Page 38 of How Not to Date a Griffin

“What’s that one’s name?” Reid asked, and Nolan turned his head to find him peeking in through the screen door.

“This is Citrus. He seems friendly, or at least neutral. Have you ever had a pet?” Nolan asked.

Reid hummed. “No. Couldn’t afford ‘em when I was a kid, but there’s a few strays that hang around the restaurant.”

Nolan listened as he pulled the towel out of the cage. Eventually, Citrus rolled over to escape the movement of the fabric, and Nolan tossed the dirty towel in the hamper.

“Do you feed them?” Nolan asked.

“Of course. They love the scraps.”

“And they’re not scared of you?” Citrus wasn’t offended when Nolan went to pet him, sniffing his hand curiously.

“I mean, they don’t greet me when I go outside or anything. They just wait until I’m gone before they go after the food.”

Nolan replaced the towel and then shut the cage, locking it behind him.

“What do you do now?” Reid asked.

“Well, for each cage we need to clean their water bowls and food bowls, scoop their litter, and replace it if it looks old enough.”

“Every day?” Reid asked, eyes wide. “That’s a lot of cats.”

“Well, no. But I like to be thorough.” Sometimes it was better to be safe.

“Here, I can wash the bowls while you replace the towels,” Reid said, and unlatched the door. The cats on the towers hissed again, and Reid shot them a droll stare. “Oh, calm down. I’m doing you a favor, here.”

Nolan chuckled at the cats’ dramatics and handed over the bowls. “You remember where the sink is?”

“You mean the one that’s five feet away? I think I can make it,” Reid said, sending a wink toward him before disappearing down the hall.

Nolan moved onto the second cage, another elderly cat, who required a bit more pampering before he removed the towel. He didn’t want to terrify the poor guy, so he let him warm up with some sniffs.

When he heard the clack of the bowls and the latch of the door, Nolan spoke without turning his head, keeping his voice soft for the cat. “Next, would you get me some of the treats out of the closet?”

He waited until the cat, Bobo, seemed less offended at his presence, and shut the cage to take the bowls from Reid.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, unsure about the expression on Reid’s face.

After a blink, lips parting in a distracting manner, Reid seemed to shake himself and said, “What? Nothing. Uh, treats?” His cheeks colored, and then Nolan flushed, and they both stammered as Reid left the room with another glare at the hissing cats.

He poked his hand through, the bag of treats crinkling, and suddenly the cats were a lot more eager to have their towels replaced.

“Hey, I have a question,” Reid said softly, with a paranoid glance down the hallway. “Are the water bowls supposed to be slimy?”

Nolan stepped closer to the door, lowering his voice. “That’s just a thing that happens. And it's why I insist on cleaning them when I volunteer. Does it gross you out? I can wash t—”

“No, I was just curious. I mean, ew, but it’s fine,” Reid insisted, and made a grabby hand for the next set of bowls.

They worked in tandem, the process flowing much smoother and faster with two people. The litter boxes took no time at all, a fresh scoop and a bit of baking soda that Reid kindly retrieved for him. Only a few of them needed full changes, which made his job easier.

“You’re really good with them,” Reid said suddenly, and Nolan startled, so focused on the sweetest cat, a tortoiseshell tabby, in the last cage. He ignored the blush on his cheeks from the compliment.

The cat was missing an eye and one of her ears was rather scraggly from old bites, but Nolan loved her with his whole heart right away.

It was intimate, even though they were in separate rooms with a screen door between them, to be showing this side of himself to Reid. A side he didn’t share with anyone at all, really.

“This one’s a fighter. Tough,” Nolan said, scratching under her chin and welcoming her loud, vibrating purrs.