10. Novemberween

ten

Violet

Iopen the last suite in the aisle and poke my head inside to see Murphy, a dark brown Newfoundland, fast asleep on his sofa-shaped bed. Then, I step back and twist the latch to secure it shut.

Furry Friends feels kind of eerie after closing, but not in a haunted type of way. It's just so distinctly opposite to how it feels during the day, or even in the mornings as we prepare to open. Usually, it's loud and lively. Barks echo throughout the building in a way that can become overwhelming at times, dogs voicing their excitement to eat breakfast and be let out of their rooms. Even when they're all in their playgroups, there's light and sound and motion. But in the evening, when everyone has eaten and they're all exhausted from the hours of stimulation, all you can hear are slight snores from some of the brachycephalic pups.

I stay after hours rather frequently these days. It's a lot easier to get some of the smaller, more tedious things done then, like cleaning the air vents, scrubbing out the shop vac, or restocking supplies, which is what I'm doing now. Another upside is that I don't have to be stuck in my house alone. I'd rather be alone here than be reminded of why I'm alone there. With either option, after six-thirty PM, I will always be given the silence needed to let my brain go haywire. I really try not to give in to that silence.

Usually, I'm good at it. I just keep myself busy, keep talking to people and letting my brain fill with useless information so it runs out of space to think about anything important. It's how I can stay calm, no matter how bad the situation is. I just distract myself, or I let others distract me for me. Even when I found out Mallory had been cheating, I didn't yell or scream or cry. I simply turned on the TV and asked her to leave. After a little pushback, she did.

But Cameron Miller doesn't believe in "a little" pushback. In fact, the only "little" thing about her is her height.

She has a big attitude, a bigger ass, and a giant map to my fucking buttons. She has to, because she managed to press just the right ones to get me to open my mouth and say something I shouldn't have.

And now, she won't even look at me.

That was normal, in the beginning. It was easier to pretend nothing happened if we silently agreed to avoid one another. But I couldn't avoid her forever, I knew that. So, I started coming around, and Cam started letting me.

But then she pushed me to open my mouth, and now, we're starting over. That's how it seems, at least. And I guess, really, I can't blame it entirely on her. She may have pushed me to make a snarky comment about that night at Monsey's, but I asked why she left all on my own. It was a question begging to be answered. I considered going back to the bar and trying again. But I couldn't do that without knowing what I did wrong the first time.

Or I guess now, what I didn't.

Still, I can't help but feel gross. Like Cam's avoiding me because I made her uncomfortable. She'd have every reason to feel that way. It doesn't matter what buttons she was pressing. I shouldn't have said it. Any of it.

After peeling plastic grocery bags off the gallons of KennelSol I asked Avery to pick up earlier in the day, I place them tidily on the rickety wire shelves in the storage room. The metal clangs as the heavy bottles drag against the wires, and I form neat rows of chemicals.

Usually, I would just toss them onto the shelf and be done with it. But it's hard once it starts, silencing your thoughts. The ones that make you wonder why you ever thought you could have a one-night stand in the first place. My gaze darts over to the door when a loud chime pierces the silence. Then another. Then another.

I know that sound. That's the sound of the supply closet being unlocked from the outside.

I'm not usually one to get scared of things like this, but that's too fucking creepy. Nobody else should be here right now, and—

Beep.

That's the last tone in the sequence. The lock clicks, and the door handle slowly turns downward. My heart pounds inside of my chest so hard I can hear it, but my hands stay steady. Instinctively, I grab the first weapon I can find.

A broken mop handle.

The door creaks open, and I'm ready to pounce when the woman in front of me lets out the loudest, most ear-piercing scream I have ever heard in my entire life.

Oh. Wait. That was me.

Cam jumps back, completely startled as she clutches her chest. She breathes out slowly when she recognizes me. Then, she bursts into side-aching laughter.

"Fuck!"

My head collapses into my hands, my chest heaving as I squeeze my temples, eyes clamped shut. Cam continues laughing and even though I've been curious as to what her laughter sounds like, I can't find any humor in the situation at this moment in time.

"It isn't funny," I bark, letting out a controlled breath. My eyes dart up to Cam, and now, she's biting her lip hard, which I think is her best attempt to hold in her laughter.

She looks so cute, her cheeks all red and her eyes teary. That stupid fucking dimple makes its way to the corner of her mouth, and I swear it exists just to taunt me. The laughter bursts back out of her like a flame, but this time, the tension in my body eases, and I start shaking my head, laughing along with her.

"You scared the shit out of me," I say, letting my body ease into the final stages of relaxation. Cam's eyebrows shoot up.

"You were scared? You were about to stab me with a mop handle!"

I grimace, clicking my tongue to the roof of my mouth. "Well, yeah! I mean—" I gesture to the room around us. "I thought I was the only one here! We closed like, an hour ago."

Cam leans against the wall, tilting her head as she listens to my excuses as to why I was fully planning to fight Michael Myers in the Furry Friends storage closet.

"I had a lot of cleaning to do," she explains. "I haven't done a deep clean this week, and you guys," she points a finger to the center of my chest, "don't have any vent circulation in there. So all the hair just sticks to the walls."

"Oh well." I put my hands up like a sarcastic surrender. "Let me just hop right on that."

The words come out satirical, but I actually do want to "hop right on that," if it's causing an issue for her. I want Cam to be happy here. She does an amazing job, and even though she never interacts with the customers, they all rave about how much they love her. The goal is to keep her from going anywhere. That way, the customers stay happy, and I have the money to pay Avery to keep me sane.

Cam lets out a soft chuckle but doesn't say anything in response. Her laughter hangs in the air for a moment, then slowly dissolves into the space around us. The silence grows steadily, thickening with every moment.

"I'm—" I start to speak before I realize that, if I say what's sitting on the tip of my tongue, I'll be breaking the promise I made the night before. When I said I'd never bring it up again. When I said I'd leave her alone.

But I'm not bringing it up for answers. There's no ulterior motive to get back at her or beg for the truth. I just want to apologize for yesterday, for that day in the salon. For all of it.

"I'm sorry, if I made you uncomfortable," I say, stepping closer to look her in the eye. "I never should have said any of that yesterday, and I know I'm not supposed to bring it up now. But it was really unprofessional of me, and I just—" Cam's gaze flicks up to me, looking intently through those soft brown eyelashes. I swallow. "I would hate to put someone in a situation they aren't comfortable in."

Cam's head bobs as she nods slowly, the corners of her lips subtly turning upwards. She lets a stream of air flow out of her mouth, and it brushes against my lips, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. I take a quiet step back.

"You didn't make me uncomfortable," she says quickly. Her throat tightens as she swallows, her chest sinking down as all the air squeezes out of her lungs.

"I didn't?"

Cam shakes her head, and relief washes over me like a rainstorm, doubt dripping off my body and flowing into the gutter. I don't like believing people, especially people I barely know. But I can't force the doubt to return to my body. Cam always says what she's thinking. She had no trouble voicing her disapproval when I spilled that drink on her dress, nor when I mentioned her car situation yesterday. So really, I have every reason to believe her now.

"Oh good. Because I really thought... Well, I had been kind of working in silence for a while, trying to tidy up around here and I started to think that maybe I did."

Cam blinks slowly, that shallow dimple deepening with each word that comes from my mouth. She doesn't say anything, but I know she has something to say. Cameron Miller doesn't just smile for anyone. It's hard work, to earn that dimpled dream. I don't know what I did to deserve it.

"What?" I ask. Cam's head tilts slightly, her smile fading but not quite entirely.

"What do you mean ‘what'?"

My gaze narrows, like if I squint hard enough, I'll be able to see through her eyes and into her brain.

"There's something you're not saying."

Cam shakes her head, a smiling scoff slipping through her lips. "I don't know what you're talking about. If I have something to say, I say it."

"That's how I know."

Cam's eyes scan mine, in an almost intimidating way. But I don't give in. I stare right back, forcing the muscles in my face to harden.

"We can stay here all night, Sparky. I'm not busy."

And with that comment, Cam breaks. She huffs out a laugh, her gaze dropping mine as she bites the insides of her blushing cheeks.

"You didn't make me uncomfortable. That's all."

After a quiet beat, she glances up at me. I stay stagnant, still not breaking my stare.

"And?"

Another uncomfortable laugh slips through her lips, her tongue pressing against the inside of her lower lip.

"And nothing. That's it."

I don't believe her, not one bit. But I'm also not going to force a confession out of her. If she doesn't want to tell me what's on her mind, that's her decision, and I have to respect it.

"Okay," I nod, turning back to the shelves. I adjust the bottles in front of me, even though they're already lined up. "I liked that about you, but if you don't want to tell me, that's just fine."

Out of the corner of my eye, Cam's brows furrow, her arms crossing over her chest. I fight back a smile as I keep pretending to straighten out gallons of chemicals.

"Liked what?"

I shrug, still staring forward.

"What, Violet?" she repeats, this time more desperate. My lips twitch up, and I'm forced to look at her.

"That you always say what's on your mind," I say casually. "But I guess there's times you can't. I mean, if I said everything I thought, there'd definitely be a problem."

I chuckle, shaking my head at the thought, but Cam's brows raise. She steps closer to me.

"Like what?" she asks, her lips parted just slightly. My quiet laughter stops abruptly when my eyes land onto hers. A tightening forms in my chest as I fall into those dark brown eyes. I suck in a breath.

"Nothing. I just meant—"

"No," Cam says firmly. "You can't try to persuade me to tell you what's on my mind when you won't tell me what's on yours."

"I didn't say there was something on my mind."

"Maybe not, but you said that, when there is, it's something you can't say out loud."

I let out an uncomfortable laugh as Cam takes another step closer to me. Her arm brushes against mine, and goosebumps wash over my skin.

"Sure, but that goes for everyone. I mean, you're essentially saying the same thing right now."

Cam's lips tug at the corners, though I don't think she means for them to. Her eyes drop to the floor, the warmth from her skin still radiating against mine.

"That's because what I'm thinking isn't something you say. It's something you do."

She looks up, and her lashes pin to her brow bone as her eyes lock onto mine. A pink tint rushes to her cheeks, and her breath becomes shaky. I tilt my head, confused.

"But you can still say it. Like, I can say ‘I am thinking about walking to the store.' but it doesn't mean I have to actually walk to th—"

My words stop as I'm cut off by a warm, delicate pair of familiar lips. They lock between mine gently, pressing into me with just the right amount of pressure to make my mouth part.

Oh. I get it now.

I sigh softly, melting into the tender touch. But after not nearly long enough, Cam pulls back, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed.

"Fuck, I—" she mutters, stepping backwards into the wall. "I—"

I don't care what she's about to say, mostly because it's probably something along the lines of "I'm sorry." And nobody with lips like that should ever apologize for pressing them to mine.

My hand snakes around her waist and pulls her body into me. Then, my mouth crashes back into hers. Cam shudders, her fingers gripping the front of my shirt desperately as our lips intertwine again. She pulls back softly, and I can feel the vibrations of her whisper against my skin.

"What about policy?" she asks, her breath soft. I look down at her lips, before flicking my gaze back to her anxious eyes desperately.

5"Fuck policy."