Catnip

03 | In Which Caleb Makes a Deal With the Devil

Caleb's smile fades.

            ~    ~    ~

"So, what time did you say your mom's home again?"

Caleb unlocks the front door and shoves it wide open, caution damned. "I didn't."

"Uh, right. Okay." Daniel cups the back of his neck, looking more than a little confused. Marnie really should've warned him what he'd be dealing with when he signed up for this, but it's too late now and Caleb's not about to tone down his attitude for anyone's sake. With a sigh, he heads inside, cleans his shoes off on the welcome mat and then peers back over his shoulder. Daniel's still just standing there in the doorway. What's he waiting for, a hand-written invitation?

"Are you planning on coming inside any time this year?"

"Sorry." He steps inside and nudges the door shut behind him. Caleb grits his teeth, an action that doesn't go by unnoticed. "Uh, did I do something wrong?"

"Your shoes."

"All right . . . But I'm not wearing the boots. I listened to you, see?"

"Yeah, but you didn't clean them. The welcome mat exists for a reason, Daniel."

"Oh."

"And you need to take them off once you're done. I don't want you trailing mud on the floor."

"Right, uh, sure. Sorry." And then, in a pitiful display of gracelessness, he stumbles around, hopping between one foot and the other, finally pulling the sneakers off after, oh, only five goddamn minutes.

By this point, Caleb's hanging onto patience by a thread.

He snatches the shoes from Daniel's hands and opens the cupboard under the stairs. Then frowns. Daniel's a good few shoes sizes larger than him. The sneakers can't be placed in the gap between his Air Nikes and Maya's Docs, not without looking out of place and fucking up the whole system. Dammit! He'll need to rearrange things, move all his shoes down so that Daniel's can be placed at the end of the row –

"Uh, Caleb?"

"What?" he snaps. Can't Daniel see he's busy figuring out something of vital importance?

"You can just toss 'em in any way, you know? I don't mind."

"But they're arranged based on size. I can't just 'toss them in.'"

"Relax, man. No one's gonna fine you for disrespecting shoes or whatever."

"That's not the point. The point is there's an order to things, and –"

"And you're a neat freak."

"I'm not a neat freak."

"Okay. But you're kinda acting like –"

"Dude, I'm not a fucking neat freak."

"Okay! I'm sorry." Daniel holds his hands up behind his head. The veins in Caleb's forehead bulge. "You're not a neat freak. Got it."

"I just appreciate tidiness."

"Okay."

"And I appreciate people who appreciate tidiness."

"Okay."

"Oh, fucking hell. Will you stop saying okay?"

"Okay –" Daniel covers his mouth. "Sorry."

Caleb slaps his forehead, resisting the urge to knock his head against the wall. "All right, new ground rule: so long as you're in my house, you are hereby banned from saying 'okay' or 'sorry.'"