Wrecked (16 page)

“Well then
you need kitten food, obviously,” Todd said, emphasizing the last word as if
Hunter was a buffoon.

I laughed
silently, noting the plight of the tall and muscular. Hunter could pretty much
snap Todd in half if he wanted to, but he was putting up with Todd being a jerk
to him anyway.

“Okay,”
Hunter said gamely. “Where is the kitten food?”

Todd
stomped down to the other end of the aisle and held up a yellow bag of food.
“It’s the one that says ‘For Kittens.’”

Hunter
nodded. “Okay, but these are really little kittens. Can they eat that?”

“Where did
you get these kittens?” Todd asked.

“I rescued
them.”

“How small
are we talking?”

Hunter
used his hands to show how small they were. I would have just said “super
tiny.”

Todd’s
eyebrows shot up. “And there’s no mother cat?”

“Nope.”

“Well, you
should really get them to a vet as soon as possible, but at the end of the
aisle you’ll find kitten milk, syringes, and bottles. There’s a little manual
with the supplies that should teach you  what you need to feed the
kittens.”

Hunter nodded
and looked over at me. “This is going to be a lot of work,” he said.

Was he
thinking about giving them up for adoption? “They’re
really
cute,
though.”

“Are you
going to help me with them?” he asked.

“Sure,” I
said, shrugging. Who didn’t want to play with kittens?

“No, I
mean are you going to really help me? Like co-raise them.”

What was
he talking about? I looked at Todd, who was standing there dumbly.

“They’re
going to be staying at your apartment, right?” I asked.

“I’ll give
you a key. I’m just saying, if we need to be feeding these little guys
constantly, having some help in case I have to be gone would turn this from
being impossible to being a fun challenge.”

I took a
deep breath. It felt like no matter what I did, I was getting closer to Hunter.
“Okay, that does sound fun actually. But you’re not afraid I’m going to snoop
around your apartment and find things I shouldn’t?” I teased.

He
grinned. “Nah, I trust you.”

Todd
cleared his throat. I had totally forgotten he was there, and my face grew hot.
Why was I constantly managing to do embarrassing things?

“Yeah
dude, thanks,” Hunter said. Todd scampered away as Hunter turned back to me.
“Lorrie, thanks for agreeing to help me. I think this will be fun.”

We picked
out our syringes, bottles, rubber nipples, kitten milk, and manual. I began
flipping through the guide to feeding newborn kittens as we walked to checkout.
There was a lot to make sure you got right. I was already feeling a little
intimidated by it all.

The
cashier that checked us out eyed Hunter flirtatiously from under her dark bangs
as she rang up our kitten formula, but then her eyes caught the sight of his
tattoos and her expression changed.

“You’re
bottle-feeding kittens?” she asked.

“Yup,”
Hunter said. “Just rescued them.”

She nodded,
her lips a thin line. “Well, make sure you get them to the vet,” she said.
“Kittens are very delicate at that age.”

“Thanks
for the advice,” I said as politely as possible. Why did everyone treat Hunter
like he wasn’t capable of taking care of some kittens? People seemed to love
jumping to conclusions about others so quickly. Like people assuming I was
depressed and suicidal, or assuming I was having sex with Hunter. Why couldn’t
people just give you the benefit of the doubt and assume the best?

“Yeah, thank
you Stephanie,” Hunter said, reading her name tag. “We’ll be sure to get them
into the vet as soon as possible.” He flashed a smile. I was glad that at least
he could take the way people treated him in stride even if I didn’t.

We
finished checking out and left the mall. The muscles on his tattooed arms
stretched against his black t-shirt as we walked to the bus stop. It made me
feel strange to admit it, but being seen with such an attractive guy made me
throw my shoulders back and feel more self-confidence than I had in years. Even
if we were just friends.

We didn’t get back to the
gym until after five-thirty. The people training changed from younger,
college-aged guys like Hunter and Gary to older guys in their late twenties and
older. I couldn’t help but notice that there were no women training in the gym.
The smell of man sweat was everywhere.

Gary was
holding a sleeping kitten with a big white spot right between its eyes as we
approached. He put one finger up to his lips telling us to be quiet.

“These
things do nothing but sleep,” he said. “But wow, are they cute when they
sleep.”

The kitten
fit into his hand easily. “Check it out,” he said. He used a finger on his
other hand to tickle its stomach softly. The kitten squirmed and grabbed at the
finger with all four paws without waking up. My heart melted.

“How cute
is that?” Gary said.

I looked
over at Hunter, who was smiling. “Pretty cute,” he said. “These little guys are
probably super hungry by now, though. We have to figure out how to feed them.”

“You don’t
just give them regular cat food?” Gary asked.

“Nope.
There’s a whole manual on how to do it. I guess you have to bottle feed them
when they’re this little.”

Listening
to them talk about feeding the cats snapped me to attention and I whipped out
the kitten manual. “Yup, and we need to get going on that. The manual says we
need to weigh them to figure out how much to feed each kitten.”

“We have a
scale in the gym,” Hunter said.

“And we’ll
need to warm up the milk,” I added.

“We have a
microwave in the office,” Gary said.

I held up
the manual and pointed to the warning printed in bold font. “It says not to
microwave the formula.”

“Then
we’ll just run it under hot water until it’s the right temp. Can’t be that
hard,” Hunter said. “Let’s go.”

Preparing
the formula was quite an ordeal, but we managed to get it in the right amounts
and the right temperatures. Hunter had the bright idea of weighing himself with
and without the kitten rather than placing the little creature on the dirty
scale, demonstrating practical use of his physics knowledge. He might’ve been a
tough MMA fighter, but he was also pretty smart.

We had
three bottles and three people, so we fed the kittens in two shifts. Even in my
hand, the kittens felt small; they practically disappeared in Hunter’s and
Gary’s. As powerful as they were, though, they were gentle with the little
kitties, especially Hunter. He took particular joy in tickling the kitten’s
tummy after feeding it so it would burp.

“I think
it farted!” Hunter said, laughing.

I looked
over and narrowed my eyes.

“What? You
said that was good!” he cried.

I shook my
head. “You’re such a little boy,” I teased.

“Yeah, but
you love it.”

Gary took
the kitten he was feeding and set it back down on its blanket in the box. “Okay
guys, I gotta bounce. Get the kittens home safe.”

“Will do,”
Hunter said. “Later dude.”

We put our
kittens back in their box shortly after Gary left. They all fell asleep almost
immediately after being fed. Apparently kittens had to sleep
a lot
. I
got a little sketchpad out of my purse and decided I would sketch them. Maybe
the kittens could be a subject I could use for my portfolio.

“What do
you want to name them?” I asked.

“I was
thinking of naming them after MMA fighters. You know, Rampage, Iceman, that
kind of thing.”

“You want
to name a kitten Rampage?”

“Yeah,
after Quentin ‘Rampage’ Jackson. Then another one could be Iceman for Chuck
‘The Iceman’ Liddell, and then maybe Bones for Jon ‘Bones’ Jones.”

“Hunter,
they’re kittens.”

“Yeah, and
they would have awesome names.”

“I’m not
taking care of a kitten named Rampage.”

“Come on!
How about this: there are three boys and three girls. I’ll name the boy kittens
and you can name the girl kittens. That’s fair, right?”

I sighed.
“Sure.”

“Awesome.
So those are my three names, what are yours?”

“I don’t
know, give me a minute to think.”

Since
Hunter chose fighter names, I figured I’d choose painter names. “Okay, I’m
going to name one Georgia after Georgia O’Keefe.”

“Ah, the
woman who paints flowers that look like vaginas.”

I
chuckled. “Yeah, she’s a good artist. Then I’ll name another one Frida after
Frida Kahlo.”

“Is she a
painter too?”

“Yeah,
haven’t you seen that movie with Salma Hayek? You know, the one where she has
that unibrow thing going on?”

“Oh,
that’s right! I remember it now.”

I
struggled for a third name but couldn’t think of another famous painter. Why
did men have to be such dicks throughout history and not let women paint? After
a minute, I gave up and decided to go another direction. “And then the third
I’ll call Taylor.”

“Which
painter is that?”

“It’s not
a painter. I’m naming her after Taylor Swift.”

“The
singer?” He looked genuinely perplexed.

“Yup. Got
a problem with that?”

He
laughed. “Other than the fact that she always blames the guy for screwing up
the relationship— never taking responsibility for her own part—no I don’t have
a problem with that. I just didn’t realize you liked Taylor Swift. Isn’t she
kind of for middle school and high school girls?”

I
playfully stuck my tongue out at him. “Taylor Swift is universal, damn it! Her
songs are catchy and fun. Plus, she does take responsibility. She’s just never
the one at fault.”

“Fine,
fine,” he said, still laughing. “So Georgia, Frida, Taylor, Rampage, Iceman,
and Bones. I like it. We’ll figure out which kitten gets which name later. I’m
gonna go find a bag to put all this stuff in.”

He went
away and I sketched the kittens, thinking about which one would get which name.
It was only a couple minutes before he came back. He started putting the
supplies into the gym bag he’d found.

“Ya know,
you should come down to Bigg’s to train with me sometime,” Hunter said with a
smile on his face. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

I shot him
a wry grin. “I don’t think I’m interested in a sport where I have to wrestle
with gross sweaty guys.”

“You think
I’m gross?” he teased, taking mock offense.

“No, no,
that’s not what I meant.” In fact, I loved the way he smelled when sweaty but
I’d never tell him that. It would be too weird. “I guess I just don’t want to
get injured that’s all.”

“Don’t
worry, I won’t hurt you. Since it’s your first time, I’ll be gentle,” he
crooned.

I slapped
him on the arm playfully. “Shut up, Hunter. Why don’t you just offer to show me
the ways of the Kama Sutra while you’re at it?”

“Whoa
there! I never suggested that. You’ve got a filthy mind.”

“
Sure
,”
I replied sarcastically.

“But if
you want me to show you how to do the ‘rear naked choke’, I can certainly do
that.” He wiggled his brows.

I laughed
and rolled my eyes. “Is that even a real move?”

He laughed.
“Real move, unfortunate name. No, but in all seriousness, it’s fun and it’s
also a good workout.”

“Yeah, I
can imagine. But I’ve already got swim class to give me a good workout. Oh
speaking of which, my instructor for my swim class is Mitch McHenry. He said he
knows you.”

Hunter
paused for a moment then scoffed. “Yeah, he knows me.”

The change
in his tone was weird. “He said he was your ROTC instructor.”

“Yup.”

“But you
quit or something, right?”

He
stopped. “Or something,” he said after a moment.

It sounded
like it was something painful, but I couldn’t imagine what. “Were you kicked
out or something? Mitch said your evaluations were excellent.”

He took a
deep breath. “Something came up and I couldn’t do it anymore, so I stopped.
Listen, we have to get these kittens home. Want to help me with the bag while I
get the box?”

It was
obvious he didn’t want to talk about it, so I let the subject drop. His
reluctance to share the whole story made me wonder, though. What was he hiding?
Something that would stop him from doing ROTC had to be pretty big. The
possibilities ran through my mind as we walked back to his apartment. I’d
hidden things about my personal life from Hunter, but apparently he was hiding
things about himself as well. Druggie parents, kicked out of ROTC despite top
scores—it sounded like Hunter had a fucked up past like I did. I decided not to
prod him on it though. He hadn’t questioned me about my past even though it was
clear I was hiding something bad from him.