"Oh, my gosh! Millie!" I look back at the crate sitting on the counter and the eager but sleepy pup inside with drooping eyes. I rush out into the car park, but Smiles is gone.
I go back in and see Peter standing there with his hands on his hips. "He forgot the dog, didn't he?"
"Yup."
"Well, he'll realize his mistake sooner or later. He can pick her up tomorrow morning," Peter yawns and puts a hand on my back. "Nothing more we can do now, Gale. Carter and Mary are coming in for the open adoptions tonight, and we're closing up here in a few minutes. Millie will be fine in one of the kennels overnight."
It's still pretty early in the afternoon, but we close early on Mondays because our clinic isn't just for treating animals that need emergency care. There's a kennel connected to our building. There are more exclusive rooms for recovering patients that are quieter and better suited to the injured animals, and then there's the general kennel for stray animals brought our way. This is London after all, there are an abundance of stray animals on the streets that get brought into our clinic so often that two decades ago, the owner just added a kennel onto the building for the animals brought in. Now, every Monday afternoon, we devote our time to getting those animals adopted. There are still a few doctors in the building if there's an absolute emergency walk-in, but we can't take appointments, and even if we wanted to get Smiles back here, his contact information isn't listed because Millie is registered under Gemma Styles.
And Millie would be fine in the kennels if they weren't absolutely full. It's almost winter, people feel the worst for stray animals out in the cold, so they bring them here which we don't mind when they're not taking space away from our recently treated patients.
"No, we don't have any room in the kennels, Peter, or I would have suggested leaving her here for a few days anyway. She should be able to recover at home just fine, but you know normally we would have kept her for a while just to make sure she starts healing normally," I explain, sighing. "She's either going to have to sleep in that tiny crate, or come home with one of us."
Peter reaches a few fingers through the bars so Millie can sniff him. "I'd take her, but my wife might kill me if I bring home another animal. What about you? You seem to know the owner, and you're amazing with animals."
I can't help but imagine taking Millie home and then inviting Smiles over to come get her later. I would call him and probably laugh at his absentmindedness for leaving her here. Millie's also a good dog, she wouldn't cause any trouble in my apartment and I don't have any pets to contend with. I'd love to take her!
Too bad my apartment has a no pets allowed policy. That did give me an idea though. I reach into my pocket and pull out the slip of paper with Smiles' number on it.
"Hey...Smiles?" I ask tentatively once I typed the number into my phone. I'd consider the possibility that he'd given me a fake number. Everything about him had seemed too honest, and I can't help but feel he has an ulterior motive.
His honey-like voice soothes my anxieties when he responds, "Daisy. I was expecting a call from you eventually, but not so soon. Did you miss me?"
"Ha-ha. Dream on, glitter boy," I shoot back with an eyeroll.
"Ouch. Words hurt, beautiful temptress. I'm fragile." At that, I laugh outloud.
"My apologies, sweet little duckling."
"That's better. Now, did you have another reason for calling or did you actually miss the dulcet tones of my melodic voice?" After that, there's a series of honks and other road percussion and I'm reminded of the issue at hand.
"Yeah...how close are you to your house?" I ask, trying not to sound implicative.
It doesn't work and he makes it dirty anyway. "Almost there, why? Afraid you missed your chance? Do you want me to swing back and take you home with me?"
"You forgot Millie, Harry."
There's a minute of silence where he processes my words. "Shit."
"Yeah, and we don't have the kennel space to hold her overnight. Could you 'swing back' and grab her?" I ask, looking at Peter beside me. We both wait in bated breath to see if one of us will have to get in trouble tonight for taking the dog home.
"Sure. I've been going all day, what's another hour more? I'll be right there," he answers with a tired voice. I pump my fist quietly and nod to Peter. He clutches his chest in relief and then salutes me goodbye as he leaves the clinic.
I hop up on the counter next to Millie's crate and dangle my legs a bit. "Hey, that reminds me. Are you really talking on the phone while driving? That's not safe."
There's a slight chuckle from the other end before he responds. "Your concern flatters me, Daisy, but no. Someone else is driving."
"Good," is all I manage to get out after being taken aback by his accusation of me caring for him and then being taken aback by the possibility that I actually might.
I can't see his expression on the other end of the line, but I imagine it's something like an amused smile. He yawns. "Would you stay on the line with me though? Just to make sure I stay awake?"
"To make sure you stay awake? I seem to recall a certain someone finding my shoulder a nice pillow on the plane. You've had more sleep than I have in the past twenty-four hours," I respond.
"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask, why are you working today?" he asks. "You just spent a seven hour plane ride babysitting me, not to mention the fact that it was a forward time zone jump and we lost four hours. How are you still standing?"
"Oh, I've had lots of practice. Remember when I told you the wildest thing I've ever done was stay awake for like a week during finals?" I cringe almost the second the playful question leaves my mouth. Of course he doesn't remember. He's a celebrity, he's got so many other important things to worry about remembering. I've just set him up for the most awkward 'no' ever.
He laughs. "Yeah, on Redbull and Jaffa Cakes, right? I should have known, medical field professionals like you know how to keep yourselves awake."
My stomach flips in pure joy, and an uncontrollable grin spreads across my face. I bite my bottom lip. "I guess."
There's a pause between us, but it's not quite awkward. We're just both so tired and everything that needed to be said has been said.
Smiles inhales deeply. "Well, we're almost to the clinic now. I guess, I'll see you when we get there."
"Yup, I'll see you here." I pull the phone away from my face and look at it until he presses the hang up button and ends the call. It took long enough that I suspect he had done the same thing, just staring at the number on the screen and reveling in our new phone friendship.
I put my phone down and bring my fingers to the bars of Millie's crate. She licks them happily with a tiny, soft, pink tongue. "Hi, sweetheart. Smiles is coming to pick you up now, he didn't mean to forget you. Oh, I suppose you know him as Harry, don't you? Everyone knows him as Harry." She settles into a lying position, leaning the side of her head against the bars. I reach through and scritch her head.
"But they don't really know him, do they? I'm sure you know him though, he doesn't put on airs around you because you're just a snuggly puppy," I coo. She closes her eyes in pleasure as I continue to scratch her head.
"What I would give to be you and see Smiles when he thinks no one's looking." I pause. Millie opens her eyes and looks up at me inquisitively as if to ask Why did you stop giving scritches? "Was that creepy? I didn't mean it in a creepy way. I just...I think it would be nice if he didn't have to be careful about what he did and said around everyone. I think it would be nice to know the Harry he doesn't share with the world."
Millie blinks and I smile at her just as a normal looking car pulls into the car park out front. A hooded Smiles with his head down gets out and looks around thoroughly before coming to the door. He comes inside with bright eyes and breaks into that radiant smile when he sees me.
"Daisy," he says in greeting.
"Smiles," I respond with a small wave. I put a hand on top of Millie's crate. "Here's the forgotten patient."
He nods. "I'm jetlagged. Can you blame me?"
The corners of my mouth twitch downward as I consider his question. "I mean, I performed surgery on your sister's dog with just as much jetlag, and that turned out fine."
It wasn't the jetlag that made him forget. He was distracted, and I know exactly why.
"Yeah?" Smiles answers, catching onto my playfulness. "Well, I already knew you were extraordinary, so that doesn't surprise me."
I blush as he comes closer and puts his hand on top of mine on the carrier.
"You know," he starts, "when I gave you my number, I really didn't think our first phone call would be about my sister's dog."
I giggle. "Really? What did you think it'd be about?"
"Oh, I don't know. Dinner?" He lifts his eyebrows and shrugs, bringing his hand out from behind his back, holding the crumpled daisy that's switched hands more times than I can count.
I allow a sly smirk to flicker across my lips as I reach out slowly to take the disheveled flower from him before tampering down on the excitement. "Is this you asking me out?"
"That depends, is this you saying yes?"
I bite my lip and look down at the daisy in my hands, trying to process the whole flurry of emotions cycloning in my mind.
Just as I open my mouth to respond, my phone begins to ring. I pick it up and check the caller ID. Kaden. Kaden!
My eyes go wide, and I loose an involuntary gasp. I set the flower down on the counter and glance at Smiles once before sputtering quickly, "I'm so sorry, I have to take this."
I answer the call and hop off the counter at the same time. "Kaden! Are you ok? Where are you?"
I walk absentmindedly down the hall where our surgery rooms are. Kaden has been missing all day, I was seriously worried, but I grow even more worried when he doesn't respond right away. There's a bit of wind and static on the other end, and then what sounds like the rustle of clothing.
"Kaden?" I try again.
"Gale..." he mumbles weakly. Something is seriously wrong. My mind flies to the worst case scenarios. He's been kidnapped and he's dying. Someone broke into his house and he's dying. He's been in a terrible accident and he's dying. I hear a deep, heaving breath on the line.
I sense rather than see Smiles approach me slowly before saying something to me. Because I'm straining to hear Kaden so hard, I can't even tell what the other boy in the same room as me said.
"Gale...?" His voice is even softer this time. Then he says something else, but I can't quite make out what he said because Smiles is still talking.
I wave a dismissive hand at Smiles, he has his dog now, we can text later. Kaden is more important right now! Then I bring that hand up to the side of my head to plug my free ear to better hear my friend as I make my way further down the hall to the break room where my handbag and keys are. "Kaden? Where are you?"
Should I call the police? I wish he could just tell me what's wrong.
He finally says something other than my name, mumbling very incoherently, "I'm at home. Can you come help me?"
"What's wrong, Kaden? Are you hurt?" I ask desperately. Horrible images of him bleeding out at home, alone, flash through my mind, and I nearly trip out the door on my way to the car park.
"Um...let me check," he mutters. Then after a pause, "No."
I pause for a moment in the middle of the lot to heave a huge sigh of relief. "Well, then, what is wrong?"
"I was feeling sssad yesterday...and ssso I had a drink," he mumbles, slurring his words together. "And then I had another and another and another. And then I lossst count, and when I woke up, I just felt awful! Ssso I had another drink and another and another."
He's drunk. That's two calls from drunk friends in four days, a record for me. I guess I should feel honored that I'm the person they want to talk to when drunk. I'd much rather they call me than another person who wouldn't treat them the same way I would. I've always had a way with drunk people. They're a handful, but they're sweet most of the time. I remember a few nights from college when my friends dragged me out to a party or two. I was always the designated driver and I never had a problem wrangling the drunks.
The strange thing is, Kaden doesn't drink. Ever. In all my years of knowing him, in all the times we've gone out for a drink after work, I have never seen him drink alcohol. He's old enough, sure, and I guess he's never mentioned anything about making a point of not drinking. He just...hasn't ever let me see him drink.
"Alright, Kaden, stay in your flat. I'll be over as fast as I can, just try not to throw up on anything and have some water," I instruct him, inserting my key into the ignition.
"Mm-kay. Bye bye, Gale," he reponds before hanging up on me.
I put my phone away and have a silent debate with myself over the value of stopping at a shop or my own house for some supplies or just going straight to his place. I don't want to waste time, and he's probably got some good hangover foods at his flat. I'll just go there first, and if I really need to pick something up, I'll do it when I know he's safe and asleep.
At least I know he's not dying now. Carter pulls in for his shift running the Monday afternoon adoptions, and I wave to him briefly. I allow myself one more sigh of relief that Kaden's alright before heading over to his flat.
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xoxo, Tilly