6. Kai
Chapter 6
Kai
I watch out the window while Leo paces in his flat, spends time on the internet, watches a film, and then eventually goes to bed at ridiculous o’clock in the morning. He’s going to feel rough at work tomorrow. Usually, I’d follow him into the bedroom and curl up at his feet, but I promised I’d keep a low profile. Once I’m sure I don’t have to go and say boo to a burglar, I go to sleep on the sofa. It isn’t as comfortable as Leo’s bed.
His alarm wakes me up. I stretch and yawn, waiting for the shower rush or the slam of drawers in the bedroom as Leo gets ready for work. Nothing. He must have snoozed the alarm.
A few minutes later, it goes off again and is turned off. Again, nothing.
He snoozes his alarm four more times. This isn’t like Leo. He hates being late for work because he doesn’t like letting people down. I flex my claws, slink off the sofa, and pad to the bedroom door. It’s every so slightly ajar, allowing me to push my way in.
Leo is lying on his side, with his hand beside his alarm clock. He’s snoring, which is adorable, and showing absolutely no signs of waking. He shouldn’t have stayed up so late. I leap onto the bed and bat him over the face with my paw. He grunts and rolls over. I jump over him and repeat the process. This time I hit him more insistently. When he still doesn’t stir, I lick his ear.
“What?” He snorts but sits up.
I wander to the alarm clock and brush my tail over it, drawing his attention to the time.
He stares at me. “If this is a dream, I don’t need to go to work.”
I meow sharply.
He rubs his eyes. “This is a dream. This is a dream.”
I nudge his hand, put my front paws on his chest, and gently nip his jaw.
“Ow!”
Is that enough to convince him he’s not dreaming?
“Fine, fine, I’ll get up.”
I hop off the bed and wait by the door until he’s out of bed and making his way into the en suite. Then I leave him to it, returning to my vantage point on the windowsill.
He leaves the bedroom twenty minutes later, dressed and looking much more awake. I have to stop myself running over to him for fuss and cuddles. I’m supposed to be keeping a low profile while he processes everything he learnt about me last night. It’s harder than I thought it would be. I miss the pats on my head.
He goes about his morning tasks—brewing coffee, pouring cereal into a bowl, making my breakfast. He pauses halfway through, mashing up the meaty cat food in the bowl.
“Do you even like this stuff?”
I reply with an indignant mewl.
“Do you need to eat it?”
I lick my paw.
He shakes his head and puts the bowl on the mat, which has a cartoon fish bone with a smiley face. I don’t run over to eat. He’s correct. Cat food is not on my list of favourite foods. I don’t need to eat at all, but I did to keep my cover. I shudder. Nope. Don’t think about what else I had to do to keep my cover. I side-eye the litter tray and vow to never go near it again.
While he eats, Leo watches me like I’ll turn into a rhinoceros. Or maybe he thinks I’ll vanish in a puff of smoke. That would be a neat trick. When he’s finished, he dumps his things into the sink and puts his shoes on. I run over to the fridge, meow to get his attention, and tap it with my paw.
“Right, lunch.”
I step aside so he can open the fridge and gather something to take for his lunch. He shuts the fridge door. The left corner of his mouth twitches. He sighs, leans down, and pats my head.
“Thanks, Cay. ”
I push up against his palm, briefly lifting my front paws off the floor.
“I’ll see you later.” He walks out the door.
Which is my cue to head to his car. I hesitate. Should I follow him like I usually do? Yes. Everything else aside, it’s still my duty to protect him, and I can’t do that if I stay couped up in this apartment. Besides, he won’t even know I’m there. I switch form, climb out the window, turn back into a cat, and race to his car for another day of watching Leo be utterly adorable while he works.