Chapter 2 #2
No, this is an animal that is healthy and well cared for. For one thing, he’s got a full, filled-out face—not at all gaunt. His coat is glossy, and his body is packed with meat and muscle. Teeth white and straight.
“I’ll take him to the shelter. They’ll sort it out,” Hayes says, voice tight.
I leap to my feet, aghast.
“You can’t be serious. Don’t you know what they do to dogs at the shelter? They kill them!”
“Al—”
“Over my dead body.” I flash the dog a grin, rubbing his thick, muscular neck. “Don’t worry. You’re coming home with me, handsome.”
The dog’s tail thumps once against the ground, loud as a drumbeat, as if in agreement.
It feels like fate.
If I come home with a lost dog I just stumbled upon, what can my mother say? She’ll have to allow him to stay with us while we search for his owners.
Naturally, I’ll do the right thing. Check online for lost dog postings. Put up some flyers—not too many, though. I don’t really want someone to come and take him away. With any luck, no one will claim him, and I’ll finally have a dog just like I’ve always wanted.
“You’re joking, right? He’s enormous.” Hayes arches a brow. “Where would you even put him? You barely have room as it is in that tiny-ass apartment. Where’s he gonna sleep, the kitchen sink?”
I level him with a look. “Just because we aren’t gajillionaires—like some people—doesn’t mean we can’t have a dog.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” He shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… Al, c’mon. You can’t find some random dog on the street and just take him home with you.”
“Sure I can.” I cross my arms, chin lifting. “I think I’m in love.”
“You just met the damn thing!”
I grin. “What, never heard of love at first sight?”
He doesn’t return my smile. His eyes flick toward the dog again, then back to me, as if calculating something.
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Nope,” I say. “He needs a home, and I’m going to give him one.”
“Okay, fine.” He sighs, long and low. “What if I do it?”
I blink, confused.
“Do what?”
“I’ll keep him,” he says, voice suddenly all casual. He crouches down, slowly extending a hand to give the dog a tentative pat. To my surprise, the dog leans into it—pressing against Hayes’s leg like they’ve known each other for years. “My parents love dogs. We used to have some back in Greece.”
“Uh, what happened to ‘he’s dangerous’?”
“Can’t a guy change his mind?”
He shrugs, still stroking the dog, calm and easy, like he’s done it a hundred times before. Which, frankly, is weirder than anything else. It’s a complete 180 from how he was just seconds ago, yelling at me to stay away.
I narrow my eyes. “A dog is a lifetime commitment. You can’t even commit to the same girl for more than a month.”
Even Amber—his longest relationship to date—barely made it a few weeks last spring before they broke up for the hundredth time.
“You really want to go there?” He smirks. “Remind me—when’s the last time you went on a date?”
“Ouch. Cheap shot.”
But he’s not wrong.
I haven’t gone on a real date since junior year, when I swapped numbers with a cute guy in the book aisle at Target because he was wearing a Ghostface T-shirt and said he liked girls who “don’t scare easy.
” We went out once. He screamed during a silly jump scare in the new Jurassic Park movie, and I laughed at him.
I never saw him again.
It’s not that no one ever asks me out. I just haven’t met many guys I actually want to say yes to.
Unbidden, my gaze shifts to Hayes’s gorgeous face.
Well… anyone available.
“Besides,” he adds, teasing now, “everyone knows dogs are man’s best friend—not woman’s.”
“Wow. That’s deeply sexist.” I place a hand over my heart, mock-offended. “I don’t know if I can stay best friends with a rampantly misogynistic man.”
I squint at him, pretending to think it over.
“I mean, maybe it’s time I start looking for replacements. Someone who actually respects women. Someone who’s an ally. Someone who—”
“Alright, just relax, Gloria Steinem.” He lifts both hands in surrender.
“Truth is, it’s been kind of lonely with my parents gone.
My apartment’s nice, but weirdly quiet without a roommate.
” His tone shifts, the edges softening just enough to catch me off guard.
“I was thinking… a dog might be good company.”
A pang of sympathy pulls at my chest. I knew he missed his parents, but hearing him actually admit it out loud hits different, like maybe it’s even harder for him than I realized.
“You can come over for dinner anytime,” I say. “You know my mom loves you. You’re basically the son she wishes she had.”
“Thanks,” he murmurs, eyes quickly flicking away. “It’s okay. I’m sure my folks will be back soon.”
I nod, glancing back down at the dog, his tail thumping lazily against the stone driveway. His big, blocky head tilts, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he blinks up at me with trusting eyes.
“I’m sorry about your parents, but you know how much I’ve always wanted a dog—this might be my only shot.” A smile tugs at my lips. “Besides, I’m not exactly sure you’re puppy-parent material.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, please,” I say. “Don’t you remember what happened to Mr. Scramble?”
Back in Home Ec class freshman year, we had to co-parent a raw egg like it was a real baby.
It’d seemed like an easy enough project until Hayes dropped our egg and broke it while he’d been busy flirting with Holly Clark, the captain of the dance team.
It was the first—and only—C grade I ever got in high school.
“You’re kidding, right?” He groans loudly. “I was fourteen! Will you ever let that die?”
“Oh, like you let Mr. Scramble die?” I ask, feigning outrage. “He was our egg-baby, Hayes! Our precious little egg-son. And you murdered him!”
Hayes’s mouth opens like he’s going to argue, but nothing comes out. For a second, he just studies me. And I can see it—the exact moment the wheels start turning. He exhales, then flashes a smile that’s a little too smooth.
“Okay, fair enough,” he says. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we let the dog decide? Twenty bucks says he picks me.”
I grin savagely. “You’re on.”
We both take a few steps back until we’re spread out across the courtyard.
“Come here, sweet boy,” I call gently to the dog while Hayes shouts from the other end of the drive.
The dog freezes, gaze flicking between us like he’s torn. Then, slowly, he starts toward me. Victory stirs in my chest, and I can tell the dog is as good as mine.
But then, just before he reaches me, Hayes mutters something unintelligible under his breath and claps his hands together, loud as a thunderbolt.
The dog stops. Then pivots.
Hayes lets out an unfiltered, triumphant laugh as the dog lopes straight toward him, tail wagging like crazy.
“Guess he made his choice,” he says, dropping to his knees with a cocky grin. The dog plops down in front of him and starts licking his hands affectionately like they’re old friends.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I mutter in disbelief. I’d been so sure the dog was going to pick me. I could feel it in my bones.
And then… I hear it.
A sharp crunching sound. Almost like wet chewing.
“Hey, wait a second—”
I run over and lunge for Hayes’s hand. He tries to pull away, but I flip his palm over to find it coated in golden crumbs and dog slobber.
“You lousy cheater!”
Something hot and restless coils in my gut. Maybe it’s the sting of this morning’s humiliation and loss. Maybe it’s just that I’m so goddamn tired of losing—roles, people, control.
Even if it’s just a dog. Even if it’s to my best friend. I don’t want to lose again.
A sudden rush of power surges through me, a burst of energy rising from somewhere I didn’t even know existed. I square my shoulders and shout, my voice bursting forth like a lightning strike.
“Come here. NOW!”
The dog jerks away from Hayes like a string’s been yanked. In a blink, he’s racing back to me. Then he’s pressed into my legs, head bowed and tail sweeping side to side. His nose finds my palm and stays there. Solid. Certain.
“Holy shit,” Hayes breathes, looking stunned.
I grin, slow and victorious.
“Guess he’s mine now.”
“This really isn’t a good idea—”
But I’m already coaxing the dog into the backseat of my car and slamming the door behind him.
“Al, wait. Come on,” he says, more urgent now, a panicked look on his face. “You don’t know anything about him. What if he—”
“Later!” I shout through the window. “Gotta go convince my mom about a dog.”
I slide into the driver’s seat and reach back, my fingers brushing soft fur. The dog lets out a low, contented huff and melts into my touch. I can’t stop the grin spreading across my face—wide, real, unstoppable.
But as I drive away, I catch one last glimpse of Hayes in the rearview mirror, still watching, still worried.
I hesitate, just for a second. The look on his face tugs at something deep in my gut… and I can’t help but wonder if I’m making a huge mistake.