Put Me Back Together(3)

They all nodded in unison. “No problem, glad to help,” Three said as he began to back away.

“I love cattens,” said One.

“Don’t forget Lori’s party tomorrow. Taylor will be there. See you there, man,” Two said as he ambled after the others.

Mr. Calm and Collected waved to them as they walked away, waiting until they were out of earshot to mutter, “Not likely.”

His arm was still around my shoulder, though he hardly seemed aware of it, unlike me, who felt every inch of him burning into my side like a fiery brand. I said, “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

He let go of my shoulder (finally!) but didn’t step away from me. Instead he gazed down at me, a smile slipping over his lips. I was practically shaking now, the proximity of this strange guy and all his heat getting the better of me. For a second I thought he was going to reach up and touch my cheek, but instead his fingers snagged on the zipper of my jacket.

“How’s he doing?” he said. “My cat back home would flip out if he was trapped outside on a night like this.”

Painfully conscious of how close his head was to mine and kind of irritated at the way he continued to invade my personal space, I looked down at the little orange head emerging from the neck of my jacket. “I think he’s…”

When he reached forward to smooth the fur on the little cat’s head, the tip of his finger dragged lightly across my neck. The feeling was electric and alarmed me so much that I uncrossed my arms and stepped away from him. The cat tumbled down the inside of my jacket and landed at our feet before scampering off again.

We both swore and ran after him, a chase that lasted a lot longer than the first one—the cat seemed to have smartened up—and when he was finally safe inside Mr. Calm and Collected’s jacket, we were both out of breath.

“I have to hand it to him,” he said. “He’s a determined little sucker. We’d better get him home.”

I adjusted the glasses on my face, raising my eyebrows at him. “You realize that isn’t actually my cat, right?”

“Well, he doesn’t have a collar, and he’s so skinny. I doubt he’s eaten for a while. Seems like he’s your cat now.” He grinned at me like this was my lucky day.

“I don’t want a cat,” I said, shaking my head forcefully. “Why don’t you take him?”

“I have two roommates who are an awful lot like that.” He gestured after the three idiots. “What’s the matter, Hero? You don’t need a furry friend?”

“No, I don’t need friends. I…no, I don’t need anything.” I glared at the ground. Had I actually just said that out loud?

He cocked his head and squinted at me, still grinning slightly. God, did this guy ever stop smiling? It was making me hostile.

“I recognize you from somewhere,” he said.

“Yeah, I recognize you, too,” I said distractedly, freely using my peripheral vision to scout out my escape route. “Aren’t you the…you know…goalie…quarterback…captain person?”

He burst out laughing. “What?” he said. “What sport do you think I play?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “The one with the ball?” Sports weren’t something I made any kind of an effort to keep track of. They lived in a dusty part of my brain along with high school science, French cooking, and other things I never thought about.

Still chuckling, he said, “I guess that rules out hockey.”

“I guess,” I said, looking pointedly out at the street now. “So I should probably go.”

“Great, where to?” he said, falling into step beside me.

“What?” I said sharply.

He looked at me with an expression of mock alarm, which dissolved quickly into a smile.


Again with the smile.

“No,” I corrected him. “I’m going home, and you should go to wherever it is you were going.”

“I’ve got your cat in my shirt, Hero,” he said. “Wherever you go, I go.”

Inside his shirt? For some reason I found myself blushing crimson, which really pissed me off.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” I snapped as we made our way up the street. He walked incredibly slowly, like he didn’t have a care in the world. People who walked like that in this kind of weather made no sense to me.

“You saved this cat from death-by-beer, didn’t you?” he said. “Sounds pretty heroic to me.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” I said. “Besides, you helped. You saved him, too.”

“So what are you saying, I’m your hero?” He gave me a warm look, showing off his dimples again.

Oh God, the dimples.

“I’m saying walk faster,” I said, powering ahead. “What the hell is wrong with you? It’s minus twenty-five out here.”

“Whatever you say,” he said from behind me.

The wind began to blow and I pulled my hood back up around my head, but I still heard him add, “Hero.”



At my apartment door I fiddled frantically with the lock, which had decided to choose this moment to be temperamental. Somehow I’d managed to not lose Mr. Calm and Collected on the street, at the door to my building, or on the stairs up to my floor. He was standing next to me right now, still holding the cat inside his clothes—though this was something I’d decided not to think about ever again—and was leaning down to examine my lock in the way of friendly, helpful neighbours. I was now using nearly all of my energy to try to think of a way to get rid of him and the cat.