CHAPTER 10
ACE
"WHAT DO YOU mean, gone?" My voice comes out three octaves higher than normal, and I sound like I'm auditioning for a boy band while about to go into a full-on cardiac arrest. "Gone where? When? How?"
Mama Paws blinks at me from behind the front desk. "She's on a walk, dear."
"A walk." I press my palm against the desk, trying to remember how breathing works. "She's on a walk. Not dead. Not kidnapped by a dog-fighting ring. On a walk."
She smiles. "Yes. She's very popular today."
My heart rate starts returning to something resembling normal. Candy's fine. Everything's fine. I didn't just have a complete meltdown over a dog I've known for a week.
"Sorry, I just—when you said gone, I thought—"
The front door opens, and… Alright So I'm going to have that heart attack after all.
Devon walks in with Candy on a leash, snowflakes melting in his hair, cheeks flushed from the cold, and he's laughing at something, talking to Candy like she's his best friend.
So much for trying to avoid him.
Devon spots me and his face lights up. "Well, well. What do we have here?"
"I came to see Candy." The words tumble out too fast. "The dog. I came to see the dog."
"I figured." He's grinning now, and I'm trying not to notice how nice his teeth are. "Well, she's all yours. We just had the best walk." He crouches down, unclipping her leash, scratching behind her ears. "Didn't we, gorgeous?"
Candy's tail is wagging so hard her entire body's moving.
I know how she feels. If I had a tail right now, it'd be doing the same thing.
Jesus Christ, what is wrong with me?
"So, umm. Should we take her back?" I manage.
"Yeah, probably. Come on, girl."
We walk down to Candy's kennel, and the hallway has definitely shrunk since the last time I was here.
There's no other explanation for why Devon keeps bumping into me.
His shoulder hits mine. His arm brushes my arm.
At one point he stumbles slightly and his hand lands on my lower back to steady himself, and I nearly walk into a wall.
"Sorry," he says, but he doesn't sound sorry. He sounds amused.
"It's fine."
"You okay? You seem tense."
"I'm not tense."
"Your shoulders are up by your ears."
I force them down. "Better?"
"Much."
We reach Candy's kennel and Devon opens it, guiding her inside. She goes willingly but keeps looking back at us with those cloudy eyes, tail still wagging.
"Bye, queen," Devon says. "I'll see you real soon, okay?"
"See you, girl," I add, giving her one more scratch.
Neither of us moves.
"Okay, but actually goodbye this time," Devon tries again.
Candy settles onto her bed.
"You're the best," I tell her. "The absolute best."
"She knows," Devon says. "Look at her face. She's smug about it."
"She has every right to be."
"We should really go."
"We should."
We're still not moving.
"Candy, be good," Devon says.
"I'll bring you treats next time," I promise.
"I'll bring you better treats than his," Devon says.
I turn to look at him. "My treats are excellent."
"We'll see about that."
"Are you challenging my treat game?"
"I'm just saying, I know what dogs like."
"So do I."
"Prove it."
"I will."
"Boys!" Mama Paws's voice echoes down the hallway. "The dog is fine! You can leave now."
We both jump, caught, and Devon's laughing as we finally walk away from Candy's kennel.
Outside, he pulls out his phone. "Shit. My shift starts in forty minutes."
Don't offer him a ride. Don’t offer him a ride. Do not offer him a ri—
"I'm on bar duty tonight," my mouth says, completely independent of my brain's protests. "I can give you a ride."
Fuck.
Devon's face lights up again. "Seriously? You're the best."
No, I'm an idiot. There's a crucial difference.
***
MY CAR HAS definitely shrunk too.
Everything is shrinking today. The shelter hallway. The car. The space between me and Devon, which is currently about six inches and feels like six millimeters.
He buckles his seatbelt completely relaxed, like being in enclosed spaces with people doesn't make him want to crawl out of his own skin.
Must be nice.
I start the engine, grip the steering wheel, and focus very intently on backing out of the parking space. This is fine. It's a fifteen-minute drive. I've driven for fifteen minutes before. I can do this.
"So," Devon says.
Here we go.
"That kiss was pretty hot, huh?"
I swerve. Not a lot. Just enough that the car lurches slightly to the right and I have to overcorrect, and the car behind me lays on the horn.
"Sorry!" I yell at the rearview mirror.
Devon's grinning. "Didn't mean to startle you."
"You didn't. I'm fine. Totally fine."
"Your knuckles are white."
I look down at my hands, which are currently strangling the steering wheel. I force myself to loosen my grip. "Just focusing on the road."
"Right. The road. Very important."
We drive in silence for maybe thirty seconds before Devon speaks again. "I'm just saying, for a straight guy, you kiss like you've had practice."
"I don't—"
"A lot of practice. With guys specifically."
Red light. Thank Christ. I hit the breaks and take a breath.
Devon's examining his nails, not a care in the world. "Not complaining. Just observing. You've got this whole repressed yearning thing going on. It's kind of hot."
"I'm not repressed."
"Sure, Jan."
The light turns green. I drive. Focus on driving. Ignore Devon. Impossible task, but I'm trying.
"So anyway," he continues, casual as fuck, "I jerked off thinking about it."
I nearly drive into oncoming traffic.
There's honking. So much honking. I yank the wheel right, swerving back into my lane, and my heart is trying to punch its way out of my chest. "Jesus Christ, Devon!"
"What?" Somehow he sounds genuinely confused. "Eyes on the road, hockey boy."
"You can't just—you can't say things like that."
"Why not? It's true."
"That doesn't mean you should say it."
"Why are you getting so worked up?" He's fully grinning now. "Unless... were you thinking about it too?"
"No."
"Liar."
"I wasn't."
"Your ears are red."
I press my palm against my ear. It’s burning. "That doesn't mean anything."
"If you say so."
We're going to die. I'm going to crash this car and we'll die, and the last thing I'll have heard is Devon admitting he touched himself while thinking about kissing me.
What kind of alternative timeline is this?
"Can you please—" I start.
"Please what?" He shifts in his seat, turning slightly toward me. "Please stop being devastatingly charming?"
"Devastatingly annoying."
"You love it."
"I tolerate it."
"Same thing."
It absolutely is not the same thing, but I'm not arguing because arguing requires words and my brain has forgotten how words work.
We're at another red light and I'm staring very intently at the traffic light, willing it to turn green through sheer force of desperation.
"Hey, random question," Devon says.
"Oh God, what now?"
"Chill, I'm just messing with you. I've got a date tomorrow. I'll fuck you out of my system."
The weird feeling in my chest isn't jealousy. It's probably that heart attack. Something medical and completely unrelated to the idea of Devon going on a date with someone who isn't me.
Why would I care?
"That's good," I say. "Good for you."
"Yeah. He's cute. Probably boring, but cute."
I grip the steering wheel tighter. "Great."
"Not as hot as you, though."
I nearly rear-end the car in front of me.
Devon laughs, and I'm going to murder him. Just straight-up murder him.
"You should really work on your driving," he says, like he's not the reason I'm currently a traffic hazard.
"I drive fine when people aren't saying—" I gesture vaguely, "—things."
"Things? What things? I'm just making conversation."
The light finally turns green and I drive, probably exceeding the speed limit, desperate to get to the bar where there will be other people and witnesses and I won't have to be alone with Devon in this tiny car that keeps shrinking.
We pull up to the bar and I've never been more grateful to park in my entire life.