Page 2 of The Goat in the Bedroom
“I don't have time for connecting with nature. I have to connect with accounting principles.”
“The accounting principles will still be there when you get back. Your sanity might not be.”
She looked at me for a long moment, and I watched the internal battle playing out on her face. The responsible part of her that wanted to keep studying versus the part that knew I was right.
“Fine,” she said finally. “But only because you're going to keep bothering me until I say yes, and that'll be more distracting than just going.”
“Correct.”
She threw a highlighter at my head, which I dodged easily. Good reflexes were useful both on and off the football field.
“Give me five minutes to make myself look like a human being,” she said, already heading toward the bathroom.
I had this planned down to the second. By the time we walked across campus to the quad, the animal sanctuary van would be there with a dozen baby goats, class would be set up with yoga mats, and Artie would get the surprise of her life.
Ten minutes later, we were crossing the quad and she still looked tired and stressed, yet somehow was absolutely beautiful, which was not a thought I was supposed to be having about my best friend.
But then she saw the goats.
Her face transformed from resignation to confusion to absolute wonder in the span of about three seconds. Her mouthdropped open, and she just stood there, staring at the pen full of tiny goats like she'd discovered buried treasure.
And fuck if that expression of pure joy didn't make me fall a little bit in love with her, which was a problem I definitely couldn't think about right now.
“Gryff,” she said slowly, walking toward me without taking her eyes off the animals. “Please tell me those are real.”
“What? I don't see anything,” I teased. “You’re probably hallucinating from all the vitamin D.”
“Are those...” she started, pointing at the portable pen full of baby goats that had been set up on the grass.
“Oh, those? Yeah. Baby goats,” I confirmed, trying not to look too smug about her reaction. “For baby goat yoga. Apparently it's a thing.”
“You did this?” Her voice had gone soft in that way that made something warm settle in my chest. She was pure joy, uncomplicated and bright. “This is... this is incredible.”
“Tempest and Trixie helped me arrange it with that sanctuary they volunteer at. But don't thank me yet. There's a distinct possibility one could pee on you. Or worse.”
“Oh my god,” Artie breathed beside me. “They're sosmol.”
“Don't get any ideas,” I warned, knowing that look. “You cannot adopt a goat.”
“I'm not going to adopt a goat.”
“You're thinking about adopting a goat.”
“I'm thinking about how cute they'd look in tiny rugby jerseys.”
“Artemis.”
She was already walking toward the pen like she was in a trance, drawn by the irresistible pull of small, fuzzy creatures. The goats started bleating in greeting, like they knew they'd found their person.
“Look at their little faces,” she said, crouching down next to the pen. “Oh my god, look at this one.”
She was pointing at a brown and white spotted goat who was pressed against the fence, trying to get as close to her as possible. The little guy was practically vibrating with excitement, making soft bleating sounds that seemed designed specifically to melt hearts.
“I think he likes you,” I said.
“I think I love him,” she replied without hesitation. “Look at those spots. He's like a tiny dalmatian but with hooves.”
Other students were starting to gather around, phones coming out to document what was clearly about to become the most InstaSnap-worthy yoga class in Denver State U history.
