Chapter Eight
R owan was our designated driver, staying sober all night, and he herded us to the car when he decided the level of drunkenness had reached critical mass.
I eyed the transparent foil spread over the back seats and had to blink the haze of alcohol from my eyes to make sure I was really seeing this.
“Oh, it’s for the paint!” I said triumphantly.
“Yeah, good job, detective,” Chester sniggered, then made an impromptu twirl as if he still didn’t have enough after all that dancing.
“Inside,” Rowan prompted, a cleaning rag in his hands as he tried to get rid of as much paint as possible off his hands.
Elijah slid in quietly while Chester was drunkenly focused on getting some entirely too complicated dance move right, which only resulted in him wobbling on his one foot and nearly braining himself against the pavement. Rowan caught Chester in time and pushed him inside after making sure I slid into the middle seat.
With the middle-of-night reduction in traffic the trip back took us only half an hour, but it was enough for me to doze off. I was tired after so many hours of partying.
I woke in the middle of the ride to Chester drooling on my shoulder and Elijah looking at me longingly. On impulse, I pulled the brown-haired man so that he could lay his head on my shoulder as well, then promptly went back to sleep.
The less said about us getting out of the car and up the stairs to our apartments the better.
Rowan left me in my apartment to deal with his roommates, only to return a few minutes later and make me take a vitamin B complex pill and drink a full glass of water in hopes of stewing off my hangover.
I felt a little more human after he left, but still not good enough to get all the paint off me, knowing it would involve washing my long, blond hair and a lot of scrubbing. Just the idea made me nauseous. With that in mind, I decided on the way of least effort and only washed my hands and face then chucked my good pillows, the Goku dakimakura, and the white duvet to the floor, deciding one of my old pillows, a ratty blanket, and the bedsheet were acceptable casualties.
My eyes were already closing when I heard a sound and peered over the bed.
“Meow!” Marshmallow said loudly. He was usually such a polite cat. What was with this noise? Was this punishment from the gods, sent to worsen the pounding in my head?
“Shh, shh, come here if you want,” I potted the space next to me.
The fluffy cloud readied himself to jump… only to fail short of its destination. My eyebrows rose at the sound of the claws scratching over the wooden side of the bed and the pitiful meowing.
I watched the ungraceful attempts at scrambling onto the bed, transfixed.
“What, are you drunk as well?” I joked. It was as if the Pers suddenly had four left feet.
In the end, I bent over the edge of the bed, ignoring how the world swirled around me, to pick the cat up and cuddle him close.
I fell asleep to his machine-gun-loud purring.
When I saw the white cat after I woke up, I laughed so hard the sound stabbed straight into my hungover brain.
Marshmallow looked at me, all disgruntled.
“Well, I thought those of us who were drinking would be the ones regretting their choices today, but I see you are a strong contender, Marshmallow.”
The usually pristine white cat was now rainbow-colored. The leftover paint on my body had rubbed all over his fur during the night when we snuggled close.
“You look so cute,” I cooed at the poor animal, then whipped my phone out to take pictures.
I only got a single good photo before Marshmallow spotted what I was doing and hid under the bed.
“Hey, there’s no need for that,” I tried to soothe the now grumpy cat and lure him out. “How about I take responsibility, hmm? I got you all dirty, so I can clean you up.”
The squished face peeked out from under the bed and Marshmallow made a run… to the bathroom, instead of out the balcony door. Huh. Weird. Did he understand me? Maybe that meant he was one of those rare cats who liked water and I wouldn’t have to wrestle with him to get him back to his normal coloring.
I grabbed an additional stack of towels and entered the bathroom to see Marshmallow sitting primly on the bath runner rug. After checking the water temperature, I filled the tub just enough to submerge the white kitty just a little, careful not to scare him. I shouldn’t have worried: when I scooped the fluffy cat up and deposited him in the water he took it with calm, resigned dignity and let me clean him as much as it was possible.
I tried not to snicker at the typical wet cat look, but it was impossible when Marshmallow, as it turned out, was 80% fluff. The cat gave me a grumpy mrrph, looking pretty miserable as the water dripped down his fur.
“It will be alright,” I cooed and pressed a kiss to his forehead as I took him out of the bathtub and started drying him with a towel. There was only so much I could do this way, but a more thorough date with a dryer had to wait until I could get dry as well.
I let the dirty water run and bundled Marshmallow into a cozy towel burrito. He gave me a slow blink of satisfaction and I nearly squealed at getting the honor of this expression of cat affection being directed at me. Marshmallow closed his eyes, purring.
“Such a calm, precious kitty,” I praised. “Now, just wait here like a good boy while I shower.”
The cat’s eyes snapped open just in time to see me shuck the crop top and the bra in one go. Ugh, I hated sleeping in my bra. Now I had marks from where the fabric bit into my skin. My gaze drifted to my right boob, where another kind of mark resided. I smiled to myself at the sight of the streaks of red paint Chester’s fingers left behind.
A crash sound reverberated in the bathroom.
“Hey! I said to stay in place,” I scolded the cat, who just threw a bottle of shampoo over the edge of the cupboard he was sitting on while trying to escape from the towel burrito. “I will let you out in ten minutes.”
Not trusting the cat to not roll off the high place, I bundled him in one more towel and put him between the cupboard and the washing basket, hoping that was going to keep him still for the time I needed. Satisfied with my brilliant plan, I hopped into the shower and gave myself a perfunctory scrub, washing my hair only once instead of doing my four-step routine. That meant that likely some of the stubborn paint was going to remain on me, but I could tackle this again when I didn’t have a guest waiting for me.
I emerged from the shower naked and wet. Marshmallow made a sound like he was dying.
“Just a second, precious,” I fretted, forgoing getting dressed properly and just slinging a towel around myself in my hurry to finish tending to the cat.
A dryer in my hand, I freed Marshmallow from the burrito prison.
Was he mad at me? The kitty turned his head in the other direction whenever I stepped into his line of sight. Oh well, I was going to have to work hard to regain his trust. Right now, all I could do was send the waves of heated air in his direction and card my fingers through the fur to hasten the process and prevent any tangles. Fifteen minutes later we were back to a fluffy kitty. In fact, Marshmallow looked like he had unlocked a new level of fluffiness.
“A little sheep, a cloud, a cotton ball,” I sing-songed to him, delighted at how soft he felt and looked. “You’re like new. No one could even guess you became a rainbow cloud for a moment… but this photo is too good not to share.”
Marshmallow’s ears stood up to attention in alarm, and I swear he tried to prevent me from using my phone to send the photo out. Despite the sabotage, I managed to send a photo to Rowan.
Lisa:
Just look at hiiim!
Rowan:
[laughing emoji] [rainbow emoji] [skull emoji]
Did Rowan communicate solely via emojis when using a phone? This needed thorough testing! I grinned widely, starting a rapid exchange of texts with mister tall, dark, and mysterious. It turned out that no, Rowan didn’t rely only on emojis.
He used images and hilarious gifs as well.
“Look, Rowan is suggesting we should do glitter next.” I showed the video of a feline sparkling with glitter to Marshmallow.
The white cat yowled at me in protest.
“Fine, fine, no glitter for you, you big baby. Let’s cuddle on the couch, far away from devious paints and glitters. How does that sound?”
This time I got an approving meow. We settled on the comfy couch, Marshmallow loafing next to me as I turned on the TV to idly watch a show. It wasn’t very interesting, but I didn’t want to end up in a limbo of deciding what to watch for half an hour, so I left the TV on as background noise and pulled out my phone to text Rowan some more.
Lisa:
Is Chester alive?
Rowan:
[eyes emoji] [distressed face emoji] [skull emoji]
I interpreted it as confirmation that Chester was, in fact, alive, and regretted every moment of that state.
“Poor baby,” I shook my head. “He would be much better off if his student friends didn’t find him and talked him into taking shots. He is much too social for his own good.”
Marshmallow meowed. It sounded like a confirmation. He was such a good listening buddy.
“You can’t relate, huh?” I booped the cat’s nose playfully. “Every time I visit Elijah, you hide in the bedroom, choosing to be antisocial. The cuddle time has to happen on your rules or not at all. Do you dislike Elijah or something? Who is your chosen human then? Rowan or Chester? Wait, I know…!”
My fingers flew over the phone’s keyboard again.
Lisa:
Who is Marshmallow’s favorite human?
Rowan:
[picture of me laughing at the club]
I spluttered.
One, when did he take that photo? So stealthy!
And two, was he really suggesting I was Marshmallow’s fav human? It couldn’t be!
As if to prove me wrong, the white cat climbed into my lap and stretched up to nuzzle my face.
“Aww, you are so sweet. Like a real Marshmallow. I could eat you up,” I said, returning the affection with rubs and pats.
My phone dinged and my eyes widened. Rowan was messaging me first!
Rowan:
[white cat emoji] [ginger cat emoji] [black cat emoji] [star emoji] [question mark emoji]
A frown spread over my face. I couldn’t choose which of the three cats was my favorite! Cheddar was a personification of chaos, and stupid in that absolutely endearing way of orange cats. Marshmallow was heavenly to cuddle and easy to hang out with. Shadow made me fight for his affection, but that only made it more precious that he was slowly starting to trust me… Wait…
Lisa:
How do you know about the black cat?!
Rowan:
[smiling face with an angel’s halo emoji]
Lisa:
Uh-huh. Have you been stalking me, mister?
Rowan:
[shrug emoji] [eyes emoji] [heart emoji]
My face flared with a hot blush at the implied confession that he liked to watch me.
“You know what’s even harder to choose than which of the cats is my favorite?” I addressed Marshmallow, hoisting him up in front of me. “Choosing which one of my neighbors I like the most.”
“Mreow?” Marshmallow made an inquisitive sound.
I sighed and cuddled the fluffy cloud close.
“They are becoming such good friends to me. I do working dates with Elijah, and silent tea with Rowan, and let Chester drag me all around the campus… I’m scared that if I pursue anything with one of them I will hurt the others and our little friend group will fall apart,” I confessed.
Well, not like the cat could help me with that. I had to make a decision about how to proceed myself. There were three options to choose from.
At least until I found the fourth one.