Rimmel

I showed up early and stayed late.

There was just something about this place that I needed extra of today.

Well, I knew what it was. The consistency, the fact that I knew what to expect here. I knew what I was getting when I walked in the door.

Animals were so much better than people. They didn’t expect anything, they didn’t judge, and they were real all the time. I loved the honesty animals lived by. Nothing about them was fake. They showed how they were feeling without apology.

It was why I wanted to become a veterinarian. I wanted to give back everything I’d been given. I wanted to be their voice when they couldn’t speak. I wanted to be the friend they always were. I wanted the ability to make them feel better when they were sick.

I wasn’t good with people… but animals… animals were my passion.

Once I was finished mopping the back room, I emptied out the bucket and set everything in place to dry. I flicked off the lights and wandered into the room where we kept all the cats.

Metal crates lined the walls, some stacked together. The floors were made of white tile and the walls were painted white as well. Posters of animals lined the walls along with some other images of celebrities that supported animal rescue. Against the far wall were a bunch of cabinets that held food and supplies for the cats.

Cats weren’t quite as open with their affection as dogs, but it was something I understood. Cats remained aloof and reserved; they were very independent. They liked to study people; they liked to really know who they were dealing with before they got too close. Some cats never bothered to get too close to anyone.

Life taught me to be the same way.

In the corner of the room, on the bottom of the stack of cages, was Murphy. He was curled up in the corner of his home with his face tucked into the curve of his body. I sank down onto the floor in front of the door, unlatching it and swinging it open.

He perked up his head and stared at me, the light green of his eye was always the focus against his midnight fur.

It was even more a focal point because there was only one.

Murphy came to the shelter badly injured and malnourished. He lost his left eye shortly after. No one was ever sure what happened to him. That was over a year ago. He was no longer too thin and frail. His fur wasn’t dull and matte, but sleek and shiny. The left side of his face was intact, but where there should be a large green eye, there wasn’t. The skin and fur had been stitched together where it healed. And in place of his eye was a curved sort of line, a scar, but it was covered with hair.

“Hey, Murphy,” I said softly, holding out my hand for him to smell.

He touched the tip of his cool nose to my finger and I smiled. Keeping my actions deliberate, I slid my fingers up onto his head and scratched behind his ear. The sound of deep purring filled the space around us, and I smiled.

“Sorry I didn’t come by yesterday,” I told him. “I have to tutor someone at school. He’s going to be a real pain in the butt.”

Murphy yawned and pulled away from my scratches.

I smiled. He was as bored by Romeo as I was. ‘Course, if I were honest, Romeo didn’t really bore me. That was one of the reasons I dreaded going there so much.

The cage above Murphy was empty. “Looks like your neighbor got adopted,” I said.

Michelle, one of the shelter employees, came in behind me. “Yep, earlier today.”

“That’s great,” I said. It was the primary goal of this shelter to care for animals but ultimately find them permanent and loving homes.

But no one ever wanted Murphy.

Maybe it was why I loved him so much. I felt sort of an odd connection with the cat no one wanted. He didn’t fit the image of a good family cat. He was blackest of black, which made it harder for him in the first place. Black pets were always the last to get adopted. Maybe because they didn’t appear as friendly and cuddly as the others. Maybe because they looked a little dangerous… and maybe it was because of the stigma that black cats brought bad luck.

But even when someone got past the color of his fur, they would notice the scar and missing eye. He appeared damaged. He appeared to have had a rough life (which, yeah, maybe he had), and no one wanted to deal with damaged. It made them uncomfortable.

So Murphy was continuously bypassed. He was ignored. He’d lived in that cage for the last year as all the other cats came and went.

If I didn’t live in a dorm, I would have already taken him home with me.

“What are you still doing here?” Michelle asked as she bustled around the room.

I gave Murphy one last stroke and then latched the door and stood. “I wanted to spend some extra time cleaning in the back. It was a mess.”

Michelle smiled. “You’re the only college student I know who would rather clean than hang out with her friends.”

That’s because I didn’t have any friends.

“Did Sarah tell you that I wouldn’t be here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for a while?” I asked, ignoring her statement and the hollow feeling it gave me inside.

Michelle turned from what she was doing and gave me a smile. “Are you tutoring a guy?”

I smiled slightly at the gossipy tone in her voice. “Yes.”

“Tell me he’s super hot.”

I laughed but shrugged. “He’s okay.”

Michelle groaned. “That good?”

I felt my forehead wrinkle with her response.

She shook her head. “I know you, Rimmel. You downplay everything. So if you’re saying he’s okay, then I know you’re drooling on the inside.”

I laughed. “I don’t drool.”

Michelle turned serious. “Have fun. Get to know him. Maybe—”

I held up my hand and halted her words. “It’s just tutoring.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Yes, it does.” If she only knew I was tutoring the campus celebrity, then she would understand.

Michelle sighed. “Rimmel,” she said and came to stand before me. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“Huh?” I pushed the glasses up on my nose.

“You are such a good person. You have so much to offer. Let him get to know you.”

A lump formed in my throat. She was just talking, just words. She was just trying to be nice. Michelle didn’t know what I did.

Or maybe she did realize. Maybe she was just trying to make me feel good.

It only made me feel worse.

I glanced back at Murphy. My kindred spirit. Underneath, he was a good cat. Loyal and loving. But no one ever bothered to look past his rough exterior, because in reality, looks meant more than everyone wanted to admit.

Romeo was just like everyone else. My exterior would keep him at arm’s length, exactly as it should. I didn’t belong in Romeo’s world. I was like a round peg to his square hole.

“I should be going,” I said, grabbing my bag from the table. “I’ll see you Saturday morning.”

I hurried out of the shelter before she could say anything else.

The air was cold and crisp. I stood out on the sidewalk, stared up at the inky night sky, and shivered. I still wasn’t used to all these seasonal changes. In Florida, it was always warm. I really needed to remember a jacket.

My scooter was parked outside the shelter. I didn’t have a car and driving this made getting around sometimes a little easier, but it wasn’t a very warm way to travel. As I climbed onto the seat and strapped on my helmet, I knew soon I was going to have to park this thing for the winter.

My dorm was on the second floor of the building, and I had to use my ID to let myself in. Girls milled around, the hallways filled with giggling and the scent of perfume. I could hear a few TVs behind doors and a few more with music playing.

My dorm was one of the ones with music. I let myself in and the sounds of Bruno Mars grew louder. I dumped my bag on the end of my neatly made bed as Ivy, my roommate, turned from her mirror.

“Ugh!” she burst out. “I have nothing to wear!”

Her bed was covered in rumpled tops and jeans. The floor was littered with boots and flats. It wasn’t anything new. She was always searching for the perfect outfit, and it was rare her side of the room was ever neat.

“What’s wrong with what you have on?” I asked, sinking down onto the bed.

“This!” she demanded, motioning toward a pair of yoga pants and a loose top. “This is loungewear!”

I didn’t care about clothes. They seemed like a waste of energy… and also something that got you noticed. Sometimes being invisible was better.

“I’m sure whatever you pick will be fabulous,” I replied and scooped up my shower tote with everything I needed to shower before bed.

“Hey, so how’d tutoring go?” she asked.

Ivy and I weren’t really friends, but we were roommates who lived in very close quarters. She wasn’t the silent type; she was bubbly and talkative and she asked a lot of questions. It was easier to answer her than try to evade.

Besides, I kinda liked talking to her.

I rolled my eyes. “He’s a complete douche.”

“Is he at least hot?”

My lips curved into a smile. I wondered what she would say if I told her it was Romeo. She’d probably pee her pants.

Before I could say anything, Ivy turned back to the mirror. “Never mind. Of course he isn’t hot. What hottie goes and sits in the library three days a week to get tutored? Lame.”

I swallowed Romeo’s name on my tongue. I knew she didn’t mean it as an insult, but it still stung. I went to the library all the time.

I let myself out of the room and went down the hall to the bathroom. Suddenly, I was very tired.