by R.S. Grey
I decide that as soon as it’s not so obvious, I’m moving to sit at the other end of the half-circle. I can’t take much more of their commentary.
Adam spots me right away, probably because I’m the only attendee parked on the floor. I half expect him to ignore my presence altogether, but he walks straight for me. Mouse takes notice and leaps to his feet. All my effort in calming him down is out the window now that his favorite target as of late has made an appearance. Mouse jumps and whines, desperate for Adam to step within the three-foot radius his leash allows. I try to get him to sit, but it’s no use.
I’m aware of the entire room watching me try and fail to corral my dog, and yet all it takes from Adam is one deep command—“Mouse, sit.”—and the dog actually listens. Only then does Adam reward him with a few pets.
“Is that part of the training class?” I laugh. “Learning how to alter our voices so they sound more commanding?”
It’s meant to be a joke, but Adam looks up at me with an odd expression.
“Oh, I was kidding…”
He smiles. “I know. Here.”
He tosses me something and I have to think fast to catch it before it falls to my feet. I hold it out and then realize it’s two somethings: black kneepads like the kind I used to wear whenever I roller-skated as a kid.
“Oh ha-ha, looks like everyone’s a comedian,” I say, genuinely amused.
He’s wearing an adorably crooked smile when I glance back up.
“I saw them in a shop earlier and thought of you.”
Whoa.
I freeze, slightly taken aback by his admission. I guess he sees the shock on my face, because he shakes his head. “Y’know, only because of your skinned knees. Obviously you don’t have to wear them.”
The whole exchange is made a thousand times more awkward because we are still the center of the universe, AKA this small puppy training class. I don’t have to look at the women sitting beside me to feel the death glares they’re sending my way. Adam walked into class and talked to me first, and he gave me a gift, and he said he was thinking about me.
I’m almost tempted to put on the damn kneepads just to prove a point.
“Well thanks,” I say, holding them up. “Maybe I’ll go rollerblading with Mouse.”
“I’ll call the National Guard.”
As soon as Adam walk away, Mouse leaps into the air, and snatches one of the kneepads out of my hand.
“No!” I rebuke. “Bad dog!”
He drops it instantly, coating my shoes in a nice bit of slobber.
“I guess some dogs need this class more than others,” says the woman beside me. Her friend laughs, and Adam pretends he doesn’t hear them. For that, I’m grateful.
After a nod in my direction, he walks to the center of the gymnasium and offers a small wave to everyone. “I guess it’s as good a time as any to get started. We have one more attendee joining us in a bit, but we’ll go on without her.”
Oh good, another person to compete with for Adam’s attention.
The thought is there, blaring in my brain before I can stop it. Since when am I competing for his attention? If anything, I want to do the opposite. I’ve made such a complete fool of myself the last few times I’ve been around him, there’s no hope for anything but a nice, weird friendship to settle into place between us, and even that is probably asking a bit much. Still, he invited me to the training class, and he extended an olive branch in the form of kneepads, right?
“Sorry! I’m here! I’m here!”
Spiders crawl down my spine as a familiar voice drifts into the gym, and I glance up just in time to see my coworker Lori bobbing into the room, all but dragging an ancient-looking Pomeranian behind her.
Adam waves away her apologies. “No, you’re just in time. Have a seat—” He remembers that all of the chairs have already been claimed and corrects himself, “Or stand, it doesn’t matter. We’ll be moving around here in a second anyway.”
Lori sees me, narrows her eyes, and continues speed walking to the opposite end of the half-circle. I rarely see her outside of work, and the fact that she’s here means I won’t be enjoying this training class nearly as much as I’d hoped. Though, there is one bonus: Lori in civilian clothes. I’ve had the pleasure of seeing her sport some truly heinous work clothes, but tonight she’s gracing us with a hot pink Juicy Couture tracksuit à la early 2000s. Her dog, the decrepit white fluffball, is wearing a matching hot pink fur collar.
“Isn’t your dog a little old to be in here?” someone asks, trying to edge out the competition.
“Yeah, isn’t this a puppy class?” pipes in another.
Unfortunately, Adam quiets the rebellion before it really starts to spread. “In my experience, the whole can’t-teach-old-dogs-new-tricks story is just an old wives’ tale. I think everyone should be welcome here.”
How very polite of him. Especially since he’s mostly addressing old wives.
I glance over to find Lori beaming up at him like he’s the second coming of Christ. She’s probably imagining what he would look like in a matching pink tracksuit of his own, a perfect little velour family in the making.
After, Adam passes out a waiver form we all have to fill out before he jumps into training. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but he really does know his stuff. We’re all given a bag of dog treats and a training tool Adam calls a clicker. It’s a small instrument he instructs us to wear around our wrist, and any time our dogs perform a desired behavior, we click the clicker and reward him with a treat. It’s a very easy concept.
I tell Mouse to sit.
Mouse sits.
I click and then treat him.
Unfortunately, not everyone has such an easy time catching on—either that, or they’re feigning confusion in exchange for an extra minute or two of Adam’s time. Chihuahua girl, who I learned is named Beth, seems to have never heard of the concept of positive reinforcement in her entire life.
“So I click it before or after she does the trick?” she asks for the tenth time.
Adam nods patiently. “Always after. We’re trying to connect the behavior to the sound of the click, and the click to the treat.”
“Oooooh, I think I get it now!”
She doesn’t.
Adam has to help her for ten more minutes. Meanwhile, Mouse and I are practicing our sitting—well, he’s the one doing the sitting, but I’m asking him to do so, and he’s doing an excellent job at it. The clicker seems to hold his attention, and he enjoys getting rewarded for the behavior. Best of all, he’s not trying to tug on the leash and run for another dog. He seems to be content with training, and Adam takes notice.
“You’re doing really well,” he says when he has the time to stroll over to my corner of the gymnasium. I smile and tell Mouse to sit.
For once, he listens right when I need him to.
I click and treat.
“You can take the clicker with you on your walks with him,” he points out. “Every time he looks up at you while he’s by your side, click and treat. It’ll encourage him to keep his attention on you instead of on squirrels or pedestrians who happen to catch his eye.”
I beam. “Genius! I’m definitely trying that.”
He nods and turns to head for another student, but I strike up a conversation first.
“You know, it’s funny, I wouldn’t have pegged you as the puppy training kind of guy.”
He runs a hand through his hair and smiles. “Honestly, I’m not. Apparently my predecessor at the clinic set this class up, and since there were a few students who’d already signed up, I didn’t want to cancel the class. I guess it’s a good way to drum up business.”
I nod. “Well you’re doing a good job.”
His brows rise at my compliment. “Thanks.”
And then I decide that if we’re going to be friends, I can tell him the truth. “By the way, half the people in this class only signed up because they saw your face on the flyer.”
I swear he
blushes then. His green gaze meets the ground and he shakes his head, a rosy tinge coloring his cheeks. Adam the Vet saves puppies for a living and he blushes? Daisy is going to have a field day.
“I figured something was up. I’ve already been asked for my number four times.”
“No way!” These women are ballsier than I thought.
He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just the new guy in town.”
“Mhm, I bet you didn’t get any attention at all back in Chicago.”
He frowns like I’ve just said something to annoy him.
“It was just a joke.” My turn to shrug.
He shakes his head. “Yeah, I just…for a second there, I forgot you knew I lived in Chicago. I should probably go help out some other students.”
“Right. Yeah,” I say, because nothing better comes to mind. Just when I think he and I are moving in the right direction, we careen into awkward, murky territory. I’ve never had this problem with a man before, and I don’t like it. It makes me feel like I’m back in middle school, trying to impress the popular boy.
The remainder of class passes faster than I thought possible as Adam walks us through a few more basics of the clicker and explains how the class will run. At the end of the six weeks, our puppies will go through a training test, and if they pass, we’ll be given a paper diploma we can show everyone in our life that cares to see it—i.e. no one. Still, I want that diploma.
I successfully avoided Lori the entire 60 minutes, but I can’t help but seek her out as we’re packing up. Her Pomeranian is splayed out on the floor, panting and exhausted from the class. Mouse, by comparison, could still run a marathon without batting an eyelash. Lori doesn’t seem to realize how tired her dog is, though; she’s busy schmoozing Adam and slightly dragging the limp creature along the gym floor. I can’t hear her, but I can see that she’s ass-deep into her Five Ss. She smiles, bats her eyelashes, and then reaches out to touch his arm. I sneer.
It’s bad, but it gets worse when I see her withdraw a business card from her massive Louis Vuitton purse. She nods and presses the card into his hand, and I’m sure the color is completely drained from my face. My hands turn to fists at my side and I’m seconds away from drawing blood. Is she seriously trying to take him on as a client right now? Here? And then I’m horrified because the answer is obvious: Lori being in the puppy training class wasn’t a coincidence. With Lori, it never is. She must have heard Adam’s renting and run to unhook her dog from life support for one last training class. All just so they could meet “organically” and she could start “essing” all over him. What a diabolical asshole.
I’ve never liked her more.
But I can’t let her get away with it. I knew Adam first, and if he’s going to be anyone’s client, he’s going to be mine.
I wait another minute or two as a few more students filter out of class, and then I make my move. I’m sure there are ways of being sly and polite about it, but I need to strike while the iron is hot.
“Dr. Foxe, can I steal you for a second?”
He finishes up his conversation with another attendee and then directs me to the side of the room. He seems pleased that I came to talk to him, which I take as a good sign.
“Did you have fun in class?” he asks, reaching down to pet Mouse. He knows just the spot to scratch behind Mouse’s ear, and my dog is basically putty in his hands.
“Yeah, it was great. I already feel like Mouse has improved, and it was only one class.”
“That’s great.” Adam looks up at me and I’m momentarily blinded by those green eyes. They really are something.
But I’m not here to ogle his eyes.
“Yeah, so listen…I know Lori probably just mentioned something about being a real estate agent…”
He laughs and pushes back to stand. “Yeah, she gave me the whole spiel.”
“Ugh, how annoying for a realtor to assault you the first time meeting.”
He shrugs and I continue while I still have the nerve.
“But since this is like, I dunno, the fifth or sixth time we’ve met, I figured I should let you know that Lori and I actually work at the same agency.”
He nods slowly, probably putting the pieces together, but I can’t assume anything. I need to make myself perfectly clear.
“And if you were looking to purchase a house here, I would love to represent you. I mean, Lori is great, but ughh, so tactless, am I right?”
I laugh then, but he doesn’t join me.
“Is this what you wanted to talk about?” He tilts his head, studying me. “Selling me a house?”
“Oh, umm…yeah.” I’m floundering. “Basically I just wanted you to know that I’d love to work with you.”
He tugs his hand through his hair and backs up. “Jesus, you people are relentless. At least she had a business card.”
Abort. ABORT.
“No! I just didn’t want to let the opportunity pass without—”
He laughs and backs up. “Well you definitely didn’t let the opportunity pass. Now your behavior at Lucas’ housewarming party makes way more sense. I thought you were bipolar there for a second, but now I realize you were just being nice to me because you want my business.”
Sort of…yes.
“No!” I lie. “Of course not. I’m not like that, I’m a nice person!”
“When it benefits you,” he adds, and I feel my cheeks burn.
It’s not true, not really.
I hold up my hands in defense. “Listen, let’s forget I ever said anything. Clearly you’re not looking for a real estate agent, and even if you were, it definitely wouldn’t be me.”
My self-deprecating humor completely deflects off him. His mouth is tugged into a sharp frown, and I just need to leave. There’s no way I’ll salvage the situation.
“Okay, well, I better get Mouse home. He needs his dinner.”
I did too before this conversation completely stole my appetite. He doesn’t offer anything more than a curt goodbye, and I’m left with a painful sensation in the pit of my stomach on the drive home. Mouse is hanging out the window, happy as can be, but it doesn’t cheer me up. I arrive back at my lonely apartment, ignore the melodramatic RENT OVERDUE sign taped to my front door, and flip on the light.
Mouse’s toys are strewn across the tacky brown carpet. My secondhand furniture is in desperate need of replacing, and sadly, the mess of dishes I left in the sink last night is still there, taunting me. I crack open the fridge, take in the pitiful fare, and slam the door closed again. There’s no denying it: my life is crumbling. I’m days away from caving and moving back in with my parents—either that or just leaping into the Rio Grande and letting it carry me down to Mexico.
Hola, me llamo loser.
I slide down to the floor and don’t even realize I’m crying until Mouse trots over and starts licking the tears from my cheeks. It’s the saddest, sweetest moment of my day, and I don’t fight his affection. I wrap my arms around his abundant fur and pull him closer.
He licks and licks, and I don’t even mind his puppy breath. It’s soothing, right up until I glance down and see the two kneepads sticking out of the top of my purse. They make me cry harder.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ADAM
I’m in a lousy mood the next morning and though I’d like to blame it on my packed schedule, deep down, I know that’s not what’s bothering me. I was too hard on Madeleine last night at the end of the training class. At the time, I was pissed, and maybe somewhat…embarrassed. I went out of my way to invite her to the training class and bring her a little peace-offering, and though I’m good at denying it, I’m attracted to her—yet every chance she gets, she reminds me that she doesn’t see me that way. To her, I’m a potential client, nothing more.
That should make me happy. After all, I’m not looking for any kind of relationship, strings attached or otherwise, but in the heat of the moment, when she drew the line in the sand, I couldn’t help but feel like it was a blow to my
ego. Sure, I don’t want to date, but she doesn’t know that.
At the very least, she and I could have been friends, but now that seems out of the question too, considering how I acted last night. The hurt expression she wore as I berated her (for the second time) is going to be forever burned in my mind.
Maybe we just don’t mix.
But I refuse to believe that.
I couldn’t take my attention off her last night. She was working so diligently with Mouse, minding her own business in a corner of the gymnasium, and over the course of the hour, I caught myself watching her a dozen times. I’d tell myself to focus on another student and their dog, and yet my attention would wander right back to her.
She was good with Mouse, patient when he was learning and quick to reward him when he mastered a new trick. I saw a different side of her, one I wanted to get to know…up until she asked me if I was in the market for a real estate agent. That burst my bubble real quick.
“Dr. Foxe,” calls Derek, one of the vet assistants, from outside my office door. “Your next patient is ready for you in exam room two.”
I tell him I’ll be right there, but there’s no folder waiting for me outside the exam room. I knock on the door, assuming he left it inside on accident, but as soon as I see my mom perched in one of the chairs, I know I’ve been set up. Even now, I can hear my staff laughing out at reception.
She looks up at me, her short, gray bob accented by a pair of blue earrings that match her dress. On her lap is a stuffed animal bird, and even though I’m in the throes of a shitty mood, I can’t help but crack a little smile.
“Mom, to what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask, closing the door behind me. “And did you actually make an appointment? I’ve been behind all morning.”
She holds up the bird. “As a matter of fact, I did. Birdie here has an ear infection.”
“Funny.”
She sighs and sets the stuffed bird back on her lap. “It’s the only way I can see you these days! You moved from Chicago a month ago and I’ve only seen you twice!”
“That’s more than you used to see me.”
