Cora Carmack - Losing it

“Hmmm… then slow it is.”

I was still a little angry with Garrick when I left that night, but when he walked me to my door, and asked what I was doing the next day, I wasn’t angry enough to blow him off. Cade wasn’t speaking to me, and I hadn’t heard from Kelsey, so I told him I was free, and we made plans for dinner at my place.

I slept in until noon, my bed too comfortable for me to pry myself out of it. Then I distracted myself with an extra long shower, followed by homework, then a book. When I checked the clock, it was still only 3 P.M.

I grabbed my computer, and searched, “Philadelphia Theatre.”

I found a theatre alliance website that gave info on a bunch of theatres in the city, as well as job postings and auditions. I clicked through, seeing what shows were currently running where, reading job descriptions, and bookmarking a few pages.

My cell rang, but it sounded far off. I tried following the sound, but the ringing ended before I was able to narrow it down further than the living room. Luckily, whoever was calling was persistent, and called again a few moments later. It was definitely somewhere near the couch. I pulled back cushions, but found nothing. I checked under papers and books, still nothing. Finally, I dropped to the ground and peered under the couch. There it was, lighting up the dusty darkness beneath my furniture. And right beside it, glaring at me, was Hamlet.

That brief interlude of sweetness I’d seen from her at the shelter had yet to make another appearance. And I had no doubt that she’d somehow dragged my phone underneath there to spite me.

“Listen, cat, I don’t know why you hate me so much, but you must have missed the memo. I rescued you.” Flat on my stomach, I squeezed myself beneath the couch, reaching for my phone. “You’re supposed to be thankful”

When my hand got closer, she let out her now familiar low growl.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.”

I had to push half my body into the crevice between the furniture and the floor to reach my phone and getting out was even more uncomfortable than getting in.

2 missed calls from MOM.

I groaned. I should have just left it under the couch. At that moment, it rang again, for the third time. I answered, “Hi Mom.”

“Why didn’t you answer the first two times? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, Mom. I just couldn’t find my phone.”

“Oh, well, you should really have a spot that you put it every time you come home, that way you always know where it is.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mom.”

“So, your disorganization is old news. What else is happening in your life?” I swear, my mother was the only person in the world who didn’t think I was a neurotic control freak because she was infinitely worse. She asked the inevitable question, “Have you met anyone?”

I rolled my eyes, which I never could have gotten away with face to face.

“I’m pretty busy with school, Mom. I actually just got cast as a lead in a play.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” she said mildly. She thought going into theatre was a waste of my intelligence.

“It’s actually kind of a big deal.”

“Of course it is honey. You just know how your father and I worry. We’d feel so much better if you had someone to take care of you financially.”

There was a knock at the door, and I went to answer it as I spoke. “First of all, financial security is not a good enough reason to get married, Mother, even if it makes you feel better. Secondly, I don’t need a guy to take care of me. I can take care of myself.” Garrick was on the other side of the door, almost an hour early, and he got to hear the tail end of my speech. He raised an eyebrow, smiling, and if I could have reached through my phone to throttle my mother, I would have. “Anyway, I need to go, Mom. I have company.”

“Is it male company?”

I groaned and said, “Goodbye.”

Hanging up felt so good. I was tempted to call her back and do it a second time.

Garrick smiled, “Your mum sounds a lot like mine.”

I glared at him. “You’re early.” I’d just pulled my hair into a wet ponytail this morning. I’d been planning on straightening it before he came, but now I just looked frumpy. And after crawling under the couch, I was dusty, too.

“Is that okay?”

It would probably be pretty rude to tell him to go home and come back in an hour.

“No, it’s fine. You can watch TV or something. I just need a second.” I waved him into the living room, and slipped into my bedroom, wondering how much improvement I could do in five minutes.

I pulled the band out of my hair, and looked at the wavy, damp mess I had to work with. There was no time to dry it and straighten it. And if I dried it without straightening it, I’d have a fluff ball for hair. I used my hands to mess it up a little more, scrunching it up in my hands, hoping the curly look would do. I worked a little bit of mousse into it, but that was all I had time for. I put on a quick coat of mascara and some chapstick, hoping he was okay with the au natural look.

When I came out of my room, he was stretched out on my couch, watching TV, and Hamlet was curled into a tight ball on his chest. I stood there in shock, certain I was dreaming.

He turned, and saw me watching. “Hey, your hair is curly.” I nodded. I almost always wore it straight. He said, “I like it.”

I was still stuck on the fact that my cat was perched happily on his chest… purring. He had magic powers. That was the only answer.

“Come here,” he said, sitting up, and shifting Hamlet into his lap. I sat down gingerly, a few feet away.

I pointed at Hamlet, and said, “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Get her to let you hold her.”

“It’s a her?” he asked.

“Yes, and she hates everyone. Especially me.”

“Your own cat hates you?”

“We’re working out our issues.”

He laughed. “Maybe she’s miffed that you gave her a boy’s name.”

I reached out a hand to pet her, and as always, received a growl for my troubles. Garrick thought Hamlet’s hatred of me was hilarious. And he kept holding her, which meant I was relegated to the opposite cushion because my cat had stolen my… whatever he was.

Ugh. That was something I didn’t want to think about. I mean, obviously, it was a secret relationship, so it wasn’t like we necessarily needed labels, but I was curious. What would happen when the year was up? Would we even last that long?

I got up to start dinner to distract myself.

I made spaghetti because it was the only thing I trusted myself not to screw up when I was nervous. And well… I was always nervous around Garrick. He apparently had the opposite effect on Hamlet, who was fast asleep in his lap.

I saw my window of opportunity for what I’d been craving since he arrived.

I left the food cooking on the stove, and made my way to the couch. I didn’t sit for fear of waking up the moody one, but I placed a hand on his shoulder, and leaned down for a kiss. Since his hands were trapped beneath Hamlet, I got to control the kiss. My hands found his hair, which was as addicting and soft as always, and the kiss deepened. I kissed him hard, because I could, and he made no effort to stop me. It was the kiss I’d wanted the night before that he’d refused to give me.

I didn’t want to pull back, but I did have dinner on. His eyes were dark when we separated. “I think you might be a little evil,” he said.

I laughed. “Yes, I planned this all. Hamlet was in on it, as well.”

“Kiss me again.”

He didn’t have to ask me twice.