Page 16 of Beautiful Prey

“But ironically some of my favorite animals are seals and penguins.”

He looked at me squarely. “You do realize seals eat penguins, right?”

“I’m aware. I just like them both for different reasons. But both are so bizarre if you think about it. One is like a dog with flippers. And one is a bird that chooses to swim instead of fly. It feels like they shouldn’t be a part of the ocean, but they are. Both choose to live in a dangerous territory, diving into deep dark water where they could be eaten alive by predators. They know the predators are there and yet they risk it anyway. They master their fear in order to survive.”

“I think a lot of animals are forced to do that,” Emery commented.

“Yes, I guess that’s true. But with the ocean terrifying me, it makes them more impressive to me than most. Plus, I think they're cute.”

He didn’t argue this. “So does it give you anxiety being near this much water?”

“As long as I’m on solid land, it’s no problem. I like the beach, and I’ll even brave going on a boat; just don’t expect me to get in the water.”

“Good to know.”

I couldn’t tell if he meant that or if he was being sarcastic. “Since I can’t own either of those animals, I have a cat. Her name is Sammy. She’s my best buddy. Of the furry variety at least.”

“Shocking. Somehow, I took you for a dog person, considering you know, the whole seal thing.”

“I like dogs too but cats are more convenient as a student.” He nodded as if that was a fair reason. I could tell he was starting to relax, that me talking about these mundane but personal things were distracting him at the very least. And maybe that was all he wanted. It was hard to believe he was actually interested in me. But I was willing to indulge him anyway.

“Would you like to see her?” I asked on a whim.

He rubbed his hands together like he did before, an eager look in his dark gaze. “Yes.”

I rifled through my bag for my phone. I searched through my photos for one of Sammy by the window looking out onto the street below. The sun caught in her striking orange eyes. I rose and walked over to him, stopping just a couple feet away and turning the screen over so he could see.

Emery leaned in further to get a better look. He examined the photo, then turned his gaze to me. “Lovely…” he said softly. “Tortoiseshell if I’m not mistaken?”

“That’s right.”

“Stunning.”

I was able to hold his gaze for only a few seconds before I had to turn away, heat drifting across my neck at the intensity of his stare, terrified that if he looked long and hard enough, he would see right through my façade. Would see the truth.

Trying to shake off his intimate gaze, I said, “She’s only two and a half. She’s the first I ever had. Dad wouldn’t let me have any pets as a kid.”

“Why not?”

“He claimed he was allergic. I think he just didn’t like them. Although…there was that one time. He brought home a rabbit that had only one eye. Said it was from a coworker. But it didn’t last even a night. I didn’t even get to name it. So…I don’t count him.”

Emery's demeanor changed, the tension returning. His hands turned to fists, and he leaned forward so much that he was bent over. “That’s too bad,” he mumbled. I could tell now he was trembling.

“Emery? Are you alright?”

He didn’t hear me. He turned his head instead to seemingly listen to that invisible person at his ear. He said something so low I didn’t hear it.

“What was that?”

He turned his head slowly toward me. “Rabbits don’t last very long. They never do.”

The way he said it was odd, his eyes narrowed on me, like twin fires in the growing dark. “Tell me more,” he asked.

I studied him uncertainly, then thought over what more I could tell him. “I like to go dancing sometimes. I like to grow orchids. I like camping in the fall.” He closed his eyes just listening to me now so I continued, “I once had a bad accident going down the slide of my school playground and cut my leg all the way open from knee to hip. Eighty-two stitches.” I thought of some possible controversial likes of mine, then concluded with, “One of my favorite books isWuthering Heights, and I like pineapple on pizza.”

He opened his eyes. “You’re joking.”

I couldn’t help smirking. “I don’t think it’s that bad. The zest of the pineapple mixed with the—”

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