Page 10 of Puppy Love

I sigh loudly, shaking my head as I approach the bucket. I’m reaching for the wooden, splintering mop handle when a voice startles me, and my heart practically rams against my ribs. I clutch my chest.

“Can I help you?” the voice asks. It’s smooth yet raspy, and I swear I can sense familiarity in it. Turning around slowly, as to not let whoever it is know that they almost had me pissing my pants, pure mortification floods my body.

So that’s why she sounded familiar.

A small tan face, with perfectly plucked eyebrows, and a pierced angular nose blinks at me slowly. Those thick full lips are parted ever so slightly, her jaw just barely hanging open. Recognition floods her face, and while my cheeks are scalding, hers go ghostly pale.

“Oh, Vi!” Adrian’s voice interrupts us, before either of us has the chance for a verbal reaction. “I see you’ve finally met Cameron.”

four

Sunny's Neighborhood

Violet

You know those days when nothing is going well and everything is falling apart?

Yeah, I love those days. I feel like they really put me to the test. Force me to stay smiling in situations that feel impossible, some sort of twisted positivity game.

“Can you still stay happy with all this bullshit going down? Stay tuned to find out!”

Spoiler Alert: of course I can.

The problem is that, this time, things got a little too bizarre.

I had already dealt with one upset customer, one employee calling in due to COVID, and one little cut on a crazy corgi’s paw pad when it came to my attention that I’d massively fucked up.

I don’t need Adrian to introduce us, because the second Cam turns around, I realize exactly what had happened.

Cam. As in Cameron. As in Cameron Miller, the dog groomer that Avery hired.

I keep staring at the woman in front of me, hoping her face will distort itself into someone new. Someone different. Someone who wasn’t pressed against my body in a bar bathroom last night. But that doesn’t happen, of course. Cam blinks up at me with the same dark brown eyes and pretty little lips as she had last night.

I stare, tightening the muscles in my face to form the best smile I can manage under the circumstances. My hand reaches out in a professional gesture, and I thank the universe for programming that into me, because it wasn’t a conscious decision.

“Cam,” I say, nodding as I accentuate her nickname. Our eyes lock, Cam’s widening into giant, terrified saucers. “I’ve heard a lot about you!”

Cam’s hand slides weakly into mine, a montage of memories flooding into my brain from last night. Her smooth fingers gliding against my skin. Her warm breath heating up my neck. Soft sounds of desperation coming from the both of us. We give an awkward handshake before quickly pulling away.

Adrian shoots Cam a look, and at first, I’m terrified Cam might say something. But she stays silent.

When I ran into her, tipping that stupid margarita onto her dress, I wasn’t planning on making a move. No, I didn’t decide that until we sat down. Her hair was a tangled mess, her features soft and gentle. Despite her smudged mascara, her eyes were like shimmering espresso. When she looked at me the way she did, it felt like the only caffeine I’d ever need. Sweet coral lips and an adorable button nose, this woman looked like someone you’d see on the big screen.

But I didn’t make a move on her because she was pretty. Even her exposed skin played no role.

The reason I decided to flirt with this woman was because of her foul-ass attitude.

I like to think of myself as an objectively pleasant person. Even when I don’t want to be, I try my hardest to stay in a positive mood.

When I was a kid, I’d stay up and watch this cartoon that only aired at night as I waited for my parents to get home. Sometimes they’d get back at three in the morning, sometimes they wouldn’t get back at all. Either way, I watched it. The show was called Sunny’s Neighborhood, and it was about a smiley face with arms and legs that walked around his neighborhood and put smiles on everyone’s faces, even when they were having a hard day.

Sometimes their dilemma would be simple, like their favorite toy breaking or their stomach hurting. Other times, it would be deeper, like family struggles or bullying. Think Sesame Street, only it’s a slightly terrifying animated smiley face. Regardless, Sunny was my childhood mascot.

“Every day’s a treat when there’s smiles on your street!” he would say. It’s kind of a stupid slogan, now that I’m thinking back on it, but for some reason, it stuck with me.

In hindsight, I don’t think the show necessarily set the best example. Sunny would make kids smile even when crying or yelling would have been a more appropriate response. But I can’t deny that it kind of works for me. It’s easier somehow, to just keep smiling. So, because of that, because it’s easier, I have the utmost respect for people who wear their emotions on their sleeves.

Respect, admiration, attraction. Whatever.

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