Page 26 of Unless It's You
“I can help with that one. I’ve got a litter of kittens at my flat. They’re very cute.”
“Um, what?” She turns her whole body to me and stops walking,a little grin on her face, spreading her pink lips and making my stomach flip over. “You have kittens at your flat?”
“Is that weird?” I cock my head. “My flatmate is a foster for an animal rescue, so we have a room in our flat that’s just for kittens.”
“You have a whole extra room in your London flat and you give it to kittens?” Stella puts her fists on her hips and tilts her head. “No one has an extra room in London.”
“It’s a very small room. More like a large closet. It doesn’t even have a window. But we have a lamp that mimics the sun. They love to sleep under it.”
She laughs, and it’s this lovely melodic sound that’s like sugar and spices and delicious Christmas puddings. Yeah, it was the laugh that got me the night we kissed. The laugh and that stupid game she had us playing. The way she didn’t give a shite about what people thought. The way she didn’t try to be something else that night, she wasn’t flirting on purpose, she wasn’t trying to seduce me, she wasn’t blowing me off.
I know I have a goofy grin on my face, and I try to wipe it off and do my job as her advisor. When she stops laughing about the kitten room, she’s still smiling at me, and she touches my arm with one hand and points to the signs again.
But her fingers on my bare skin are like fire.
Maybe wecansurvive this month, as long as we don’t touch each other. I gently move my arm, but her hand remains.
Maybe we can be friends.
Or more than friends.
Then I remember Ben.
Fuck. Friends is a stretch. More than friends is not possible.
I fall into a comfortable step next to her. We walk together, perfectly natural, like wearefriends. I don’t hate it. It feels like we’re balancing a glass ball on top of a bike basket and at any moment, a bump will cause it to pop off and shatter on the path. I glance down at her and have the urge to grab her hand and entwineour fingers together, maybe pull her around until our fronts are pressed together, then see what happens from there.
“So, is the fifth item to go to London Zoo? Is your great-aunt forcing you to face some deep fear of zoo animals?”
Stella scrunches her face at me. “Forget about the fifth item. I... . Let’s not talk about it right now. Or ever.”
“That’s intriguing. I think you’ll have to, and as your ad?—”
“Hush. But I had an idea on the bus the other day of how to check off the adopt-an-animal item without adopting one for real.”
“Wait, what?” Her words bring me back to reality and hang in the air like a cloud of body odor after a rugby game. I trail Stella around a curve toward the polar bear enclosure. We stop in front of a fenced-in habitat. Two polar bears sleep on a shaded rock across the wide moat, a long, clear body of water stretched out in front of them.
She’s serious about cheating on this list.
“Cute little guys, aren’t they?” Stella pulls out her mobile to snap a selfie of herself with the bears in the background.
“You’re going to cheat on the whole thing?”
She pockets her mobile and turns to watch the bears, not making eye contact with me. “London Zoo lets you adopt an animal. Donate fifty quid and get an adoption certificate.”
I let out a huff. “Seriously?” A ball of queasiness rolls around my stomach.
“I don’twantto cheat on Aunt Evelyn’s list. I really don’t. But I also don’t want to be tied down with a pet. Or a husband, or children, or anything like that. No matter what she or anyone else says.” Stella’s facing the enclosure and seems to be talking to herself, or someone else. Definitely not me.
Where did that all come from? I thought we were talking about pets, and she drops the fact that she’s never going to have kids? Get married? All legitimate choices, and ones I don’t disagreewith, but it’s intriguing for her to bring them up now. What kind of baggage is this girl carrying?
But I have a clue. Ben told me a bit about their fights in the end.
Still,herbaggage can’t be as bad as mine.
It almost distracts me from the fact that she’s totally fucking up this bucket list. Not quite, though. The ball of queasiness turns to anger.
“I think you’ll regret it, Hart.”
