Page 15 of Pet Project

I swear I can feel my eyebrows meet my hairline. Pet play?

19

SHILOH

Hiding out in my cave in the basement is usually calming, but today it just makes me feel like something is missing. Toby took off without a word. He just left after his meeting with the dean, taking an Uber back to the house. How do I make him realize I still need him without sounding like a pathetic freak?

Or maybe he doesn’t want me around anymore…

That thought makes me curl into as tiny of a ball as I can manage with my five foot ten inches of gangly arms and legs. I have what they would call a runner’s body which is surprisingly conducive to tucking myself away into smaller spaces.

Surrounded by my blankets and pillows, I cry myself to sleep with the realization that I’m going to lose him after all. Even if I could somehow manage to get over the shit that Michael put me through, today only proves that Toby needs more than I can give him. All I manage to bring him is pain and anxiety.

The feel of a warm hand massaging my hip slowly brings me back to the land of the living. I’m halfway into my kitten headspace, but I completely snap out of it when I recognize the touch asnotthe one person I want to pet me. My hand slaps out, seemingly of its own volition, to swipe the offending hand away.

“Welcome back, Kitten,” Eric says with a smile in his voice. “Are you going to be human for me or is this a time for me to let you stay kitty cat for a while?”

Stretching out on my pillows, I let my brain switch back online even though I would disappear into being a cat forever if I could. I’ve fantasized so many times that shifters were real and I could have a fated mate out there to love and protect me. Hell, I was fantasizing about that way back before I ever discovered that gay werewolf romances were a thing.

“Hey Eric,” I mumble as I lay my head in his lap. I’m not completely ready to be a person just yet. “It was a bad day. I thought… Toby almost got expelled because I’ve been so worked up. I’ve been thinking about moving into your old room to give him some space.”

We sit in silence for a while, Eric gently running his fingers over my braids, occasionally scraping his nails along the exposed places on my scalp. It’s soothing in a way that nothing else is and I find myself tilting my head to follow his hand when he pulls it away.

“I need you fully out of kitten space for this convo, kitty cat. Can you do that?”

Sitting up, I nod my head and wipe the back of my hand across my cheeks to get rid of any lingering tearsthat might be there. I don’t want to have this talk, but if anyone in the house would understand, it would be Eric.

“I can’t forget about the last time I saw Michael… before this summer, I mean.”

Instead of asking me to explain, he just pulls me into a hug. “It will be alright, Shy. He won’t ever get to you again. We won’t let him.”

Sniffling back the tears that spring up with his statement, I can’t help but worry. That’s the problem. Michael always gets me back, and he’ll destroy anyone who gets in his way.

20

DONNIE

It’s been a week since the fight, and I haven’t seen Shiloh or Toby once since. Jess tells me they’ve been in when I’m not around, and Lucky seems to be the designated coffee fetcher when I am in my shop. Such is the case today.

“Buying for all three today?” I ask him when he reaches the front of the line. At least the boy has the decency to look embarrassed when he gives me a quick nod. “Let them know I’m not mad at them, alright? They don’t have to worry about coming in when I’m here.”

Lucky looks up at me in confusion. “Why would you be mad at them? Did they do something naughty?”

The wording of his question and the way he starts rubbing the corner of his shirt between his fingers makes me tense. When Matt gave me the breakdown on the various kinds of kinks that he’s seen in and around the people who live in the house across the street, he mentioned something about age play and age regression.I wasn’t sure at the time who might fall into that category, but I’m pretty sure I’m seeing it now.

“Go sit at my special table, Lucky. I’ll bring the drinks over once I clear this line,” I tell him, handing him the pack of crayons I keep behind the counter for the few kids that come in around family visit days. His eyes go wide at the sight, but he follows my instructions, pulling out a coloring book from his backpack as soon as his bottom hits the chair.

It takes about ten minutes to clear the line before I can go over to the table I keep reserved for my friends, half hidden by the counter. I spend a couple moments just observing the young man as he sucks his thumb and colors what looks like cartoon animals in various professional attire. He seems to pay special attention to the cats and dogs on the page he’s working on.

“That’s cute,” I say as I sit down across from him. “Are you coloring it for someone special?”

Popping his thumb out of his mouth, he doesn’t look up to answer, but keeps coloring with intention. “Shy-Shy and Toby have been sad a lot. This is for them,” he tells me before he looks up into my face.

“But don’t tell Daddy. I don’t want him to be sad that I gave someone else one of my pretty pictures.”

Having said his piece, he returns his concentration to the page in front of him.

Shy-Shy? That must be Shiloh.

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