I laugh. “Doubt it. My building has been on his route since long before I moved here.”
“I wouldn’t read too much into the nickname. She calls you Gnome.”
“Yeah, but that sounds close enough to Naomi.”
She drives us to the pet store where the adoption event is being held. The humane society has several pens set up at the front of the store. The most adoptable dogs are in these pens, excitedly greeting the people who are grouped around them. We pass a pen of about eight brown and white puppies that look like they can’t be any older than two months. The young puppies seem to be getting the most attention.
We go inside and make our way to the back of the store where there are several more cages lined up with cats and kittens of all ages. I spot Jake standing by one cage. Inside the cage is an orange tabby kitten and another that’s mostly white with patches of gray and orange on its back. He’s talking to one of the other volunteers. When he notices me, he smiles and gives me his full attention.
“You came,” he says.
“Are these the kittens?” I poke my finger through the bars of the cage. Both of the kittens approach to sniff me.
“These are the famous bowling kittens,” he confirms. He points at the orange one. “That’s Roland. The calico is Phoebe.”
Anne steps up and extends her hand to him. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Anne.”
He reaches over the cage to shake her hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Anne.”
“And you are?”
He laughs and lets go of her hand. “Very funny.”
I frown at her and mouth, “Why are you being weird?”
Jake turns his attention back to the kittens.
“Has anyone looked at the kittens today?” I ask him.
“A couple people have passed by and played with them through the cage, but no one has filled out an application for them.”
“They’re so cute. How could anyone pass them up?”
He shrugs. “Do you want to play with them?”
“Can I?”
He shows me and Anne to a small room that’s designed to be a quiet space for families to meet animals that are available for adoption. He brings the kittens in a moment later. Anne and I sit on the floor as the two kittens bounce around the room wrestling each other.
He hands us a box full of toys, then sits down next to me. Anne picks out a plastic stick with a feathery toy at the tip, which she dangles over the kittens. They both launch themselves at the toy at the same time, crashing into each other and missing the toy entirely.
I laugh. “How old are they?”
“Four months,” he says.
The orange kitten jumps into my lap just then and stretches his paws up, swatting at my hair.
“He must think my braid is a toy,” I say. I wiggle my braid and the kitten swats at it again, but this time he doesn’t let go. The kitten pulls back, yanking my head down with him.
“Oh. Ouch.”
“His claw is stuck,” Jake says. He leans over me as he lifts the kitten, carefully untangling the tiny claw from my braid.
From this angle, all I can see are his chin and his throat. His jaw is speckled with short stubble. I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down once. I know what the skin of his neck feels like against my lips, between my teeth. If I didn’t have a kitten stuck in my hair right now – or an audience of Anne, watching us – I might push him down to the floor and have a little fun with him.
When he pulls away, his eyes meet mine for a second, and in that brief moment, they narrow just enough to make me think he knows exactly what I’m thinking. I can’t help but wonder if I’m really that easy to read, or if he has the same thoughts going on in his head.
He sets Roland back down on the floor, but the kitten returns to my lap, this time settling down instead of playing with my hair.
