Page 11 of Little Blue

But this—this is taking our relationship too far, too fast.

“Where are you?” I ask Misha as I move away from the cat.

“About six people behind her. She’s on the subway.”

“On her way here?”

“I would assume.”

My chest feels—well, it feels. “She has not seen you?”

“The woman is shamefully oblivious. I’ve been her shadow for a week, and she hasn’t made eye-contact with me once.” The disapproval in his voice can’t be missed. “Not once, Ilya. She is a hazard to herself.”

“Hmm.” I don’t like that.

“She’s the perfect prey,” Misha continues.

I loose a growl. “She is my prey.”

The cat eyes me through curious yellow eyes. Then he turns and hops into his tree of carpet and twine. Smart cat.

“Yes. Well, you’ll have to give your prey a lesson in watching her back.”

“I will protect her.”

Misha sighs, his disagreement loud. “She should at least know to scan her surroundings.”

I pull open her fridge, knowing that I will find it next to empty. If I could have filled it with groceries without drawing attention to myself, I would have.

I slam the door closed, pissed off at the half empty carton of eggs, jar of blueberry jam, tub of margarine, and bag of salad marked thirty percent off. The lettuce is wilting.

And who eats blueberry jam? Everyone knows the red jam is far superior.

Crazy, infatuating woman.

“How far are you?”

“Ten minutes, tops.” Misha sighs. He makes no secret of his feelings for public transportation. But he goes where she goes until I’ve decided what I’m doing with her.

I flick open a cupboard—the one with the cans of cat food. It’s near to bursting.

The moment yellow eyes lock on the open cupboard, the black ball of fur is darting to close the space between us. I appraise the cat.

She practically starves herself, but he eats like a king.

I cock my head at the now howling animal.

She loves him.

“We take her tonight.” I’ve made up my mind. “Tell Boris to buy one of those cages to put small animals in.”

“Finally.” Misha sighs in relief that is not long lasted. “Wait. What? A cage? You’re bringing her cat?”

“Yes.” She loves him.

“Ilyaaaa.” He lengthens my name. “What are you doing? You don’t like cats.”

“This one isn’t so bad.”

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