I look from man to man, then at Olli, who is also staring with obvious confusion. “Uhm…do you two know each other?”
“Barely,” Fiore snaps. He resolutely turns back to Olli, lowering his voice. At least his hands are gentle with the kitten as he plucks it from his shoulders. “I’d be more than happy to take this little one home.”
“Is this first-come, first-eats? Cat is escaping.” Kovachev points to where the kitten has slipped through Fiore’s fingers and climbs from his shoulder to the back of the couch, where it wobbles for a moment—thenleaps. Everyone flinches forward, but Kovachev catches the little rascal by the scruff, turning it over in a surprisingly gentle motion.
“Okay, can we please all settle down? Olli, why don't you get Tibia, and they can see who gets along better with which kitten?” I step forward, holding out my hand before the argument can turn more heated.
Kovachev hesitates only a moment, but then puts the black furball into my palm. I gently close my fingers around the squeaking kitten. When I look up, I flinch at the hard look Olli gives me.
“I don't know what you mean.”
“Oh, come on. Tibia, she's right ups—”
“This is the last adoptable kitten.” Olli raises his voice to speak over me.
I stare at him as he gets up to take the little one from my hands. “What the…Olli!”
“And yes, in this case, itisfirst-come, first-served. Rafael, do you need a carrier?”
“Yes, please. Let me also get a look at the cat food.” Fiore throws a last glare at Kovachev, then puts on his mirrored sunglasses before following Olli to the stairs.
Kovachev snorts. His eyes flash as Fiore comes closer, but he merely shakes his head when he stalks past him.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” I say, but there’s too much confusion and annoyance over Olli’s behavior to make the words sound genuine. Still, I turn to Kovachev. “I’m sure there are other animals at the pound that would be grateful for a new home. I hope you’ll find…” I trail off since Kovachev is already turning toward the front door, leaving without another word.
Linden, August 14th
“Hmm, no, you should wear the other shirt.” I shake my head to underline my point.
“Oh? Just now you said I should change into this!” Micah huffs, turning around to look himself over in the mirror that’s hanging on the back of his door—the only space in the attic that isn’t slanted.
“Yeah, but now that I see what it looks like on you, I think I can’t let you go like that.”
“Aren’t you the one who keeps telling me to go?”
I sigh, letting my eyes wander down along Micah’s back. The dark shirt fits him so well that it leaves very little to the imagination, melding perfectly with the curve of his back while clinging to his pecs in the front. The sleeves stretch over his upper arms, and I very badly want to squeeze my fingers under the fabric to feel how tight they are. Instead, I stay right where I am, sitting on Micah’s bed, watching him get ready.
It's the first Friday in a month that I have off, another moment we managed to steal just for us. It feels good, even if there’s the sneaking worry over how much it’ll hurt when the inevitablehappens. I don’t know how to be friends with someone I’ve been so intimate with.
“And I stand by that. You should go; it’ll be fun, and you’ll see your friends, but,” I reiterate, leaning back onto my hands, “not in that shirt.”
Micah pulls the shirt back over his head, throwing it at me with a smile. But when he turns back to the closet that’s pushed into the corner, he sighs deeply.
“Oh, come on, you’ll be home soon.” I chuckle at his theatrics, glad they distract me from the urge to pick up his discarded T-shirt and bury my nose in it. Instead, I fold it and place it neatly next to me. Best to focus on that to make sure he doesn’t read too much into my insistence. I’d much rather keep Micah right here with me, but with everything that Olli told me, I think Davenport needs his best friend around for this party.
In turn, I can try to take Olli’s mind off of all those things with an evening of movies and takeout.
“Maybe I’ll wait up for you,” I add, my nerves flaring, but the happy skip of my heart is stronger. We've only kissed since…well, since we had sex. I hope I'm not the only one who misses more than just the orgasms.
The way Micah’s head perks up and he turns around to me, eyes bright, gives me hope.
“Scratch the maybe.”
“Oh?” I can’t contain the grin, pushing myself up to standing. “Alright, I’lldefinitelybe waiting. Right here, in your bed.”
Micah groans deeply, crossing the distance between us in two steps. His hands reach out to grab my hips, pulling me in. The intensity in his eyes slides hotly down my spine. His skin is equally warm under my palms when I slide them over his chest, fingers tracing along his collarbones.
“I might get a little bit bored, doing some reading to pass the time. Maybe I’ll get some ideas…”
