Page 37 of How Not to Date a Griffin

Reid cut him off. “You came to volunteer, right?”

How his nod managed to be cute, Reid didn’t know.

“So we’ll volunteer. I’m happy to, honestly.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” he said, and leaned to the right side of the door, trying to see the cages. “How many new towels do you need?”

Nolan smiled – beamed, really, bright as the fucking sun breaking through the clouds – and nodded. “Well, alright, then. Let’s see.”

Nolan

Nolan counted the kennels without red tags and called the number out to Reid.

He turned around to make sure Reid had heard him, and was greeted with the sight of Reid’s ass. He was facing away from Nolan, the closet just across the small hall open as he gathered the towels, which—blessedly—were on a lower shelf for some reason. Reid had to bend at the waist to reach them, and Nolan’s cheeks flushed.

He spun on his heel and faced the cat towers, the felines eying him from the tops in a manner as if to say, We saw that.

“You saw nothing,” he whispered.

“What’s that?”

Nolan jumped at the sound of Reid’s voice, and twisted back around just as he unlatched the door.

“Nothing,” Nolan answered far too quickly to be casual.

Reid’s lips twitched. “You can talk to the cats, man, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Right. Yes, I was talking to them,” he admitted.

“What about?”

“Secret… cat stuff?”

“Fine, fine. Keep your secret cat secrets. I’m just the errand boy,” Reid sighed.

Nolan winced, placing the stack of towels down and speaking low enough not to startle the cats. “I can’t believe I never considered that they’d be set off by you. I’m so sorry, again. You’d think after volunteering around cats for so long, I would’ve known that.”

He reached the first cage, spying a large orange tabby inside. “Hello, Citrus,” he greeted gently, peering at him. He looked elderly, lounged out across a red towel that looked worse for wear. “Ready for a new red carpet?” he asked in his cat voice.

He couldn't help it. It just happened. His pitch went up as he spoke to them, almost an embarrassing squeak of a noise.

“How long?” Reid said, and Nolan turned his attention to the half-feline on the other side of the door.

His lips twitched. “How long what?”

“How long have you been volunteering?”

“Oh, uhm…” Nolan went over the different places he’d spent his time in his head. He grabbed a new towel to show Citrus, and slowly unlocked the cage, trying not to make the metal groan and screech. “A few years now, at least. Basically, ever since my father first started taking me on trips.”

“So you volunteer all over?”

“I do. Every city we stop in, I try to find somewhere.” It was his own form of therapy, in a way. Animals were way easier to talk to than people.

Citrus did not seem to care that Nolan was invading his space, even if he came with a clean, fluffy new towel.

“Hello, there,” he said softly, removing first the food bowl, then the water, and finally the litter pan from the cage. “Just a little remodeling.” Last but not least, the feline. Citrus stared at him in boredom as Nolan grabbed the edges of the towel and slowly pulled.