Page 41 of Bad Boys Don’t Date Clumsy Girls

Chapter Sixteen

After school, I head to the shelter. I don’t volunteer during the week, but sometimes I stop to visit the animals. Today I need to cuddle with the new sweet little dog they got in.

Chloe looks up from the desk when I walk in. “Oh hey, Ava. Bad day?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“No, I just know you only come during the week when you need some good company.”

“That’s for sure.” I chuckle humorlessly. “Is Dot still back there?”

Chloe grins. “Surprisingly, she is. I’m glad she can bring you some comfort. And feel free to cuddle any of the others, too. They all need it. Poor things.”

I wave as I head into the back. The volume of potential adopting families doesn’t overwhelm the staff during the week, so they are easily able to portion out all the duties to keep the animals clean and exercised, which means when I enter patio Z to let Dot out of her kennel, there’s no one around, which is fine with me.

I open Dot’s kennel and the dog trots out, head and tail held high. She stands at my feet, looking up at me expectantly. So many of the animals we see at the shelter are from ill-fitting situations. Maybe a family adopted a dog that needs a lot of exercise, but they live in an apartment. Or sometimes the animals are relegated to the backyard and don’t get enough attention. But in Dot’s case, she was part of a group of dogs that were relocated after a hurricane separated her from her family. She spent time at a shelter near the weather event, hoping her family would claim her, but was put up for relocation in the hopes she could find a new ‘furever’ home.

Dot is slightly smaller than medium size. She has curly, black hair that is as soft as a stuffed animal, with a white blaze on her chest. Her ears are pointy, but they flop over at the top. She has a blunt nose and soulful brown eyes. Only the very tips of her toes are brushed in white, and the illusion somehow makes her look like she’s prancing like a reindeer when she trots. She’s well-behaved and even-tempered. I know she won’t be in the shelter long.

Lowering myself to the patio, I lean against the door of the supply closet. Dot licks my face in greeting, which tickles and makes me giggle. I wrap my arms around her neck and bury my face in the dog’s pillow-soft fur.

“I wish people could be as easy as dogs,” I say. Dot just pants. “See? You don’t even judge me or pity me. You’re just happy to see me.”

Dot lies down with her front legs draped over my legs. We sit together quietly, while I catalog all the things that are wrong in my life and contemplate how I might approach each problem. But no matter how I look at each issue, I can only see the problem, not the solution.

“You’re not much help, Dot,” I mumble, scratching the dog’s neck.

I can’t fix Mom or Grandma, so to save myself, I’ll have to move out as soon as possible. That means I need to get a job. However, I don’t want to start until after the end of the school year. And then there’s the fact that Joel is moving out. I can’t stop him from doing it. Nor would I want to if I could. With the facts lined out, I realize I’ll have to be extra diligent to avoid incidents like last night.

I look down at Dot and sigh heavily. Finally, there’s the matter of Dylan Scott. How did he become a problem in my life so quickly? I can’t even remember seeing him around school before he started volunteering at the shelter, and now, he seems a part of every thought I have – good or bad. He makes me smile one minute and growl with frustration the next. My pulse quickens whenever he’s nearby. Sometimes simply from a look he gives me. Other times because of something he does—like forgetting to close the gate and letting the dogs escape. And then there’s the problem that nobody has ever made me feel the heat of desire or the heat of shame like he has.

I sigh. The only thing that makes sense to me regarding Dylan is the need to keep him at an arm’s length. My life is complicated, and I don’t need to add to it.

Dot flops onto her side so that she’s stretched across my lap. I smile down at her and run my hand along her side. It blows me away that Dot went through such trials and insecurity but is still able to show me this kind of trust. Maybe because dogs seem to live in the now. I blink down at the dog and consider what is good in my life.

Number one is Joel. Hands down. I’m so lucky to have a big brother who stands with me against the toxic women in our lives. He’s always there for me, and I don’t think it will change completely after he moves out. Because he knows what it’s like, I have to trust he will still be there for me.

A close number two is Sam and Bek. A very close number two. Maybe tied for number one. What would I do without my two best friends? Together, they have provided a safe place for me to escape to, they’ve offered their shoulders for me to cry on more times than I care to admit, and they genuinely love me. Beyond a doubt.

And number three is stretched out across my lap right now. This place isn’t just a shelter for animals. It has been my hideout for almost two years now. I scan patio Z while Dot’s weight on my lap provides a sense of comfort. Sometimes there’s employee drama, but it doesn’t matter to me. I’m here for the animals. They truly need me. And I truly need them. Not all the animals appreciate what I do for them, but even Popeye, who ignores me completely, needs me to keep his space clean, let him out to exercise, and for the occasional feeding when staff is busy, or sparse.

As I outline the positives in my life, I feel my anxiety abate. I suck in a deep breath until my lungs expand to their fullest. I hold it for a few extra seconds, concentrating on the release of my anxieties, and then I let it seep slowly out of my body. Most of the remaining tension eases away and I lean my head against the door with a smile. Maybe I have more than a year left in that house, but if I stay focused on the good things in my life—and avoid adding more drama on top of what I already have at home—I’ll be okay.

I shift my sore bottom and Dot hops up, wagging her tail.

“Thanks for hanging with me,” I say. I give her one last rub down before putting her back into the kennel.

Chloe is stocking the small retail area of pet supplies when I re-enter the lobby. “You okay, girl?”

“I am, thanks.” I scrunch up my nose. “Thanks for letting me hang out. I know these aren’t trained emotional support animals, but I swear they could be.”

Chloe waves a hand at me. “You are welcome to love on the animals anytime it suits you, you know that. They need it as much as we do.”

I appreciate Chloe including herself in that statement. “See ya Saturday.”

“Unless I see you sooner.”

I walk the short quarter-mile home, enjoying the crisp, but bright late afternoon, and formulate a plan on when I can start applying for jobs. When my house comes into view, I’m surprised to see Joel’s car parked out front. He’s been picking up so many extra shifts at the restaurant, that I rarely see him before bedtime during the weekdays.

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