by K. Ryan
I knocked on the door anyway.
It only took Finn a few moments to swing open the door, but when he did, happy surprise flickered across his handsome face.
“Hey,” he greeted me, leaning into the doorjamb as he spoke, “What’s up?”
I blew my bangs out of my face...God, I really needed to start growing those things out already.
“So, I owe you a pizza.”
A satisfied smirk worked its way across his face. “I knew it.”
“But,” I added. “Just so you know, I’m gonna be using that $20 you left on my table. So, you’re really the one buying the pizza.”
Both hands shoved sheepishly into his pockets. I’d told him not to leave any money at the table, that the pie was on the house, but I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised he hadn’t listened to me either.
“I can live with that,” he allowed.
Now came the part I was already embarrassed to ask.
“So, I gotta get some stuff for the cat, but I have no idea what I really need and I feel like I’m just going to be wandering the aisles of PetSmart like an aimless idiot if I don’t have any help.”
Finn nodded knowingly and crossed both arms over his chest. “I see. Well, my sister was a crazy cat lady when we were growing up. I suppose I could offer some assistance, if you want.”
He’d obviously seen through the paper-thin excuse and was game for a trip to the pet store, even though I hadn’t exactly come out and asked. Just as I opened my mouth to invite him along, a flash of bright orange, wiry hair appeared at Finn’s side.
“Hey there, neighbor,” Slinger drawled, his eyes darting to Finn and then back to me again. “What brings your lovely self to our door?”
The exasperation, not to mention borderline mortification, that crept across Finn’s face was enough to set aside my own slight embarrassment at his roommate’s forwardness. Slinger didn’t really let up either, lifting his eyebrows suggestively one after the other Jim Carrey-style as his gaze swept over the awkwardness.
“I was actually just about to ask Finn if he wanted to take a little shopping trip with me,” I offered, trying to at least appear calm and collected.
Slinger balked at the suggestion, his eyes widening as he stared back at me. “Finn doesn’t go shopping. I mean…” he gestured to the wrinkled mountain-print T-shirt that said California Waiting and the well-worn, slightly frayed jeans Finn was wearing, “You've seen him, right?”
Finn’s head turned slowly towards his roommate, like all this was happening in slow motion, and his face darkened as his lips curled back into the same playful snarl I’d seen at the café earlier today. “Hey. No one asked for your opinion, Sling.”
Slinger’s hands shot up in defense. “Geez. Bite my head off, why don’t you. I was just stating the obvious. But maybe you do need a chick to take you—”
“We’re not doing that kind of shopping,” Finn cut in sharply and then his eyes flicked back to me apologetically. “I just gotta grab my keys. I’ll be right back.”
He jabbed a finger at Slinger as he turned on his heel to disappear in the apartment and told him: “Behave.”
Slinger just shrugged, moving to the side so Finn could glide past him, and then his twinkling green eyes shifted slyly back to me. “You can come in, you know.”
“Nah,” I batted a hand into the empty space in front of me. “I’m good.”
“Sure you are,” Slinger tossed back good-naturedly with a grin. “You and Finn seem to be hitting it off nicely.”
I sucked in a breath, searching for some way to respond to that, but came up empty. What a shocker.
Now, Slinger glanced conspiratorially over his shoulder, mimicking his actions outside my door almost a week ago, and leaned in to whisper, “I think he likes you.”
I huffed out a laugh, despite the flurry of butterflies kicking soccer balls around my stomach, and shook my head. “What are we—12?”
Slinger’s head fell back, his shoulders shaking with hearty laughter, and he waved his index finger at me. “I need to get to know you a little better, but I think you just might be perfect.”
My eyebrows lifted into my forehead and I chewed on my bottom lip, hoping Finn showed up soon. Luckily, not even a moment later, Finn appeared at the door and face-palmed Slinger to push him out of the way so he could shut the door behind him. Without room for any hesitation, Finn gestured out to the hallway to signal it was time to get moving. I could’ve sworn I felt his hand ghost over the small of my back as he led me down the short hallway, but that could’ve easily been wishful thinking, too.
His black, massive Ford truck loomed out in front of us and after opening the passenger door for me, Finn scrambled to clear off the seat, tossing some of the trash into the back before I even had a chance to look inside. When we were both seated inside the truck and he was backing us out of our building’s parking lot, the intimacy of the whole thing suddenly struck me. Finn in the driver’s seat of his truck, me sitting close, breathing in the masculinity that lingered in the air, taking in his personal space, and still feeling comfortable with him even in the confined space.
Just the admission that I felt comfortable this way with him made me uncomfortable. God, feeling uncomfortable because I felt comfortable? This was a new low.
Those conflicting emotions raged war in my mind, twisting and pulling until I finally had to stare blankly out the passenger window to clear my head.
“Sorry about Sling,” Finn’s deep voice called out to me as he turned onto the street. “I’ve been trying to house-train him for years, but I’ve still got a lot of work to do.”
“It’s alright,” I laughed. “He seems nice enough. What’s up with that nickname though? When he came over last week, he told me his name is actually Marshall, but…”
I trailed off, looking to Finn to finally fill in the blanks for me, which he obliged with a sly grin.
“Ah, now that’s a good story. So, me, Sling, and a bunch of our other friends all went to high school together, right? Our sophomore year Sling was the new kid. He shows up the first day of football practice that August with these crazy thick glasses on that look like magnifying glasses, he’s got this ‘fro of clown-orange hair, freckles all over the place, but he’s cool, though, you know? Really funny. Easy-going. And he was a helluva a wide receiver, too, quick, good hands—”
“Let me guess,” I cut in with a knowing grin. “You were the quarterback?”
I wasn’t stupid enough to comment about the brand of truck he drove. You know, the one Aaron Rodgers was the spokesperson for?
Finn’s eyes narrowed sharply. “Is it that obvious? Never mind. Don’t answer that. Anyway...so by the time school started back up again, he’d just sorta fallen pretty easily into my group of friends. Then, the first day at lunch, he launches into this elaborate story about how his parents used to be U.S. ambassadors in Europe who’d just retired and moved back to the States and that was why he’d transferred in that year. So, naturally, everyone had questions—where did they live? What kinda shit did he see in all those different countries? He rolled with every question, telling us all these crazy stories about getting caught drinking in the embassy and making out with all these chicks from Amsterdam and Brussels and Munich and finally, by the time my head stopped spinning, I said, ‘I thought Coach said you were from Slinger’.”
“Oh no,” I half-groaned, half-laughed. I could already see where this was going.
“Yep,” Finn shot me a quick grin. “Good ol’ Marshall was just a transfer from Slinger. His dad’s a dentist and his mom’s a paralegal, by the way. I don’t know, I guess he thought telling us all those crazy stories would make us like him more or make him seem cooler. Needless to say, from that day on, everyone, even our coach, has always called him Slinger.”
“Poor Marshall,” I cringed. It was really too bad...I’d probably seen a hundred kids play that game in my past life and every time it hurt my heart. “You guys probably would’ve l
iked him anyway, huh?”
“Ah, it wasn’t that big of a deal,” Finn just waved a hand in the air. “He was embarrassed, sure. And he got ragged on for it, definitely, but honestly, I think we liked him even more after that because who comes up with that kinda shit, you know? Besides, that was...what, almost 15 years ago? Wow, that makes me feel really old.”
“Sounds like you guys had a decent group of friends,” I mused. “You know, if something like that happened now, I doubt he’d come out so unscathed. Kids can be so mean and just...diabolical, you know?”
When Finn just frowned at me, cold hard panic crept down my spine. I’d just violated one of my cardinal rules: never give away any information. I’d said too much. I’d made him wonder why I’d even have an opinion like that. This wasn’t even the first time I’d given too much away with him, too. And now, I had to scramble.
“I mean, I can think of a million ways kids could use social media to torture him now,” I went on, feeling my palms grow clammy with each word. “That story would’ve been all over Twitter or Snapchat or something like that within minutes. He never would’ve lived it down. Probably would’ve ended up switching schools, too.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Finn offered thoughtfully as he pulled us into the store’s parking lot. “I never thought about it like that before. I guess Sling’s lucky we weren’t a bunch of assholes back in the day and just gave him a little shit for it and moved on.”
“Minus the nickname,” I reminded him with a weak smile. The turn this conversation had taken made me queasy.
“Right. Minus the nickname. There’s no way around that.”
Luckily enough, he’d already parked his truck in a space and had turned off the ignition, so it was time to leave this conversation behind us.
Finn gestured to the main entrance of PetSmart with a bright smile, “Let’s go cat shopping.”
I laughed, letting him sweep away the tension that coiled its way through my body. It was time to have some fun for once and time to actually get excited about something, too.
. . .
“Well, I think that’s everything,” Finn surmised, his hands on his hips as he surveyed all the plastic bags sitting in my living room.
As it turned out, Finn was way more knowledgeable about all things feline-related than I’d ever given him credit for. We’d grabbed a cart and he’d easily led me around the cat section of the store, filling me in on foreign concepts like catnip, litter that clumped, and dust-free litter, which he informed me would be easier on my allergies, as well as the fact that my best bet was to find a place for Oliver’s litter box in my bathroom, which did not appeal to me at all.
Within a half hour, we had everything I needed: a collar, fancy ceramic bowls that Finn rolled his eyes at, a plastic pet carrier, a litter box complete with liners and that dust-free litter, a pooper scooper, an assortment of cat-friendly toys and treats, higher-quality dry food (apparently, according to Finn, the brand Oliver currently ate was, and I quote, “shit”), a scratching post, a brush, some waterless shampoo, and a tiny nail clipper.
“Yeah, I think so,” my eyes lingered on the shopping bags in a vain attempt at my mounting anxiety over Finn’s presence in my apartment. “I didn’t realize cats were so expensive.”
Finn laughed, dipping his head down in a nod. “Oh, just wait ‘til the vet bills start popping up. That’ll be fun.”
I grimaced, my eyes falling to the reason I’d just dropped over $200 at a pet store. “I don’t think fun is the right word for it.”
“Maybe not,” he allowed and ducked his head down to get a better look at the cat who was still perched leisurely on his chair out on my patio.
“So should I order that pizza?”
“You know what?” Finn cast me a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to grin at Oliver. “I think you two need some time to figure each other out. You don’t need me hanging around, crowding your big moment. Let’s do the pizza tomorrow night.”
There was something about the prospect of having the rest of the night with Oliver, let alone that Finn recognized this actually was a pretty significant moment for me, as sad as that was, that had my lips curling and my chest warming.
I wasn’t going to argue with that logic, especially since he wasn’t exactly reneging on our bet either.
“Okay,” I exhaled and followed Finn’s gaze out to the patio. “I’m not really sure what to do though.”
“You’ll figure it out,” he told me and I hoped his confidence bled into my reality. “And, if you need some help, I’m right across the hall. You sure you still don’t want any help tomorrow?”
“Yep,” I nodded firmly. If I was going to take responsibility for this cat, I was going to do it all the way. Go big or go home, you know? I’d told Finn as much during our shopping trip and while it would probably be smart to let him help me smuggle Oliver out of my apartment, I needed to do this on my own.
Finn just held up both hands, clearly resigned to his offer being cast aside. “Alright. You know where to find me tomorrow though if you change your mind.”
“That I do. Thanks, though. I really appreciate your help. I probably would still be at the store right now huffing into one of those treat bags because of a nervous breakdown.”
“Oh, come on,” he laughed. “You’re doing just fine. Why don’t you stop over when you’re done at the vet, let me know how everything went, and then we can go from there.”
Suddenly, I didn’t mind his presence in my apartment so much anymore.
“That sounds like a plan.”
Finn gestured with his head towards my front door and I followed his lead, trailing after him until we stood at the threshold between my door and the hallway.
“Well, this is where I leave you,” he exhaled dramatically and put a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve taught you everything I know, so I think you can take it from here, Emma.”
“Wow,” I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling. Through the light material of my T-shirt, my skin felt on fire underneath his light touch. “I’m sure I’ll be alright.”
It didn’t help, of course, that Finn’s eyes dropped to my lips for just a split second and he lingered a moment too long. With that, he snatched his hand from my shoulder like he was the one who’d been burned and slapped that hand against the door on his way out.
“Night, neighbor,” he called out to me and waved over his shoulder as I shut the door behind him.
Now I had a new problem on my hands. I was grateful for the space, appreciative that he’d sensed my need for a little independence here, and looking forward to finally letting the cat in my apartment, but now...I sort of wanted Finn here, too.
Pushing that terrifying thought aside, I settled on the matter at hand and shuffled around the shopping bags until I stood right in front of the heavy patio door. Oliver’s little head peeked over the side of his chair and then he hopped down onto the cement, probably expecting some food.
Man, was he in for a surprise.
My heart drummed in my chest, thundering hard, staccato beats and my teeth sawed across my bottom lip as I reached for the door handle. This was it. No going back now.
With a deep breath, I pulled the heavy door open and my fingers nimbly closed around the handle for the screen door. At this point, the cat was on to me and he sat back on his haunches, patiently waiting for me to make my move. But when I finally pulled open the screen door, he just stared back at me.
Maahwr.
Are you serious? Is this for real?
“Oh yeah, Oliver,” I told him, smiling down at him and gesturing one last time inside. “Time for you to move in.”
Meh.
He didn’t need anymore convincing as he glanced up at me one more time and then trotted inside, taking his time to cover the length of my living room carpet to get acquainted. I trailed after him, following his lead, as he went right for the shopping bags, rubbing up against them and dipping his head inside the one that held
his treats.
“Of course,” I laughed. “How did I know that was the one you’d find first? You know what? I should probably get your litter box ready. This should be interesting, huh?”
He sat back, watching me carefully while I sifted through the larger bags for the plastic litter box and grabbed the huge tub of litter Finn had lugged inside the apartment for me.
“So, I’m going to go set up your litter box. Wanna come with me?”
Maawhr.
“Okay, then. Let’s go,” I waved him down the hallway and he padded after me all the way into the bathroom.
Luckily, I had a big enough space that there was room for the whole thing, even though I was going into this blind. As Oliver sat patiently waiting, I got down to the business of getting his litter box ready, trying my best to follow Finn’s instructions to the T: lay down the mats first, litter box against the wall, put the liner in for easy clean-up, a little bit of that freshening sprinkle he’d told me to buy, and then I poured the tiny little pebbles into the plastic pan. I stepped back to survey my work, satisfied with my first effort at litter box prep, but Oliver didn’t waste any time marking his territory and was already right smack in the middle of it, pissing away like he owned the place.
In fact, he even had the nerve to glare up at me as if to say, A little privacy please...come on!
I held up both hands, wincing sheepishly and tip-toed out of the bathroom to give him his private time. This was going to be a challenge with his litter box there. Between that strong ammonia smell, the way he already sprinkled litter everywhere the second he jumped out of the box, I already had a mess on my hands.
Oh well. Like Finn had said, there really wasn’t a better place to put it that would contain the shit and contain anything that might affect my allergies. Whatever I had to do to keep that problem at bay...which reminded me…
