Page 112 of Rules of Association

Still, even if he was a little sick of having to show up here all the time, Con wouldn’t get so tired that he’d outright leave me on the side of the road.

“Con?” I called out into the night. The summer air was no longer cool as we moved into late July. Months were slipping away in a blur of novelty and comfort. I couldn’t even count the number of times I had woken up early to train with Jenny and lost track of time, running later and later to get to Pau’s shop. The number of times I had left early to sneak into the back of her group lessons, either. And after the long days split between my growing interest in martial arts and my obligation to Pau’s shop, I found comfort in returning to Connor’s place and having dinner with him while we did literally whatever.

Some nights he worked on his computers, some nights we watched repetitive TV and some he even asked me to show him what I was learning during my time at the gym. Every night we spent together and almost the same amount of times Connor gave me a reason to question our “just friends” status.

He was still my friend, but some of the things he was doing were more than friendly. Like how he kissed the top of my head before he left the room or the fact that I woke up every morning with some form of Connor wrapped around me. His arm if he was still sleeping, his hand if he was grasping my shoulder to wake me up, and his big body if he decided he just needed a good morning hug.

He was sohandsywhen he wanted to be.

He’d even started to close the doors to the guest rooms so I couldn’t sleep anywhere other than his bed. And when I asked him about it, he just shrugged and said, “I like you in my bed.”

None of which was doing my already growing attachment (more like addiction) to this new side of him any good.

“Con!” I called again as my heart picked up speed.Where was he?

“Calm down, honey. I’m right over here,” his voice said from a place still unknown.

And another thing…

Just like the way Connor had of saying my names, “Ceci”, “Celestia”, and even his own personal “Cee”; the word “Honey” leaving his mouth seemed to be becoming my own personal serotonin. Like he knew just when to say it to put my mind at ease. And like always, it did just that.

Looking around, I edged deeper onto the sidewalk and looked both ways, still not seeing him. “Where?”

“Here, by your car,” he said, as he rose from a crouching position beside my wheel.

I strode up to him, ready to ask if we were going to cook or eat out tonight. I was tired, and I didn’t feel like cooking. But Connor was the one that usually cooked, so really what I meant was I didn’t feel like waiting around while he did that. I wanted food now.

I was about to tell him just that when all my breath left my lungs. Because in Connor’s arms as he turned around was the cutest, smallest, white and gray kitten. It couldn’t be any bigger than a melon, but somehow it looked even smaller as she snuggled into Connor’s large arms. Big gray eyes stared back at me from the other side of those arms and when she looked at me (I had decided on sight that she was a she), she opened her little kitten mouth and meowed the sweetest, little sound.

I think I gasped. Maybe I cooed. I definitely garbled.

Connor chuckled, “Speak words, Ceci.”

“I want her!” I said immediately.

His face changed instantly as he grumbled, “Speakdifferentwords.”

“Oh my god, where did you find her?” I asked, practically rushing them with my arms outstretched, ready to take my cat.

Con stepped back and moved her out of my grasp. I frowned. No, I scowled, opening my mouth to let him know exactly what I thought about him restricting my kitty snuggles. He just shook his head.

“Don’t touch. We don’t know if it’s diseased,” he instructed calmly.

“Butyou’reholding her,” I pointed out.

“I know I'm holding it,Captain Obvious.” He gave me a face and I could tell he must be tired and maybe hungry too just by the attitude he was giving me. So I didn’t give him attitude back, just letting him continue. “But if one of us is going to catch something from it, I’d rather it not be you.”

Pang! That was my heart beating out of my chest again. Don't mind it, it’s been doing that a lot lately.

Ignoring the bodily reaction Connor Ferguson enacted from me every minute on the hour, I crossed my arms and cocked a hip. “She’s not an it, Connor.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How would you know?”

“I just know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Check,” I raised an eyebrow motioning toward the sweet quiet thing.

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