LEVEL 8

PLAYER TWO: FAUNA

My years working at the animal shelter lead me to a few observations:

Most masculine folks and boys were like puppies: simple, steadfast companions. Pups and boys don’t need a lot of explanation. You fed them, pet them, took them on walks and threw tennis balls, and they’d stay by your side. Predictable, slobbery, cause and effect relationships.

Most femmes and girls were like kittens: unpredictable, with equal capacity for violence and terror as for love and tenderness. Winning the trust of a kitten was tenuous but rewarding. And just like with cats, girls could offer a quick swipe of claws under the alluring pretense of soft fur and whiskers.

Harboring these animal facts helped me in my interactions with people, oddly enough.

Except with Remy.

No amount of study could prepare me for this drumming, sexy-as-sin temptation in the form of my boyfriend’s twin. We’d already been ten times more intimate than I’d ever been with anyone else, both physically and emotionally. For me, that was a lot. For me, trust didn’t come easily—though somehow, with Remy, trust was something more simple and less scary.

Remy was like a big, tough dog I knew wouldn’t bite me.

Remy was a cat prowling toward me with a mouse in its jaws. Was I part of the hunt, a basic function of instinct, or was I her chosen human? I couldn’t decipher them—couldn’t put this pierced and tattooed rocker in the cat room or the dog room. An unknown species to me. That was both fascinating and terrifying.

I was a different kind of creature too.

After unlatching the metal curtain, Remy pushed it back over the ceiling before jumping the pretzel counter and filling a giant domed cup with blue slushy. “The pretzels and the slushies never sleep.” She smirked, grabbing me a soft pretzel from a bin with a pair of tongs. “I keep telling Buck to donate the day-old pretzels to charity, but he’s too cheap to listen. So don’t feel bad that we’re technically stealing right now.”

I took my pretzel and slushie and joined my gamer-knight on the counter. “Thank you for feeding me, and, you know, not bailing…after.”

Remy took my slushy and took a sip before handing it back to me. “Are you used to people bailing on you after sex?”

I bit my lip, feeling my cheeks flush. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Remy scoffed. “That’s fucked up. Every encounter with me comes with aftercare, sweetheart. All the snacks, cuddles, and assurance my princess needs. You know, as long as you don’t log right off—Miss V for Valin healer-witch extrodinaire.”

“Turnip pulled the plug.”

“Your kitten?”

A small confirmation bloomed in my mind, and I hid my satisfied smile. “Yes. Also, I hate that game.”

“Going to tell me why? I’m a great listener.”

Remy’s gaze was earnest, etched in concern as she sat with her inked elbows on her knees. Someone shouldn’t be so effortlessly cool and kind all at the same time. Allure, mystery, and care coexisted and made up this amazing person. God, I was falling for my boyfriend’s sibling, wasn’t I?

“I don’t know… I’ve only really told one person.”

Remy’s jaw tensed before she nudged her knee against mine. “Don’t you want to tell daddy, though?”

My heart fluttered against my chest, and I nodded. “Okay… So, you know Prue?”

Someone shouted. “What the hell! You two are coming with us.”

“Shit.” Remy grabbed my arm. “How well do you run in those platform chucks?”

“Oh my God,” I laughed as she pulled me off the counter and held my hand. “It’s mall security. We are so dead.”

Two mall cops spoke into their walkie talkies before jogging towards us. “Hey, you two. Stop right there!”

“Nah, hang onto me, shortcake. I know all the secret passageways.” Remy winked as we ran and held tight onto my hand.

We turned a corner, and my cat headphones flew off in a flashing, panicking heap. “No! Not my kitty-ears!”

Mall security had called backup, and now, four men chased us. Remy dropped my palm and doubled back, grabbing my headphones and looping them around her neck before joining me again, unfazed by the demands of the hollering cop.

“You’re insane,” I cackled as I was pulled past a heavy door into a room that smelt of smoke and microwave popcorn. “Where are we?”

“Arcade break room,” Remy panted, lacing her fingers with mine. “Parking lot is right out here. We’re home free, jail bird.”

“You’re a bad influence,” I joked, though I couldn’t stop laughing. My chest and cheeks hurt from smiling, and my thighs ached from running and from the lingering phantom of Remy’s touch.

Remy walked me to my Vesper and removed my helmet from the handlebar before gently nudging it over my head. “Do you like it though?”

“So much,” I whispered. My confession was loaded, heavier than was probably warranted. Remy was a cool kid, a rocker, and they were probably just playing around with me. There was a huge chance I was getting my heart all twisted up in something that was just a game to her, a game I would surely lose—a game with additional players and quests I couldn’t even bring myself to explain.

With that devastating smile, she clicked my helmet closed under my chin. “I’ll be awaiting your online now so I know you’ve gotten home safe.”

“Stalker,” I breathed. My lips parted, and her gaze dropped. I wanted a kiss; God, I wanted a kiss so badly.

“Friends?” she asked, and I hated the way it sounded.

All I could do was nod. “Friends.”

Her jaw tensed again, and she let out a breath. My heart sank with disappointment as her lip rings glinted under the pale light of the mall’s parking deck. She took a step back, and it was as if the magnetic pull broke with the distance. No goodbye kiss, even though we’d just done so much more. Each time we saw each other or interacted the desire was more and more. We were like a forest fire irresponsibly set ablaze and burning down more space with each passing moment. Someone was bound to get hurt, and that person was destined to be me. It was always me who got my heart broken—by friends, by lovers, by folks who played at both. Those worries would consume me later…but in that moment, I didn’t care. I fired up my moped, and my throat tightened, realizing this brief wonderland of mall rats was just a fantasy. A wonderful, magical, fantasy. Remy likely had no idea how much tonight meant to me.

Black cat, golden retriever, or simply Remy Monroe?

I was tumbling down her rabbit hole either way.