Nomad

by amahnak

Donovan Iniman isn't the best at settling down. He has a bad habit of picking up and moving when things go south. His latest move lands him in the coastal resort town of Oraton. Don makes fast friends with some of Oraton's residents, which is a much-needed solace. However, Don is eventually pulled into matters that'll put his relationships and resolve to the test.

3. Chapter 3

"No!"

Slipping on the puddle of coffee that some kid just spilled, my legs fly out from under me, sending me to the floor. I scramble away to the best of my ability as the tray of hot drinks I was carrying take to the air. They hit the floor and counter, splashing scalding coffee everywhere. Thankfully no customers are in reach, but the floor, counter, and my clothes are covered in the burning liquid. The teen and his group of friends burst into laughter as I pick myself up from the floor. I don't look at them as I pick up the cups, because I know I'll say something that'll get me fired. The teens continue to snicker as Maple, one of our waitresses, brings over a mop and cart. She takes the cups from me and tosses them into the trash. "You okay, honey?" she asks. I nod and glance over at the teenagers.

"If this were my place," I mumble, "those kids would be out on their asses."

"Ease up on the vulgarity, honey. Don't want Brewster to hear it. Agnes, Kyle, and I saw one of 'em pour his coffee on the floor right behind you," says the bear, pointing to a kid with short ginger hair. He sees us pointing and clears his throat.

"Don't even blame me," he says. "I didn't do a thing."

Maple points her mop at him, eyes narrowed. "We saw you!" she says. "Several of us did!"

I glance back at the counter as Maple engages in an argument with the group of kids. Agnes gives me a shrug and returns her attention to her station. Kyle stares toward us as he finishes preparing a customer's drink. After he's done, he walks around the counter and joins us. I groan internally as my coworkers argue with the group. Some customers are watching us, and an older human woman even joins in to chastise the teens. A few of our cooks are watching us through the kitchen window. Then I hear the office door open. Maple and I look at each other and sigh in unison.

"Of course this'd happen when Brewster is in for the morning..." she groans, bumping her forehead on my arm repeatedly.

Sure enough, our boss emerges from his office. He quietly approaches the commotion, wings behind his back and one foot in front of the other. He walks past Maple and I, giving us a side-eye through his glasses. He stops behind Kyle. The group of kids stop talking and stare up at the tall pigeon. Kyle turns around and jumps a bit. He steps out of the way.

"H-Hey, boss." he laughs, nervously.

Brewster nods at him and leans down to the ginger teen's level. Brewster pushes his glasses up on his beak and locks eyes with the kid.

"I suggest you leave," Brewster coos in his deep voice.

"Or what?" the teen asks, sitting up straight and staring coldly. His friends glance around nervously.

Brewster waves a wing to me. "You've cost us drinks, and you're lucky my employee isn't badly burned. Do you want your friends to see you get your very first assault charge?"

"I didn't even do anything, you old bird. You can't kick me out for nothing."

Brewster stands up straight. "Donovan. Give me your phone."

"Yes, sir." I hand him my cellphone.

The kid backs down and slides out of the booth. "Chill, dude! We're leaving." He exits the building quickly, his friends right behind him. Maple finishes cleaning the floor and Kyle brings me some towels. "Are you all right, Donovan?" asks Brewster, turning to me. "Yes sir," I say. "Just a little sticky."

"You looked quite upset."

"I was, but everyone jumped in to help. I don't want my day ruined by some kids."

Brewster chuckles to himself and nods as he returns to his office. Maple and I exchange looks of surprise. "He must be in a good mood today," she mumbles.

The pigeon is a head taller than me and is quite intimidating in his quiet, elegant demeanor. He's kind, though. Kyle and I finish our shifts a few hours later and head outside. We sit on a picnic table near the main parking lot of the shopping district, Kyle anxiously fiddling with his watch. There's a warm breeze this afternoon and as usual, the plaza is bustling. Leaves and branches of fruit trees rustle in the wind.

"Fang's still not too happy with me," says Kyle, looking out toward the cliff with a frown. That's a look I'm not used to seeing on his face.

"Did you drink his wine again?" I ask. "I thought you two made up."

"No, alpha, nothin' like that. I guess he was having a bad day or something, but last Tuesday he came in the house pretty pissed off. I got snappy with him and mentioned something about his niece. He went off on me."

"So that's why you crashed at my place."

"Yeah. Things have been tense between us. Sorry for not explaining."

"No problem, buddy. If you ever wanna tell me about it, I'm all ears. Sorta wish you'd just told me to begin with. The rest of us were wondering why you two were at odds."

Kyle sighs, returning his gaze to the cliff. I notice Isabelle leading a group of tourists around as usual. I wave to her. She sees Kyle and I sitting on the table and comes over, her bell jingling with each step. She stops in front of us, arms folded.

"Hey, Izzy," I say. "How are you holding up?"

"Evening, D. Can't complain," she says. "I won't have to juggle desk work with this junk, soon."

"Why's that?"

"I told the mayor I was quitting. I'm gonna work for someone who's decent, unlike Jill."

"You go, girl! Who's that?"

"Tom. He's got a new business starting up where he's flying people to islands off the coast. He calls it the 'Nook Inc. Deserted Island Getaway Package'. He's got permits to build there, and I heard he's trying to start a new resort or even a town. I'm going to do secretary work for him on one of the islands off the coast. My outfit will definitely fit there more than here."

"That's a long name. Congrats, though! Sick of your tourist garb?"

She smirks, tapping her fingers on her arm. "You know damn well I am," she mutters. "There's a downside to moving, though. I'll have to leave Oraton."

I feel my heart sink a bit. "I can't afford to commute every day," she says. "Tom's gonna build me a place on the island. I'll be moving out there next week."

I look at the ground, disheartened. I've only known Isabelle for a couple months and she's already taking off.

"Oh," I mumble. "I see, Izzy..."

"You upset?"

"A bit."

She wraps her arms around me and holds me. I feel the soft weight of her head against mine. "I feel you," she says. "I'm gonna miss my favorite barista. Don't worry, though. I'll see you again." I return the embrace and sigh. "I'm happy for you, man. Don't take any bark from anyone ever again. If you meet anyone remotely similar to Jill, be on your guard. Have fun out there."

"Thank you, Don. Really."

She pulls away and smiles at me, a sweet and somber gloss in her eyes. She sighs a soft hum and squeezes my arm. "I'll fly you out to the island sometime," she says, walking away, "since you like travelling so much."

I shudder, partly from surprise, but mostly from dread. My abrupt goodbye with Isabelle feels like a bad omen. It reminds me of my incident with Finkene. I wonder what my friends will think when my time to leave Oraton comes. Thankfully I'm pulled out of thought by Kyle's pokes. Fang has arrived. We get in his car and make our way to Lower Town. An uncomfortable silence hangs in the vehicle. No music plays. The only sound is the muffled rolling of tires on asphalt. Kyle taps my shoulder.

"Did you and Isabelle ever end up going on that date...?" he asks, trailing off.

"No," I say. "We decided that we're better as friends a long time ago. She's still not ready after what Jill did."

"To think the mayor would throw her secretary under the bus like that. I do get it, though. I'd be uncomfortable if my secretary liked me that way."

"Regardless, Jill did Isabelle dirty."

"At least she's moving forward now. Town won't feel the same without her."

Fang glances at me and yawns. Then he looks up to the rear-view mirror, locking eyes with Kyle. Kyle stares silently before his ears droop and he averts his eyes. Fang snorts and returns his attention to the road. I know exactly what Kyle's feeling right now. I've felt tiny under Fang's gaze. It's an icy look that makes you question whether you've made him furious. The kind of stare that makes you anxious. It's empty, but at the same time, you wonder whether contempt could be raging inside. I'm glad that I haven't fallen under the grey wolf's glare in a long time, but it makes me feel awful knowing that Kyle is the receiver now. Having a strained friendship with your roommate is something I know too well. Kyle wastes no time in exiting Fang's SUV when we arrive at OK Motors, only a few blocks away from our apartments. Kyle hurries over to the black birds running the auto shop to work out the retrieval of his car. Fang and I remain in the SUV. He watches Kyle in the distance and exhales a low groan.

"You know as well as I do that you and him are gonna have to make up..." I mutter.

"So you're gonna give me that, too?" he asks. "Tate's been bugging us nonstop about it, cha-chomp."

"Because we want to help. We're not trying to be officious."

"Really, now? Most of you humans are."

He smirks at me and leans on the window. I ramble to myself and roll my eyes.

"What?" Fang asks. "It was a joke! You and Tate are great humans."

"Ugh, save it."

Fang snickers and grins a toothy grin, pleased with his remark.

"Still," I say. "If you guys know what the deal is, you should fix it. It's not fair for Tate, Bianca, Celia, or me to sit around awkwardly and wait for our friends to make up. We want you two to be on good terms again."

Fang's smirk fades. He sighs and stares at the dashboard. "It's just...last week, I was already having a bad day after something my brother did. Then Kyle came around and ran his mouth about my niece."

"What exactly did he say?"

"He mumbled half of it, but I made out some sort of insult."

"Are you sure? Kyle isn't the type to talk dirty about someone's family."

"So you're gonna take his side?" Fang furrows his brow and throws his hands up. "Kyle could never do wrong, hm?"

"That's not what I meant," I snap. "Don't get worked up. He told me you were being rude to him before he even found out what your deal was!"

"And?"

"Dude, you're older than both of us. You know that you can't automatically blame someone for not knowing what's going on with you."

He stares at me and bites the inside of his mouth. He rubs his muzzle and shrugs.

"I'm not taking a side," I say. "Kyle needs to apologize for what he said, and you need to apologize for going off on him. It's mutual."

"Ugh, I know, I know!" Fang growls and grips the steering wheel. "Can't believe I'm bein' counselled by you."

"I mean it as your friend," I laugh.

"I'll get around to it..."

We see Kyle pull out of the garage and head off down the street. Fang puts the vehicle in drive and our silence is once again replaced by the whirring of locomotion.

---

The green and white eagle looks down at me as I lay across her lap. She runs her feathery fingers through my hair, making disgusted expressions at the knots she encounters. I wince each time she pulls.

"Stop moving!" Celia says. "You're gonna make me hurt you."

"Why do you want to cut my hair so bad?" I ask.

"Because I liked that undercut you had going on a while back, feathers."

I stare out over the balcony at the countless umbrellas littering the beach and palm trees waving in the wind. It's late evening and the sun is beginning to set. For most people in Oraton, a beach day runs well into the night. Then they become noisy parties. I smile and exhale deeply at the sensation of warm summer wind, salty ocean, and Celia's touch. Kyle lays on the couch, watching a music competition on TV and drifting in and out of sleep. Fang stands on the balcony with us, finishing a phone call.

"All right, thank you very much," he says.

"Did you make the reservation?" Celia asks, gently prodding me to sit up. She begins snipping at my hair.

"Yep. Eight o'clock. We're lucky they had an open spot left. It's Friday—there will be a ton of people."

"Consider us lucky," I say.

"You're gonna be really unlucky if you keep fidgeting!" Celia yells, pulling my hair.

Fang chuckles and leans on the railing. "Give him a little nick, cha-chomp. That'll teach him."

"That's what I'm trying to avoid."

"Sorry..." I mumble.

Kyle snores himself awake and groans in frustration. He trudges to the fridge and begins to chug an energy drink. Celia shakes her head as Fang watches. "I'll be back in a minute," he says. "Be ready to leave soon, you two."

"I can't exactly hurry this up!" Celia cries, only to be shut out by the sliding glass door. Fang approaches Kyle and the two begin to talk.

"Think they're finally getting over it?" I ask.

"I sure hope so." Celia says.

Snip, snip, snip.

Celia continues her work and hums to herself. I feel the wind graze the back of my head, hair now thinned and faded. I shiver a bit. Celia ruffles my hair and dries it before sweeping the remains off the balcony into the dumpster below. "Thanks," I say. "I appreciate it, Celia."

"Of course," she says. "Next time, sit still for Pete's sake."

We head inside to a chipper-looking Kyle.

"Yes!" he cheers, rowdily waving his arms. "I love surprise dinners!"

"Go change into something nice," Fang says. "This place is up-scale."

Kyle hurries into his room to find a nicer outfit. Fang breathes a sigh of relief, only for it to turn into a yawn. He looks at me, his eyes now wet from scrunching his face.

"I take it that you two made up?" I ask.

"Yep," he nods. "He's mostly excited about our outing."

Kyle quickly returns, reeking of cologne. Celia pinches her beak and heads out with the rest of us in tow. Kyle starts off down the hall, bopping with every step. I look at Fang again. "Raw Kyle..." he mumbles.

I hang back with Fang while Kyle follows Celia. I feel a great warmth surge in my chest. Kyle hops onto each railing and slides down each set of stairs in the stairwell. He certainly has pep in his step. Fang and I walk shoulder to shoulder.

"I'm glad he cheered up so fast," I say.

"I wish I had a better way with words," Fang says.

"Speak French to him. You know he finds it funny."

"It'll be a cold day in Hell before I do that again."

"Wasn't your mother born in Quebec? Don't waste what little knowledge of French she gave you!"

"My French is terrible and I'm not gonna let you guys tease me about it."

"It's interesting to hear!"

"Sure, kid, sure."

Fang and I share a laugh and continue to chat. We head across the side parking lot of the building to Kyle's hatchback. He picks up the pace and jogs over to Celia, who waits at the car. Once again, she holds her beak when he gets close. Celia joins me in the back behind the passenger seat so as to maintain as much distance as possible between her and Kyle. Fang sits up front.

"So what's this place called again?" I ask.

"Lofter's," he says.

Kyle's ears perk up in excitement. "I've always wanted to go there!"

The rest of the car ride is filled with laughter and obnoxiously loud rock music. We arrive at Lofter's twenty minutes later. The building is two stories tall. It has an ornate, brick exterior with multiple rose bushes surrounding the front doors. The sign reads "Lofter's: Lower Derure's Best Bar and Grill". We all climb out of the car and meet up with Tate and Bianca near the entrance of the building. Tate is almost dwarfed by the tall white tiger. She holds his hand tightly. Kyle sways his hips against me in an attempt to get me to join him. I humor him and give him a slight bump, much to his joy. He does the same with Celia. She brushes her dress off and refuses to humor him. A server eventually leads us to a spot near the middle of the first floor. There are people and animals everywhere. Chandeliers hang from the ceilings. The second floor wraps around several pillars with a large open view of the first. A large stage sits in the middle of the first floor. A band is playing live atop it.

I remember when Tota used to perform in my hometown. I miss his singing. I would always hang out with him and even sing onstage with him, occasionally. Tota's a traveler too, now. Goes all over the place with his guitar. I wonder what that dog's up to...

I pile into a huge booth with Kyle and Tate beside me. After taking our time to order, Kyle begins to tell everyone about the issue at work this morning. He puts an arm around my shoulder and laughs throughout the entirety of the story, barely managing to breathe. He repeatedly mocks the looks on the kids' faces when Brewster approached them. Everyone seems to be entertained, save for Fang. The band onstage announces that they're about to play a slow song and encourages people to meet on the dance floor. My eyes drift to the bar. A short hedgehog slides off her stool and leans on the counter. Her outfit looks both attractive and professional—a navy blue cardigan over a grey shirt, slim black dress pants, and black flats. Reminds of the stuff my mother used to wear when she was a receptionist. The hedgehog stretches her arms over her head, gold bracelets clinking together. She takes a sip of her drink and looks toward me. Embarrassed, I turn away quickly. I feel my cheeks flush red. What is it with me and eye contact...?

"Wanna show us your moves, Don?" asks Bianca, nodding toward the floor.

"A-Absolutely not!" I mumble.

"Aw, what's wrong? Not a dancer?"

"Not in front of all these people!"

She glances at Kyle and smirks. Kyle nods and begins to pull me out of the booth.

"No!" I growl as I attempt to pull away from Kyle. Tate looks at me with a grin—half mischief and half sympathy. He quickly turns away and stifles a laugh. "Stop him!" I cry. Tate looks back at me with false concern. He puts his hand over his heart and opens his mouth to speak, but the words fall short. He snorts and bursts into laughter. Kyle wrestles me out of the seat and pulls me onto the dance floor. I look back and see that Bianca and Tate are recording on their phones. I look around me. Couples fill the floor, mostly intra-race. Humans with humans and animals with animals. Kyle and I are the only human-animal pair on the floor. Wouldn't hurt for Tate and Bianca to join us...

I can feel eyes on us from every angle. The band begins to play a slow, sad song led by an acoustic guitar. The keyboardist provides the backing melody. The couples begin to sway and wrap their arms around each other. Kyle barely manages to contain his laughter as he snakes his arms around my waist. I try to squirm away and smack at his hands, only to be pulled tight. He begins to sway from side to side. I can feel him shaking with laughter against me.

"You son of a bitch..." I whisper, putting my arms around his neck. Although embarrassment has given me a cold sweat, I find the softness of Kyle's fluffy fur a bit comforting.

"It's just one song," Kyle snickers.

"I'm gonna kill you..."

Kyle laughs again and continues dancing. I let my eyes wander the room. People above us on the second floor are focused on us. I notice the hedgehog girl watching me. She has a slight grin on her face. Once again, I feel tiny under the scrutiny of someone else. Kyle and I rock from side to side more rowdily than the other couples. Once people realize we're goofing around, their stares soften. The song finally ends and Kyle lets go of me with another chuckle. He gives me a slap on the rear and begins to walk back to the table as the band announces their next song. As I turn to head back to the table, someone waves at me. I look over and a shiver runs down my spine.

"H'lo there, stranger."

The hedgehog stands in front of me. Up close, I can see that she's wearing a hint of blue eye shadow.

"Noticed you were looking me over," she says, a slight flush in her cheeks and a hint of alcohol on her breath.

"S-Sorry about that," I say with a faint smile. "Was just doing some admiring around the place. I like your outfit."

"Thank you," she says, smiling slightly. "Handmade by some old colleagues of mine."

She turns around, revealing a logo on the back of the cardigan. Able Sisters is neatly embroidered in small letters near the right sleeve. The girl turns back to me and glances me up and down, as if looking for a flaw in my attire. She narrows her eyes and stares at my jacket. Then she gasps.

"GracieGrace...?!"

"Y-Yeah...?"

"I have some history with that brand. Looks good on you, if I may be so bold."

I thank the girl and shift my weight to my left leg.

"Got a name, stranger?" she asks.

"Donovan. You?"

"Call me Labelle."

"Very nice to meet you," I say. "I've never known a Labelle before."

"A man doesn't usually dress so well without purpose," she teases. "This is a fancy place, but GracieGrace? That's way up there, hon. Any reason you're here in particular?"

She gives me a mischievous bat of her eyelids. Should I play into her little game...?

"Here with a few friends for dinner. Perhaps I overdressed."

She motions toward the bar. "It's eye-catching. Mind if I steal you away from your friends for a bit?"

I glance toward my table. Kyle and Tate are nodding toward me, smiling enthusiastically. Fang and the others stare, eyes wide as they whisper to each other. I look back to Labelle and give her a half-smile and a shake of the head.

"Ma'am, you're very charming, but with all due respect...I don't think I should engage with you if you've been drinking."

She gives me a look of surprise until she closes her eyes and smiles.

"So be it," she says, a bit of disappointment in her voice. "For the record, I've only had one drink. I appreciate your responsibility, though."

"Just trying to be decent," I say. "It's the right thing to do. I've seen from friends that getting too talkative at the bar leads to regret..."

Her eyes dart from side to side ever so slightly, taking in my features. She exhales deeply and lets out a giggle. "Could I trouble you for just a dance, then?" she asks. "Maybe we can talk another time if we meet."

I feel a small jolt of surprise in my stomach. "O-Oh, wow..." I mumble. "You're very straightforward."

"I have to be," she giggles. "What do you think?"

"Let's dance, then."

She holds a paw out to me. Her face displays a sweet smile, but I can see a sparkle of something else in her eyes. I take her paw and she pulls herself to me.

"You danced quite silly with your friend," she says, "I think you could use a few pointers."

"Really now?"

She laughs again and begins to sway with me. She wraps her arms around my neck as I gently hold mine around her waist. "Consider this a beginning lesson," she says. "Start with tightening your grip."

She wiggles a bit. I wrap my arms gently, but firmly around her waist. She nods. "Now keep in step with me and keep your eyes on mine..."

She stares straight into my eyes. I feel another chill as my eyes dart away.

"Eyes on mine," Labelle says again. "You need to feel connected to your partner."

I swallow and look down at her again. She stares at me. I can see her honey brown eyes drifting ever so slightly across my face. I look toward my table. Fang's tail is swishing. He's tapping his fingers on the table and watching us intently. Labelle and I sway with each other for a moment in silence before I speak up.

"T-There are a lot of people watching us..." I say.

"Sure are," she says. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"The stares give me a bit of anxiety."

"Ah, I see. Don't worry. People who stare at you don't always think bad of you. Have you danced before?"

"Once or twice. It's been quite a while."

"If you've danced, then why are you giving me such a hard time?"

"Giving you a hard time?!"

"I'm trying to be nice and give you some pointers. You won't listen."

"Everyone in this town likes to tease, huh?"

"You could say that. People become close quickly here."

"I suppose that seems about right. I mean, we've only just met and here we are, dancing."

She giggles and gives me a slight squeeze. I break eye contact and look around again. I stare at my table. Kyle and Bianca are recording my dance with Labelle. Fang is nowhere to be seen. I look around the restaurant. Actually, a bunch of people are recording. I glance back to my table as a wave of confusion hits me. Fang is still missing.

"You don't listen too well," Labelle says. She pulls me toward her so that she's pressed against my chest. I stumble a bit and bump her forehead. Her fur is soft and smells clean and sweet. I inhale softly. She smells of dessert. Something creamy and vanilla. I pull my head off of hers and look down. Her face is mere inches from mine. "Since you won't look at me," she says, "I'll have to fail your first lesson."

"I'm looking at you now," I say. "Your face is practically in mine. You're all I can see."

"Is that so bad?"

I fight the urge to look away. "N-No..." I say with a shaky voice. "It's not bad at all..."

"Your heart's racing."

"I-Is it?"

"You're easily flustered, it seems. It's a bit endearing."

"You're a sweet-talker. Are you this bold when you aren't buzzed?"

"I'm just having some fun."

She nuzzles into me. I hold her firmly against me as we dance until the song ends. As we let go of each other, her hand trails from my neck and down my arm, lightly brushing against my fingers as she passes me. I can still feel hundreds of eyes on me, people watching with their mouths agape. Most have finished recording. They're pointing to me and Labelle and whispering to each other. We clear off the floor. She gives me a wink and takes her place at the bar. I slide back into the booth with everyone else. Kyle nudges me excitedly.

"Now what was that, alpha?" he asks. "You're already fooling around with a celebrity?!"

"W-What...?"

"Did you see the way she was holdin' you? She was totally up in your face! Do you even know who that is?!"

"Said her name was Labelle. Why was everyone recording us?"

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!"

Everyone at the table looks at each other, exchanging expressions of surprise. Tate stares at me, eyes wide.

"That's Labelle Able!" he says, brushing his black hair out of his eyes. "She's one of the Able Sisters and she's rich as hell! They have one of the most successful clothing brands in Lower Derure."

"I know what the brand is, but...what? Labelle is an Able? She didn't mention that."

"And you get on me about being clueless!" snaps Kyle.

Bianca nods. "I'm surprised you haven't heard of this. It was all over the news years ago. Labelle left her sisters to work with Gracie and her brand. She came back to her sisters after a while to work in their shop, but it's been bad blood ever since."

"So that's why she was so interested in my jacket. She said the Able Sisters were her old colleagues, not her sisters..."

"She ditched them hard, glimmer." Bianca says.

Kyle bursts into laughter. We finally begin to eat. I can't help but let my eyes wander to the bar. Labelle sits up straight, chatting and laughing with her friends. I try to engage myself with the conversation at the table, only to zone out and watch Labelle more. This woman is already hiding things. Still, I can't shake the vision of my dance with the Able from my mind. She's bold. After a while longer, we shuffle out of the booth and begin to leave. The band onstage has packed up and left. As we head to the door, Labelle approaches me. She slips a small piece of paper into my hand.

"Let me know when you're free," she says, "and we can move on to your second lesson."

She smiles a devilish and sweet smile as she squeezes my hand. Then she saunters away to a group of watching women, a noticeable strut and sway in her hips. I open the slip of paper. Written on it is her phone number, a small heart to the side. Kyle grabs my arms and shakes them like battle ropes in a gym. "Ahhh!" he squeals. "That wasn't even a business card! She straight-up gave you her phone number!"

I stare blankly as I watch Labelle leave the building, Kyle shaking me roughly. I snap out of it and return my attention to the group.

"Good on you," Tate says. "You're already moving way up ahead of us."

"It's not like that," I laugh.

"Oh, it will be!" laughs Kyle. "You better remember us when you're famous!"

I brush him off and we share a laugh. Fang reappears as we exit the building, but remains silent throughout the entire conversation, even on the ride back home. When we disperse in the parking lot, I walk with him and Kyle to our building. As per usual, Kyle dances along a few steps ahead of us. I look at Fang. He stares ahead blankly.

"You good?" I ask.

I'm dandy," he says, gritting his teeth. His tail swishes again. After we exit the elevator, I stare at the floor in front of me, fighting my urge to look Fang in the eyes. I want to press him further, but I know that wouldn't be smart. Did I do something to make him angry? If not, maybe something happened at the table while I was away? I ponder as I walk until I bump into the dancing fool that is Kyle. He grabs my hand and gives me some sort of friendly "handshake" before heading inside his apartment. I stop Fang before he enters.

"H-Hey," I mumble. "Sorry to ask again, but...are you sure you're okay? What's up?"

He finally looks at me and sighs, most likely at the tone of my voice. His ears begin to droop as he looks to the side, but then fold back as if angry. He steps inside, and before closing the door, leaves me with a clear message.

"Stay away from Labelle."

I stand alone in the hallway, blinking at the closed door in front of me. Confusion and irritation swirl inside me. I mutter to myself and start off toward my apartment. I open the door and shut it a bit more forcefully than I intend. I throw my wallet and keys on the table and head out on the balcony. I take a deep breath and think. What in the hell is Fang's issue? Things seemed completely fine until I took to the floor. Did it have something to do with Labelle? He explicitly mentioned her name. Perhaps I'm reading into it too much, but it seemed like it almost disgusted him to say her name. Maybe he knows something I don't and is giving me a warning. Maybe it's something personal. Regardless, I can't help but find myself get more frustrated as I think.

Stay away from Labelle.

I grunt out of irritation and pick up my phone. I've been offering Fang my ear and advice so much lately, and he won't even take the time to answer my simple questions? If Fang's just going to slam his door in my face without an explanation, I probably shouldn't worry too much. Fed up and bored, I text the number Labelle gave me.

I glance toward Fang's balcony and roll my eyes.

Hey, it's Donovan.