By the time we get to my place, he’s opted to carry all the bags, leaving me to deal with the cat. As soon as I open the carrier, she darts out, heading straight for the sofa.
Gareth all but jumps behind me, dropping all the bags on the floor. “Motherfucking bitch!”
I throw my head back and laugh.
“It’s notthatfunny,” he grumbles, peeking out from behind me as the kitten hides under the sofa.
But, really, I love how he’s holding on to my waist, even if it’s to use me as a shield, he’s touching me without trying to choke, knife, or tase me.
Baby steps, right?
“It’s hilarious. Who knew the great Gareth Carson would be terrified of a tiny kitten?”
“She can do serious damage.”
“Oh, I’m sure. A real threat to humanity.”
“Stop laughing, Kayde! I mean it.”
He says that and yet he’s ogling me, as if he’s mesmerized.
He has these instances where he just looks at me, his lips parted and ears flushing a bit. I don’t think he’s aware of it, and I don’t want to draw attention to it or he’ll stop doing it.
As the laugh dies out, I face him. “I’ll give her some more food. Want to help?”
“No, thanks. I’ll go change.” He all but bolts in the direction of the bedroom.
Shaking my head, I set up a temporary litter box and put out food and water. The kitten, now a curious ball of energy, emerges from her hiding spot to eat before exploring her surroundings.
Meanwhile, I heat some milk and make Gareth a cup of his new strawberry hot chocolate.
A few moments later, Gareth comes out of the bedroom wearing black shorts and a white tee. He started leaving his stuff around after that time I first fucked him. He has a whole section in my closet now, and he keeps adding all his things to it.
Not that I mind.
He’s been around regularly for about two weeks, and in the span of that time, he’s been ordering all sorts of unnecessary stuff online that he uses once or twice, then loses interest.
It’s in his innate nature to get easily bored. Nothing can hold his interest for too long. Not possessions. Not relationships.
Not people.
Once something becomes ordinary, he just drops it.
Which is why his disappearance the past few days started a niggling doubt. He can’t possibly be bored of me.
He’s too obsessed with me, possessive of me, and—he would never admit this—craves my approval and affection too much.
So I need to figure out the reason behind the change.
My gaze follows him, admiring his form while he searches around for the cat.
“She’s behind the curtains,” I say.
“I don’t care.” He flops onto the sofa and I place the cup in front of him as he opens Netflix.
He’s been watching a lot of Korean dramas and shows lately, even while he scoffs at how ridiculous they are. But he still asks his cousin—Maya, I believe—for recs. I realized it’s because he’s trying to communicate with Ma Jina.
She said he sometimes sends her ridiculous Korean texts, and I don’t know why that made me smile.