Page 76 of No Need to Run
His purring increases, vibrating faintly through the barrier between us.
My lips curve.
“Mr. Pickles,” Drew calls lazily from the couch. “What are you doing?”
The cat doesn’t move, but I’m already slipping behind the plant, watching through the leaves as Drew shifts, sitting up slightly.
“Leave the damn squirrels alone,” he mutters, already losing interest as he settles back against the couch.
I wait. One breath. Then two.
I’m about to peer around the plant again when I hear Drew’s voice.
“I’m going to go take a shower.” He stands, his feet moving past where I’m hidden. “Behave yourself, Mr. Pickles.”
I peek back out once he’s gone, then whisper to the cat, “I’ll see you later.”
Then I creep to the shrub by his bedroom window and squat down, peering through the glass.
The sound of the shower running hits my ears. Drew is singing along with a classic rock station.
I slap my hand over my mouth. He’s a terrible singer.
Mr. Pickles jumps up on the nightstand, making eye contact with me through the window.
A few minutes later, he pads out, a towel wrapped around his waist. My mouth waters at the sight.
I duck as he comes closer.
His voice floats through the window. “I cut myself with the damn razor,” he tells Mr. Pickles.
I peer through the window, watching as Drew drops a bloody tissue into his trash can.
Mr. Pickles looks at me. I swear he’s gloating.
I love that cat.
“What a crazy day. I still can’t find my blue T-shirt. I know I put it in the hamper, yet when I did laundry, it wasn’t there.”
That’s because I have it. I plan to sleep in it tonight.
He shakes his head, then drops his towel. I shove my hand inside my mouth to keep from moaning.
Yup, skinny men are absolutely packing. Especially Drew.
Research complete.
He opens his drawer and grabs a pair of boxers. His back is to me as he pulls them on. Then he grabs a pair of gray sweatpants and puts them on. I die a little more inside.
I’m so hot, I almost fan myself. Almost.
With one last look around the room, he says, “I’m losing it, Mr. Pickles. I have to be. A shirt doesn’t just disappear.”
Mr. Pickles looks at me again before turning back to Drew.
Drew exits his room, still shirtless.
I press my fingers to the window. “I’ll be back,” I whisper to my furry feline friend. “Take care of Drew.”
