Page 13 of Missiletoe
There was no point in second-guessing my thoughts and actions. I was who I was; I couldn’t hide it from Vix for my entire life. It was better to be open about all aspects of myself right away so that my bunny knew and could decide what he wanted to do with me.
As for thebeing too attached without really knowing one anotherissue, that was easily solved. I would simply get to know Vix better.
It would be like learning about animal care. Sure, it had been challenging, but I’d muddled my way through it. Learning on the fly was the best way to go about things, in my experience.
I was good at persistent studying. I could study Vix.
“Hello…Earth to Paris.” Baz’s voice intruded on my thoughts, bringing me back to the present. “This is our stop, big guy.”
Once he caught my attention, Baz got off the elevator, and we entered a completely different aesthetic from the chrome and concrete of the basement and elevator.
It could only be described as shabby chic. Like a herd of college students had put their mark on the place and then stampeded away without worrying about maintenance.
The hallway the elevator opened to was littered with dozens of lamps of every shape and size. All of them were colorful and threw a rainbow of soft light over the old-fashioned wood paneling on the walls.
Not that there was much wall to be seen. Every square inch seemed to be covered in paintings, scarves, rusty tools so old they could be considered art, and piles of shiny, broken pottery stacked up on decorative tables.
It should have looked like junk, but it was done with such an eye for detail that it came off as beautiful rather than as a jumbled mess. It was like stepping into a junk collector’s paradise.
A large part of the wall was dominated by a massive, three-paneled painting of a tree covered with pink flowers. It was pretty, but not half as pretty as my bunny’s eyes.
I hoped I’d get to see them again soon. It had been too long since the brief glimpse I’d gotten.
I touched his soft cheek and noted that, instead of smooth skin or the faint bristle of a five o’clock shadow, it was lightly covered in baby-fine hair, much like you’d usually see on a woman's face.
“How old is he?”
“Is that really your business?” The question might have been pointy, but Baz’s tone was playful.
Whatever had happened in the basement had seemed to change his wary distrust of me. I liked the playful version of him much more, and that was a good thing. It was obvious that Baz was important to Vix, so it would be good if I liked him.
“Yes,” I said simply. “It is.”
“We’re both twenty-one. And our birthday is in January.”
“You share a birthday? But you aren’t brothers…” I’d rather they were brothers. It would make it easier for me to like Baz.
“Nope!” Baz said merrily. Then he gave me a mischievous look that had his popularity meter with me dip dramatically. “But we are very,veryclose.”
Baz’s meter bottomed out with that last comment, and I couldn’t stop the scowl from forming on my face.
“Don’t give me that look. Your friends aren’t here to back you up anymore.”
I snorted, and Baz bristled, saying, “Don’t underestimate me because of my size. I can promise you that you’ll regret it.”
“I won’t underestimate you,” I promised him. “You’ve already shown me what you are.”
“And what’s that?”
“A killer,” I answered honestly.
Baz’s eyes went predator-bright, and they reflected all the colors of the lamps illuminating the hallway. His fingers twitched, and I knew he was thinking about producing a weapon.
“I want to put Vix down if we’re going to continue this conversation,” I said.
“His room is right here.” Baz gestured to a blank section on the wall and he put his palm on it. It slid open at his touch, and the light in the room turned on automatically as we entered.
The room was as eclectic as the hallway and nearly as long. Every bit of counter space was crowded with gadgets and gizmos in various stages of assembly, and not a single one appeared to be complete. There was a beauty to the chaos, much like the hallway.
