Chapter 4
Tristan
Emma's eyes grow larger, and I think maybe I'm coming on too strong. We've just met and I'm saying endearments to her. I lower my gaze and start looking around the one-bedroom apartment where she lives. There are a lot of knick-knacks on the shelves, but everything seems to have its own place.
The space suits her even though it's tiny. Makes me think that she spends most of her time downstairs in the shop helping her sisters. As I search for something to comment on – without adding an endearment – I notice Buddy is shaking.
"Hey, he's trembling. Do you think there's something wrong?"
"He's right in front of the fireplace, so he shouldn't be cold. Maybe he's having a bad dream. You can bring him over here and put him between us."
I get up and approach the puppy. I stroke his head, and he opens his eyes with a bit of fear and trepidation in them. This is a foreign place, and he doesn't really know me. I wait for a few seconds and then pick him up carefully. He's skin and bones, and a flash of rage goes through me.
Placing him between Emma and I, we both start fussing over him.
His tail starts wagging softly as if he's beginning to trust us.
Emma pulls a huge crochet blanket and throws it over her legs, over Buddy and over my own legs.
Sitting here like this, seems like the perfect cozy picture of a family, and it stirs longings inside me.
"You want him, don't you?"
"I…I'm not sure. I spend a lot of time away from home. What kind of life would that be for a pet?"
"He's small enough that you can take him with you on errands. Be honest."
"If I picked up every stray I found, I would have my own shelter in my backyard."
"If you did, we would help. Furrylicious, I mean."
"Your sisters might not agree."
"I've got dirt on them. I can blackmail with the best of them."
"I didn't know having sisters was such a cutthroat business."
"We fight. A lot. It keeps things interesting."
I want to know more about this woman, but I'm not certain how to go about it. An idea jumps into my mind, but I don't know if the question I want to ask is too personal.
"Did you girls fight over boyfriends?"
"Oh God. Our poor parents. I was the first one to start dating, and all of them would mock me and sing the kissing song behind our backs whenever any boy was over doing homework with me."
"Homework, is it?"
"I've always been very scholarly."
The smile on her face shows me that she's not telling me everything.
"Who was your first boyfriend?"
"Donny Bianchi. I wasn't allowed to actually have a boyfriend until I was sixteen, so I had suitors, but once I reached the age I jumped in with both feet. It lasted about a week, then I caught him flirting with another girl from our class. So I dumped his ass."
"Were you sad about breaking up with him?"
"Are you kidding me? I wanted revenge. I talked to the girl, and she strung him along. When she said she'd be his girl she waited a week and did the same thing to him that he did to me. It was glorious. We became good friends after that."
"You've got a mean bone in that body of yours."
"He had it coming. What about you?"
I think about my own shenanigans girlfriend-wise and decide to allow myself to share that information with her. It's only fair that she gets bits of me at the same time I get bits of her.
"I was seven. She was ten. I pulled her pigtails; she gave me the red velvet cupcake her mom had put in her lunchbox. It lasted for about a month because her mother kept giving her the same delicious cupcakes. When mom started putting cookies in the lunchbox instead, I knew it was over between us."
"What an opportunist!"
"What's that saying about love and a man's stomach? Well, they're right."
"Are you still food motivated? I'm asking for a friend."
I give her a wicked smile and watch her as she takes a sip of her cocoa. Her lips are plump and the color of a dark pink rose, just right for kissing.
"That's me. Do you do any cooking?"
"Am I applying for a position?"
"Actually, I taught myself to cook. I'm pretty good if I do say so myself."
"Oh, wow. I'm starting to think you are a catch. So long as I keep you in red velvet cupcakes, that is."
"Exactly."
We've both been mindlessly petting Buddy between us, and that seems to have resolved the trembling issue. I swear this dog is going to break my heart.
"Emma, why do you think people do things like this? I mean, why even get a dog if you don't have the means or the will to take care of it?"
"There are all types of people in this world, Tristan. You can't let it get to you."
"Can't I? Look at this poor little guy. He could have died out there tonight."
"But he didn't. You found him and brought him here for help."
"I'm not giving him back to that owner."
"Don't get all worked up. Did you take pictures of how he was tied down?"
"Yeah. I knew I'd need evidence if I was going to remove him from there."
"Can I see?"
"Maybe you shouldn't. It's not pretty."
I see her struggle with the need to see the evidence and the pain that is watching this little guy suffering once again.
"You're right, Tristan. That would just hurt my heart to see."
At that moment Buddy moves from where he is between us to climb onto Emma's lap. My heart fills with joy because he can recognize that she is someone who will never let anything bad happen to him. I take advantage of the empty seat and move closer to her.
"I think he has a favorite."
"He just needs lots of love and caring. I can't have a dog here."
"He could be the store mascot. As long as you teach him not to leave the premises, he should be okay."
"Now you're hoisting him off on me?"
I search her face to see if she's really upset about that. It's clear she's not and only pretending to be offended.
"Maybe we can adopt him together. Shared custody. Fifty-fifty."
"How do I know you'll be a good dog father?"
"You can teach me exactly what I need to do."
"That would entail seeing each other often."
"I don't see a problem with that. Do you?"
"I'll have to think about it."
I watch her as she lowers her eyes and starts to stroke Buddy's fur once again. This tells me a lot about her and how caring she is. After a while it seems like I'm entranced by the movement of her hand. I look up suddenly to find her watching me.
"You're really good with him."
"I love animals."
"But you're burned out."
Her face hardens, and she tenses up her body immediately after I say that.
"What makes you say that?"
"No hobby, no life, all work. You are killing yourself slowly but surely."
"It's not that bad."
"Why are you doing it?"
"I want to make a difference. It's just…"
"What?"
"It feels like I'm never doing enough. Right now I'm training two interns so that they can take over and I can volunteer my grooming services at the shelter. It's going slow."
"Do you want more hot chocolate?"
If she's surprised by my offer, she doesn't show it.
"There's whipped cream in the fridge."
I leave her and Buddy to their own devices until I can make some more hot cocoa for her. When I come back to the sofa, I see her gaze is far away as if somewhere else.
"Here you go. Whipped cream on top."
"Thanks. I prefer the whipped cream, but some of my sisters like the marshmallows instead. So I keep both on stock."
When she sips on the chocolate, she gets a whipped cream moustache, and that makes me laugh like a loon.
"Oh no, did I get some on my face?"
"You sure did."
I reach out and clean the cream with my thumb. When there's no more left, I take my thumb back and suck the remnants of the cream from it. When I realize what I've done I see that Emma has noticed as well, and her eyes have grown darker.
Watching her like this makes me feel like the luckiest man alive. Then she licks her lips and my cock starts to stir in my pants. I bring the blanket up to cover me from the waist down. I need to kiss her, but I'm not sure she's ready.
"This is making me sleepy. Do you want to move to the bed, Tristan?"
I swear my cock twitched, and it wants to grow to full mast, but I'm trying my best to think of things that disgust me like old men spitting out tobacco or food vendors fixing food with their bare hands.
"You take the bed. I can sleep here with Buddy."
"Nonsense. There's enough space for the three of us. Come on, Tristan, live a little."