Page 7 of Pet Project

7

TOBY

Shiloh needs me.

I didn’t know Lucky was staying home today. If I knew that, I would have skipped my eight a.m. culinary class and gotten to Wrenshaw earlier. Tuesdays are usually fine. I leave the house at seven for my class at the community college, and Lucky takes Shiloh for their nine o’clock lit course. We all meet up at eleven for lunch with Matt and then I take care of my kitten until his last class of the day at three. Then the professor gives us a ride so that Lucky doesn’t have to wait around for us.

My kitten needed me this morning, and I wasn’t there.

Occasionally, the ride share drivers don’t want to come out to the community college. It’s tough relying on them, but I learned very quickly when I was sixteen that me and driving are not a good combination. I wrecked three cars before I was kicked out of driver’s ed in highschool. I call it my squirrel brain, but I think the official diagnosis would be ADHD if I ever bothered to get tested.

Focus, Toby!

As soon as the car pulls up outside of the coffee shop, I try to jump out. Slamming back into the seat, I can feel the heat creep up on my face while I reach down to unbuckle the seat belt. The driver somehow manages to limit his amusement to a slight crinkle around his eyes, so he’s going to get a good tip for this. I might be embarrassed, but this is far from the worst thing I’ve done in the backseat of a car.

Racing into the coffee shop, I wince as the door makes a loud thud against the door stop thing and something from above goes flying halfway across the room. My brain takes a second to catch up to the fact that I just broke the damn bell off the door as I watch it roll toward the counter and the hot owner, jingling all the way.

He can jingle my balls any day of the week.

The flush that went away only a minute ago comes rushing back with a vengeance. Reaching down, I try to pick up the bell, but somehow manage to kick it instead. I spend gods only know how long kicking and chasing the damn thing around the shop, but the sound of a sharp whistle makes me stop.

Oh, shit! I dropped into pupspace in the middle of a damn coffee shop. In the middle ofhiscoffee shop.

I might as well change my ethnicity to tomato at this point.

“Over here, Toby,” Professor Barnes… Matt calls out. I am really struggling with the whole being friends with myprofessor thing. At least I’m not in any of his classes this semester. That would be really weird with him boning one of my best friends and all.

Standing up, I brush my hands off on my shorts and creep over to the corner where my friends are sitting with some old guy. If it wasn’t for the fact that I already know most of Shiloh’s back story and family history, I would think he was my kitten’s gramps with the way they’re sitting and smiling at each other. But Shy has no blood family anymore.

“Toby, I want you to meet Mr. Jones,” Kitten says with an arm wrapped around the old guy’s shoulders. “He lived next door to Mama and taught me all kinds of fun things when I was little.”

“I taught you nothing, young man,” he chuckles. “Plausible deniability is a thing, you know. Pleasure to meet you, Toby.”

I take the old guy’s outstretched hand and give it a shake. It’s only polite, even if the green eyed monster is screaming inside of me because my Shiloh is smiling at him with no shadows in his eyes.

That’s supposed to be my smile. And the fact that he’s able to speak about his mama with this man without the fear…

“Nice to meet you, Sir,” I say even though a part of me doesn’t mean it. “How do you know Shiloh?”

Shy chuckles as he pulls me down into the chair on the other side of him. “I just told you, Toby. He lived next door. He… Mama let me stay with him when… Mr. Jones was my de-facto babysitter.”

I’m torn at the sick sense of satisfaction that this old guy isn’t the magic cure-all I thought he was. Why the fuck am I pleased that my kitten is uncomfortable?

It’s because it means that this old guy isn’t more important than me. Kitten still needs me the most.

“Squirrel brain,” I mutter and take a lick of the whipped cream on top of Shiloh’s drink. He never knows what to order and ends up with some overly complicated coffee that he doesn’t even like. At least today, he got something in his wheelhouse. Cookies and cream is one of his favorite flavors. I’m constantly finding cookie crumbs in our bed.

“Toby is my best friend.”

I look at the old man to determine how he feels about it, but don’t think I did a good enough job hiding the flash of pain being called the ‘best friend’ instead of what I really want. Pitying eyes meet mine and for a second, I want to run. Away from here or to a safe place to start over, I’m not sure which. But one thing is for certain, my heart isn’t leaving Shiloh.

8

DONNIE

Thank heavens the damn bell came down. I have hated that thing from the moment I first stepped foot in the shop five years ago. For the first few months, it was the signal that I was going to get sneered at or yelled at for my part in what happened to Lew…erhm, Matt’s boyfriend back then. Over time, I managed to hide the cringe, but the feeling of shame and tension never went away. It’s been forever linked to the damned jangling of that bell.

Watching the bell rolling all over the floor with the adorable man chasing it around on all fours was almost cathartic to witness. I’ve seen the guy in here before a few times. Each time he graces me with his presence, he definitely makes it memorable.

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