Page 25 of Hell's Kitten

Expect when there’s no one else left to go and I step up, I see Tara out of the corner of my eye whispering to her cohorts. They all look me up and down and sneer like I’m little more than dirt on their shoes.

O,hhellno.

Spite and fury rush through me, and before I know what I’m doing, my feet are sprinting across the floor.

I launch myself into the air with a round-off into a bank handspring. And another. And another. Followed by a full twisting layout, ending by coming back the way I came with a cheeky front tuck. I stamp my feet onto the mat, sticking the landing right in the middle in front of the committee, my fists clenched so tightly that my fingernails are biting into my palms. I grit my teeth and glare directly at Tara.

There’s a moment where nobody moves a muscle. It’s Alannah who suddenly roars and claps with Zazzle a split second behind her. The rest of the room explodes, and several people run over to me, including Lakelyn, whose eyes are shining. “Jessie, that was incredible,” she says breathlessly.

I notice Tara and her cronies are clapping politely, but her expression is dangerous.

Chances are high that I’m going to pay for that sooner rather than later. I don’t know how, but in that moment, with the adrenaline pumping through me, I’m arrogant enough not to care.

Right now, I just want to get home and tell Nim all about it. That’s a dangerous rush all by itself. But much like the tumble pass I just pulled, I can’t bring myself to regret it.

CHAPTER 11

Nim

I’m goingout of my mind.

I meant what I said about Jessie being comfortable here and wearing what he wants. This is his home, at least for the time being. He needs space to be authentic, especially while he’s adjusting to his new class schedule and waiting to hear back from the cheerleading squad. His energy is all very fractious.

However, I’m becoming more and more convinced that he doesn’t even really know that he’s a kitten in the kinky sense or what that really means for him on several levels. He certainly hasno fucking cluewhat he’s doing to me.

Every day it’s the kitten ears, tiny shorts, and half a T-shirt. All I can see is long, creamy limbs and the way his muscles flex and stretch when he moves. There’s a happy trail on his defined stomach that draws my gaze down to forbidden territory. When he puts his headphones on so as not to disturb me with his music, those have kitten ears on as well, for heaven’s sake. He twirls and sings under his breath and generally brings sunshine into my world.

How did I live before him? How will I manage when he’s gone? I’m not just talking about how he does more than his fair share of chores around the apartment. I’m talking about me.He’s the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing I check on before I go to sleep. The cats split themselves between us at night. How sad are they going to be when their uncle Jessie moves on?

Of course I’m coping with this influx of complicated feelings by hiding from him as much as possible. Because I know a big part of what I’m experiencing is just good old-fashioned lust. It’s been forever since Brent, and hook-ups don’t really do it for me. I like to feel a connection to the person I’m intimate with. Besides, Paddle Creek was the last place I expected to find a kitten falling into my lap.

I came here because it was where a lot of my chapter had settled down. I didn’t really put two and two together that queer bikers might make a town queer. Or that they might have chosen the place because it was already open and accepting. The football coach being out and proud really has been a big influence around these parts.

Whatever the case, the result is the same. I actuallydidhave the prettiest kitty boy fall into my lap, and now with very little effort, he’s falling into my heart. All I want is for him to be happy and healthy. It’s my all-consuming mission. And the way his face lights up when I surprise him with food or appear with a blanket for him?

Priceless.

Right now, though. I’m in danger of wrestling him to the floor and pinning him there so he’llstoppacing the living room.

Admittedly, he’s behind me as I sit on the sofa, trying to watch TV. But I can feel him moving and hear him whispering along to whatever obnoxiously cheerful pop song he’s got blasting into his ears. His cat paw slippers are scuffing on the floor, and occasionally, he snaps his fingers in time to the beat only he can hear.

He’s just so…present.He’s everywhere. My cats’ eyes follow him as he walks up and down, their heads bobbing and their tails swishing. I can’t forget about him, even if I try.

Today is a Monday—my Saturday, essentially, as I have both Mondays and Tuesdays off. Usually, I’d wander down to the café anyway or volunteer at the rescue shelter where the café fosters its cats from. However, both this week and last week, I’ve found myself unable to leave the apartment. It seems such a terrible waste of my time with Jessie. But beyond cooking for him I’m not really sure how best to spend time with him. He’s so…sparkly and sweet. I doubt he’d want to hang out with me.

And yet he’s still here. I know he doesn’t have any classes for the rest of the day, as he told me so. I’m positive he’s made new friends already. In fact, he told me he’s become besties with a girl he met at the tryouts. They message all the time and have plans to go to that loud, shiny bar in town on Friday night.

But for now, he’s stillhere.

With me.

Unable to stand it any longer, I turn on the couch and look at him. He stops in his tracks, looking chagrined as he yanks his headphones around his neck. Immediately, I can hear the tinny beat and voices that sound like chipmunks to me from over here.

“Oh, no,” he says with a grimace. “I’m being annoying, aren’t I?”

He’s really not, so I shake my head. “Are you okay?” I ask pointedly.

Sighing, he pulls on his tail. Yes,tail.These small shorts have a glittery, fluffy, purply tail attached to his butt because apparently, he really does want to torture me to death.

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