Page 102 of Puppy Love

I grasp the bars on the kennel behind me, and I pull myself to my feet, still gripping my head with my other hand.

“Shit! Are you okay?”

I shuffle my feet to turn, watching each step to prevent myself from falling again. My fingers are turning white from the intensity with which they hold onto the kennel. When I finally see Avery standing in the doorway, I open my mouth to say that I’m fine-thank-you-very-much, but instead, a piercing pain shoots through my eye socket.

“Agh!”

My other eye shuts, making the world go dark, and when I open it again, Avery is gripping my shoulders, examining my head carefully. I try to open my other eye, but it burns, water filling it the second the air brushes against it. I immediately place my hand back over it to apply pressure, which seems to be the only thing that helps the sharp, pulsing pain. A large hand grips my wrist, pulling my hand off my eye.

“Ow!” I yell, trying to jerk away. But Avery’s grip is strong, and he tightens his fingers around my wrist.

“I need to look at it!” he responds firmly, tilting the angle of his head as he analyzes me. I huff, but don’t protest.

This shit hurts.

Avery gently brushes his finger underneath my brow, but to me, he may as well have just punched me.

“Fuck, Avery!” I wince, sucking air between my teeth. Avery finally releases my wrist when his fingertips part from my eye. He doesn’t apologize for inflicting more pain.

“I’m going to have to take you to Urgent Care,” he says instead. I step back, my cheek lifted to my lashes. I try to shake my head, but the throbbing intensifies.

“N-no,” I stutter. My stomach churns, but I fight it back down. “I don’t want to go to Urgent Care. I’m fine.”

“Your eye is purple, and you can barely stand up,” he replies shortly. “Is the room spinning?”

“Yes.”

“You feel like you’re gonna p—” Gulp. “—puke?”

“…yes.”

“You probably have a concussion. I got them in college all the time when I played lacrosse. You need to go to Urgent Care.”

“I—”

“—Violet isn’t here. So as the manager on shift, I contractually have to take you to Urgent Care. It’s not really an option,“ he cuts me off, then slides a slip leash from his head. He leans down and slides it onto Banksy, who is happily wagging his tail as if he has full coverage for the head-on collision that just occurred. Avery says something into his headset that I can’t quite understand over the ringing in my ears, and only moments later, Brooke pops into the room.

“Hey Ayve! What’s u-OH MY GOD!” Brooke screams when her eyes land on me, and I huff at her reaction.

“It’s not that bad,” I say, trying and failing again to open my bruised eye. “…right?”

Avery snickers, and Brooke’s high-pitched voice only goes higher when she responds.

“Um… it’s…” Brooke trails off. “It’s... like... have you ever seen an MMA fight?”

Avery’s snicker turns to full-on laughter, his face turning red. I try to furrow my brows, but even that stings. Instead of a painful scowl, I puff my cheeks out so the pair standing in front of me are aware of my dissatisfaction.

“You definitely need to get seen by someone,” Brooke says, waving her hand in the air.

“She is,” Avery starts. “That’s why you—” He hands the leash to Brooke, Banksy tugging at the other end. “Are going to have Martha call his parents to tell them he’s ready. And put him in a holding suite with some water.”

Brooke nods, a large Barbie-like grin across her soft porcelain face. Her cheeks are pink, and her white teeth are perfectly straight. She genuinely looks like a Barbie.

“I’ll get right on that boss!” she exclaims.

Look, I really like Brooke. She’s sweet and ridiculously smart. But right now, she’s getting on my nerves. Thankfully, Brooke is quickly dragged out of the room by the overeager dalmatian.

“Alright,” Avery says, crouching down so my arm can easily drape over his shoulders. He looks ridiculous, a six-foot-something man squatting down to a mere five feet, but I’m not about to let him pick me up, even if my head rattles painfully with each step we take.

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