Page 3 of Puppy Love

I’ve come to the conclusion that this fear was a major contributing factor to them moving in with Avery. The two mostly work the same shifts, so they carpool. I mean, that has to be a factor, given that Avery is bothersome most days, though I think I’m the only one who notices.

Not that I’m always pleasant company myself. Adrian always says that I’m not a “glass half-full” or a “glass half-empty” person, but more of a “drinkable water is a finite resource” type. But my relentless anxiety attacks about global warming and life changes and that thing I didn’t mean to throw away that one time, aren’t really in my control. Avery’s blunt comments and egotistical stance? Yeah, that’s all on him.

I narrow my eyes at them in suspicion.

“Are you just asking me because Avery opens and you don’t?”

Adrian’s expression shifts, and they cross their arms over their body.

“Snitch.”

A loud chuckle erupts from the bathroom, and Adrian flips Avery off through the wall. They turn back to me with pleading, puppy-dog eyes, and I swear they are the human embodiment of sunshine. Their bouncy black curls, their smooth dark skin, that adorable gap between their two front teeth. Adrian Barlowe might be one of the sweetest people ever born. When they aren’t angry, of course.

I roll my eyes. “Are you going to complain about Luigi?” I ask with a sigh. Adrian gives me a coy smile, and bats their eyelashes.

“Is he going to break down again?”

Luigi is my golden 1999 Lexus LS400. The car boasts fabulous leather seats and a mechanical moonroof, complete with a polished wooden interior. That being said, Luigi is a real piece of shit. He gets about twelve miles to the gallon on a good day, is always leaking something from somewhere, and has a love letter engraved on the outside of the driver’s door that reads “cunt,“ left by my charming ex-boyfriend Cody. Still, I love him. Luigi, that is. Cody can get hit by a train.

“Probably.” I shrug. Adrian frowns. “He’s on a pretty good streak right now. It’s been—” I count silently on my fingers. “Three weeks with no trouble?”

Hayden clears his throat from the couch. “Cam, don’t you think it’s about time to let him go?” He runs his fingers through the thick white fluff posted on top of Major’s head. “I told you my parents and I are more than willing t—”

I shoot Hayden a glare that I hope he can physically feel.

1“I’m not getting rid of him,” I say flatly. “Ever.”

I don’t care that Luigi’s repairs cost more than his worth. I don’t care that he stops working on a regular basis. To me, he’s invaluable.

The creaky moonroof, and the worn leather of the seats brings back memories I’m scared to forget.

The wind funneling through the sunroof on hot summer days. The CD station that was once new and high-tech but is now “retro” and rarely touched. My dad getting on me for allowing Cooper, my childhood dog, to sit on the seat beside me.

“Cameron Felicity Miller, he’s going to rip a hole in the leather!” he’d always say, but I could still see him smiling through the rearview mirror.

Those memories, I’m scared I’ll forget. But his voice could never slip my mind.*

Hayden puts his hands up defensively, and Adrian sucks in a breath through their teeth.

“Okay, okay,” he says. “The offer is always there.”

“On second thought,” Adrian says, smiling awkwardly. “Luigi is perfect. I love him actually. No complaints here!”

The pitch of Adrian’s voice reaches a frequency that is a little too high for someone as hungover and non-caffeinated as I am. As if he’s reading my mind, Hayden peels himself off the couch and moseys his way to the door.

“I’m making a coffee run,” he squeaks, shoving his feet into a pair of Avery’s slippers that are much too large for him. “Who’s coming?”

Evergreen Grounds is the world’s best drive-through coffee kiosk. Or, Greenrock Valley, Washington’s, at least. You wouldn’t expect the most delicious coffee to come from a green shed on the side of the road, but it’s our go-to stop, no matter our destination. I think our group single-handedly keeps the business afloat, which might say more about us than them.

“One dirty chai, one hot caramel macchiato, one iced pistachio latte, and one black coffee, right?” the barista asks, her dark lashes almost long enough to touch her bangs.

“And two—” I look behind me from the passenger seat to make sure I’m counting correctly. I’m not. “Three pup cups please.”

Pumpkin stayed home.

The barista nods, scribbling onto a blue notepad. “Anything else?”

“We love you, Aurora,” Adrian says, blowing a kiss through the back window. Aurora laughs brightly and blows a kiss back before sliding the drive-through window shut.

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