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“Hot Puppy Guy is asnack,” Beth says, and I do my best not to visibly cringe as I step away from the door.
“He has a name,” I remind her. “It’s Eli. And you can’tsaythings like that.”
“You can’t tell me not to.” Beth crosses her arms. “You’re being ageist by implying I’m too old to use the termsnack. Or to appreciate asnackable”—I flinch again—“piece of man.”
“Beth,please. It’s as much about objectification as it is your terminology. He’s not apieceof anything. He’s aperson.”
“I’m notobjectifyingyour boyfriend. I’mappreciatinghis personhood. Like he’s a fine wine. Or a Van Gogh.”
“You are literally illustrating objectification right now. And, once again, Eli isnotmy boyfriend.”
But I sure wish he were.
Not that I’m even in the market for a relationship. I absolutely and categorically am not. Clearly, I need to have a talk with whatever part of my subconscious keeps forgetting that very relevant fact whenever Eli shows up. It’s probably the biological impulse to naturally select the biggest and strongest male for procreative purposes.
Procreation is something I need to think about even LESS than I think about having a boyfriend.
The cost of vet school means my focus needs to be work. No distractions. Definitely no boyfriends. Not even super-hot Viking men who love dogs.
I’m in my spinster era. Every twentysomething has one of those, right?
Aside from a lucky lotto win, saving up enough to minimize student loans will take years. Especially if I consider the letter still jammed in my bra. The one I keep forgetting about until a corner pokes me in a very sensitive area. Again.
Ireallyneed to pull this envelope out when Beth isn’t looking.
She claps her hands. “Stop drooling and go.”
I take another step away from the door. “I’m not drooling.”
Still. When Beth looks through the window, I wipe my chin. Just in case.
“Hm,” she says in a faux-thoughtful voice. “Looks like Katrina is trying to demonstrate yoga poses and?—”
“On second thought, I’ll head out there.”
Beth's smile widens into a smug grin, and she tucks a white curl behind her ear. It immediately springs right back out. “That's what I thought,” she says. “Maybe this time you could actually, I don't know, talk to him about more than dogs.”
Doubtful. Not because I am incapable of carrying on conversations that don't revolve around animals. But more because every time I'm around new or unfamiliar people—and I don’t consider peoplefamiliarunless we’ve been close friends for at least a year—my shy tendencies kick in hardcore. Forget tongue-tied; I become tongue-tangled.
My normally neat and organized thoughts get jumbled, like someone dumped an alphabetized file cabinet out on the floor then took a leaf blower to it.
“I make no promises.”
I hesitate by the door, and Beth gives me a hearty shove. “Get out there before Katrina takes her top off in a desperate attempt to steal your boyfriend.”
I don't even bother arguing again that he's not my boyfriend. Or that Katrina won’t take her top off. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past her.
Taking a breath, which does nothing to slow my racing heart, I step through the door.
And there he is—his back still turned toward the reception desk. The three volunteers scatter at the sight of me. Totally busted in their ogling. I’m not their boss, exactly, but as a full-time employee, volunteers fall somewhat under my purview. Katrina answers the phone, which has probably been ringing since Eli walked in.
I approach him cautiously, stopping a few feet away to give his flannel-clad back an appreciative glance. Not an objectifying stare. If I were objectifying, I’d be looking at his butt. Backs are totally neutral zones.
“Here for more puppy therapy?” I ask, proud I’m not only able to get words out, but funny ones at that.
When Eli turns and I catch the expression on his face, I immediately regret my attempt at humor. Not funny. Not even a little.
Clearly, my words hit a little too close to home. Eli looks … terrible. I mean, relatively speaking. About as terrible as this mancanlook. Still very, very attractive, but his infectious smile has been replaced by a frown, and his blue eyes look haunted.
