“Can I borrow a pencil?” I ask, a small smirk on my lips, deciding to pack on the charm. My hands are spread out on the desk, fighting the urge to touch her—because that would be fucking creepy, and the last thing I want to do is scare this girl off. I think I want her closer.
“Who the hell doesn’t bring a pencil to their first day of school?” bursts out of her, shock on her face as if she hadn’t meant to say that. Her cheeks turn pink under my gaze, and her teeth nibble her lower lip. I have to stop myself from reaching over and tugging it free. Her plump-as-fuck bottom lip reddens, sending a shock through me that goes straight to my dick.
Great, just what I need in the middle of class.
“I forgot,” I admit with a cocky smile still on my face, shrugging. Fuck, I’ve never had trouble getting a girl’s attention, but for some reason she seems immune to my charm. She furrows her brows as she bends forward and grabs a pencil out of her black backpack. She puts it on my desk, and just before she turns around, I add, “I’m Kane.”
“I know,” she says, a soft smile on her face. Embarrassment floods through me, remembering the teacher just introduced me. She goes to turn around again, but fuck, I’ll do anything to keep her attention on me. Apparently, making a fool of myself is first on my list of thingsto try.
“What’s your name?” I ask, needing to know with a sense of urgency I don’t quite understand yet. All I know is that her answer might just be something I’ve been waiting for my whole life. She turns back to me, her face unreadable as she looks me up and down. What I wouldn’t give to be inside her head right now.
She looks at me for a moment as if she’s unsure whether or not she wants to answer. She reaches up and pushes a lock of her long brown hair behind her ear, giving me the most stunning, unobstructed view of her face, and I note a small diamond stud encased in black metal in her nose.
“Avery. My name is Avery,” she says, her voice as sweet as honey, floating through my head again and again.
Five words, that’s all it took for my entire life to change—somehow rearranging the very makeup of atoms, forever altering what made me before to make room for the girl sitting right in front of me.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
CHAPTER FOUR
avery
NOW
Scared to Start – Michael Marcagi
“You’re just a big softy, aren’t you?” I coo as Silver presses her too-thin body against me, covering my clothes in fur and slobber. The malnourished gray American pitbull terrier mix is a recent intake at Second Chances animal shelter, where I’ve been on staff for the past six years.
I started my junior year of high school as a volunteer, working my way up to a full-time position two years ago. I primarily work with the owner, Sharlene, on recent intakes, grooming, paperwork, adoptions and pretty much anything else you can think of. You name it, and I’m sure it’s part of my job description.
Silver was found on the side of the road with her very pregnant belly on display. The visible outline of her ribs when she arrived made my heart ache with the hunger she must have been experiencing. Tears come to my eyes knowing she was most likely dumped, her old worn collared long cut off andtrashed, her coat gleaming from her recent bath. She’s very skittish around people, but after sitting with her for a while and letting her adjust to me, she’s finally found her way into my lap.
Her soft but too skinny head rests on my leg as I stroke behind her ears, the day taking all the energy out of her. I find these slower moments here to be some of the best—gaining the trust of the animals who need it most and giving them another chance. From here on out, she gets warmth, food, rest and someone making sure her babies have the same.
I linger for a few more minutes before I get up to check on the volunteers and ensure Keith—another full-timer who occasionally takes overnights when our usual overnighter, Sam, isn’t available—is updated on all our new intakes and animals that need medication.
I dust the piles of dog hair off my pants, constantly shocked when my black leggings are a multitude of colors by the end of the day. I lock up Silver’s kennel and begin to make my way toward the front. Most of the dogs are asleep at this late hour, though a few wait by their gates, eager for any attention they can get. It makes my leaving take longer because, of course, I have to stop and give them all a proper rub and treat. Finally, I do one last check of the clipboards, ensuring all medications were administered for the night and signed off on.
My eyes snag on a familiar signature I can trace with my eyes closed.
Kane must have been here earlier. I know he still comes by and volunteers, though not as often as he used to—maybe four times in the past month, and never at the same time as me. I think Sharlene is secretly giving him my schedule. It stings to know he’s been avoiding me, but my heart warms atthe thought of him still coming by, seeing and loving on some of the lonelier residents.
As much as I wish all these dogs were adopted right away, that’s not the reality for some shelter dogs. Senior dogs are often harder to place, especially when puppies are available.
My heart breaks thinking of all the dogs that still need homes, my mind stuck on Silver. She’ll be one of the harder ones to get adopted. Her puppies will go first, while I’m sure mom will stay for a while longer.
I pull my phone from my pocket and bring up the shelter’s profile online. I’ve been working so hard to keep it updated, filling it with adorable dog videos of our residents. I’ve somehow gained quite a following and it has really made a difference, with people traveling from towns away to adopt ones that we’ve showcased. The page has even had a few viral videos, helping with not only donations but also with getting the word out about how many shelter dogs are so desperately needing a home. People love seeing our “Dog of the Month” spotlight, which almost always guarantees an adopter or foster picking them up shortly after. My heart is floating with how great of a place the internet can be.
I upload a video of Silver from my phone, hoping it gains the traction I need to get her the rest and peace she so rightfully deserves.
I close out the tab before I’m tempted to look up a certain someone. He hasn’t posted since we broke up, not that I’m checking. I still look from time to time to see if maybe he’s uploaded a story, simply out of curiosity, but he’s been radio silent.
Not that he posted that often when we were together. All his pictures are still up on his page, most of which are of him and me. There are a few of him, Marcus and Graysonand one from an open mic night I made him perform at, but even our prom photos are still there.
I sidle up to the front desk, also my makeshift office when I’m here. The front is decorated in lots of earthy tones with light beige walls and green accent chairs in the lobby. The place is immaculately tidy for an animal shelter. Sharlene is a stickler for cleanliness. Knowing most of these dogs have come from bad circumstances, she wants to set a precedent for how good these animals are taken care of going forward. The long wooden counter hides the desk behind it, paperwork covering all available spaces with applications, vet bills and all the other things it takes to keep this shelter running.
I huff out a sigh as I take a seat on the plush rolling chair that I picked out because the last one made my butt numb after only a few hours. Cracking my neck, which is stiff from sitting in the same position in the kennels, I log onto the computer and start to answer some emails.
