Say You'll Remember Me(18)

She sat back and crossed her legs. Her hair was messy from laying against me and her eyes were red from lack of sleep but she was breathtaking anyway.

“My first pet was an orange Persian cat named Ginger,” she said. “We found her in a trash can. This cat was so gross, Xavier. She looked soggy, like one of those koalas that has chlamydia—”

I choked.

“I think she was like fourteen or something when we found her? She lived to be nineteen.”

I was smiling. “Then what? What else did you have?”

She scrunched up her face. “I had hamsters.” She glanced at me. “Don’t be mad at me, but they all died premature deaths.”

“Yes, they tend to do that,” I said.

“Is that just a universal experience? Because everyone I know had a hamster who died in some tragic accident.”

“They’re escape artists and they’re prone to cardiac arrest. Most need enclosures much bigger than they’re given. Also, they hibernate. People don’t know that and they bury them thinking they’re dead.”

She stared at me. “Are you telling me that I might have buried Hambert alive?”

I sucked air through my teeth.

“Xavier! I’m going to cry!” She laughed.

“I’m sure Hambert was dead. Or that he died peacefully in his sleep. In his shallow grave.”

She did a laugh-gasp. “Please tell me that you’re taking on the hamster education crusade, because I did not know any of this.”

I held up my hand. “I will make it my life’s work.”

She shook her head at me with a smile. “What about you? What animals did you have growing up?”

“Only Winnie.”

She pulled her face back. “Just one dog?”

“That’s all. I’ve fostered a lot, but with school and work it wasn’t really feasible for me to have one.”

“So is Jake your first dog? Since Winnie?”

“Pretty much.”

“Wow. Is he okay by himself right now?” she asked. “I didn’t even think about that. Pooter has the litter box and her food and water and stuff.”

“He’s fine. He has pee pads and water. He’s just lonely.”

She put out her bottom lip. Then she yawned into the back of her hand.

“Come here,” I said, pulling her back in. She nestled up against me and we sat there in a long sleepy pause.

“We never made it out of the spaceship,” she said, tiredly. “We got probed.”

I snorted. “Did you see the wooden wands on the wall with the hieroglyphics over them?” I asked.

“Yeah…”

“It says probes.”

She burst into weary laughter. I smiled until it died down and she slipped into silence.

“I willed tonight not to end too,” she said softly.

My heart leaped.

“I like you,” I said.

“I like you too,” she said, her cheek pressed to my chest. “I like that your friends love you so much. I like that Becca said good things about you in the bathroom. I like that the dogs on the boat liked you, even the one who didn’t like men,” she said. “I think you can tell a lot about someone by how animals react to them.”

“You can tell a lot about someone by how they treat their pets,” I said.

“Is that why you asked me out?” she asked. “You like how I treat my cat?”

“That and other things.”

“What other things?” she asked.

I paused.

“I think you’re beautiful,” I said. “I like how you smell. Pooter smelled like you. I like that you rescued her and didn’t give up on her. I liked that you did what you said you were going to do and tried to save her. And I like that you told me I’m an asshole.”

She barked out a laugh. “Why would you like that?”

“Because most people don’t say what they think. Animals do. They’re transparent. Their body language doesn’t lie. They always tell you the truth if you pay attention. People lie all the time.”

“Huh.” She nodded against my heart. “I liked that you apologized, even though you thought you’d never see me again. I also liked that you advocated for Pooter. I get why you were upset with me at first. I also think you’re very handsome. I told my sister that when I got home. And again when you took your shirt off earlier.”

I made my expression flat the way I always did when someone was paying me a compliment, but my heart picked up again. She had to feel it.

“I’m sorry you had to call me an asshole the day you met me,” I said quietly.

“Is that really what you’re thinking about?” she said, looking up at me.

I held her gaze. “I was embarrassed that you pointed out my bedside manner that first day,” I said. “It bothered me for weeks that I acted that way.”

“Why?”

“Because I care what you think. I didn’t like that you thought I was rude, even though I was. I was having a bad day and I let my emotions get away from me.”

We peered at each other.

“I wasn’t really myself that day either,” she said.

“Why?”

She went quiet and I thought she wasn’t going to answer.