Page 39 of Stray for You

“And drinking a smoothie next to five litter boxes is better?”

“Yes,” he answers simply, as though oblivious to my sarcasm. Maybe he is. I’ve never been able to read this guy. “Anyway, want to tell me what’s going on with that aura of yours?”

“No, I do not.”

“You can pretend it isn’t happening, but I know you feel it,” he persists. “Aura changes like that aren’t things we can ignore, even if we don’t believe.”

“As it so happens, I don’t believe. Now move unless you want cat turd in that smoothie.”

River glances down at his smoothie, finishes it in one big gulp, and sets his empty water bottle on a counter beside flea and tick medication.

“Something good happened,” he says. “I get it. You don’t believe. I’m just a wacko. You’re going to keep on living your gray life. It’s fine, man. You don’t have to believe. The energy is out there either way, and your energy is reading yellow, yellow, yellow. I’m happy for you.”

“Even if that’s true, which it’s not, you wouldn’t know what you’re happy about.”

“I’m happy you’re happy,” River says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Whatever’s making you yellow, it’s the good stuff, that good life stuff. So congratulations.”

I roll my eyes again. “Fine. Whatever. Thank you,” I say.

I don’t mean it, but there doesn’t seem to be any other way to get him out of my way. The “thank you” works. River steps aside, gesturing to the staff door like a chauffeur showing me to a limo. Sadly, I’m not headed toward luxury, but straight out of the backof the shop to the smelly dumpsters in the alley behind it. I dump my paper bag of litter and return inside to wash my hands and get back to the coffee bar.

The counter with its mugs and pastries and coffee machines feels like safety after encountering River in the backroom. I wish he’d stop with the aura thing. My head is already a scrambled mess. I don’t need his woo-woo hippie nonsense messing me up even more.

Besides, what the hell does that even mean, “my aura is yellow?” It’s total nonsense. Even if auras were real, which they’re not, there is nothing that would make mine a happier color than it used to be. Nothing in my life has changed. I go to work. I go to band practice. I see Mom and Aunt Mary for dinner once in a while. Same old, same old.

The only thing that has disturbed my routine in a long, long time has been…

Julian.

I scrub a hand through my hair. There is absolutely no way I’m bringing auras into this mess with Julian. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Julian is back on the East Coast. I’m sure he’s got his next thrilling sales conference all lined up. He’ll fly to Houston or Sacramento or Cleveland and fuck every rep in a ten-mile radius.

Whatever. I don’t care. It’s not my life. I made questionable choices for one week, and now everything is back to normal. No auras. No Julian.

Except when I look at my phone, there’s a reply from Julian, and my heart skips at the sight.

We must be sharing a braincell today, the message says.

I open the text. A photo greets me. In the background sprawls the vague monochrome haze of New York City, a field of blocky gray like a talus field on a mountainside. And there in the foreground, the only thing in focus: A keychain of the EmpireState Building with the words “I Love New York” written under it. I can just make out Julian’s fingers holding up the trinket.

Chapter Twenty

Julian

I CAN’T STOP GRINNING at my phone.

I spent yesterday evening hunting for keychains and taking a trip up the Empire State Building. After the conversation with Mom on Sunday, I was buzzing with too much energy, too many thoughts. Expelling it by keeping that promise to Cam helped preserve my sanity. I never expected him to make good on our vow.

I sit in my cubicle smiling at my phone like an idiot. Cameron’s hand obscures one side of the image, his Space Needle keychain the only thing in focus. Behind it stretches a gray Seattle day, the clouds hanging low and making the blurry landscape even harder to discern.

He actually did it. I don’t know why it makes me so happy that he kept that stupid promise. It’s so small, so insignificant. A keychain and an elevator ride, that’s all it really is, but my heart is going nuts even as I recline in an ergonomic office chair.

A knock startles me from my thoughts. Brad leans a hip against the wall of my cubicle, arms crossed over his chest and a cocky grin on his face.

“What are you smiling about, Brooks? I didn’t think you kept in touch with your conquests once you got back home.”

I roll my eyes at him. “And how do you know this is a ‘conquest?’”

“Because you don’t smile like that unless there’s sexinvolved.”

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