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Then her gaze drops lower, and the moment she spots the kitten, her eyebrows shoot up.
She sets her mug down, lips parting.
“Is that a cat?” she breathes, eyes locked on the fluffball.
