16 | 𝐸𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑑

"Thank you," I murmured in his direction, but he only kept his eyes focused on the beige siding of the animal shelter. His gunmetal colored jeep remained parked below the gray skies of Wyoming. The cold frigid air howling against the car.

I noticed he was really quiet and decided to say, "don't worry, I'm not actually getting a dog--"

"Hell, you ain't!" he retaliated, gesturing to the cars' interior. "My jeep stays untouched, do you hear me? No paws! No whiskers! No shit," he listed off. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes," I claimed, but I knew it was a lie. I mean, I was listening to him, but was I actually going to listen to him? No.

I had to find a way to sneak a dog into my house for a long enough period of time for Sullivan to think that I had a dog. Then I could say it passed away, when in reality, I just gave it back to the shelter.

They have to have trials for this sort of thing, right?

"What are you even looking for?" he muttered tiredly, his scalp pressed against the back of his seat, eyes glaring sideways.

I shifted uncomfortably under his heated stare, my hands worming in between the comfort of my thighs which my light washed jeans fitted around nicely. "A big golden dog."

"You're awfully specific, we're at the pound not 'Build A Dog,'" he remarked, rolling his eyes and allowing a laugh to tremble up his throat. "Let's get this over with before it starts raining," he grumbled, "last thing we need is the smell of wet dog." He threw open the door and hopped out of the jeep.

I followed after, meeting him around the hood of the car as we started for the glass doors. He pushed one open, holding it out for me.

When we entered the main lobby, I was surprised by how much repressed sadness was in the place. The walls were dirty, the floor littered with hair and scratches along the tiles. The main lady at the desk was dressed in blue and she had a friendly face. Among the music, the distant barks and howls were heard down the hallways on either side of the main desk.

"Hey, how can I help you two today?" she asked sweetly, glancing at both Victor and I.

I turned to Victor expectantly because I had not one clue. Though he looked bored, two fingers hooking the leather jacket over his shoulder. I stared at his black t-shirt, and what was supposedly underneath, for a second, turning to the lady wordlessly. "We--uh--"

She exclaimed excitedly, "wanting to be fur parents!" She squirmed quickly through the half swinging door, hands clasped together. "You guys make such a cute couple and will be perfect for a new fur baby--"

"Oh, we're not--" I defended, but he slung his arm over my shoulders, his leather jacket draping against my forearm. It's texture tickled. I tilted my chin to look up at him and he gave a cocky smile.

"Thank you, isn't she pretty?" he boasted, but I only glared at him. He winked playfully, having too much fun with this as he turned towards the blonde haired woman. "We're preferably looking for a golden dog."

"A golden dog?" she echoed, furrowing her brows. "I'm sure we have a few. Any specific size--"

"Big," I interrupted hastily.

He gave me a look that made me instantly know what sexual joke formulated in his mind. I ignored it as a man came filing through one of the open thresholds leading to a hallway. He was carrying a clipboard, turning towards the door to his right when the woman called him.

"Keith, do we have any golden dogs?"

"I believe the retriever just got adopted," he explained, turning his attention to Victor and I. Doubts filled my stomach in the form of churning nausea. "You guys looking for a golden one, huh?"

"Yeah," I answered, leaning forward unintentionally. I needed this to work otherwise Sullivan would most definitely know I'm lying. "Let's just say... if something doesn't work, like if we don't connect with the dog like we thought, can we return it?"

The woman's breath hitched and even the guy's eyes enlarged behind his thick rimmed glasses. "This isn't the dress mart down the block," he laughed, "but yes, if that is the case, the dog's always welcome back to the shelter."

I nodded, glancing up at Victor swiftly who was preoccupied looking at me. He seemed slightly interested in what I was doing. "We'll take a look, definitely," he beamed.

"That's excellent! Emily, do you mind showing them... the golden ones?" he questioned, waiving his clipboard, confused at what he was saying.

"Absolutely." She grinned, throwing a hand up and starting to walk closer to the chorus of dogs. Their nails thrummed against the tiles in different patterns, their throaty barks executing between the silver bars containing them in minuscule cubes where a bed and one toy was set, along with two dishes.

"We do have one that is all golden, but Banjo is special," she explained.

I noticed I was still tucked beneath Victor's arm, but I didn't mind.

It was only for show.

I exchanged a nervous look with Vicky as we parked outside of a cubicle. She pivoted around, gesturing to one of the jail cells. My eyes were raised about three feet too high. The mantra of dogs lessoned as we descended our attention to a two fanged golden chihuahua.

His hair was thin, paws very skinny, and two teeth in front of his top lip. His beady eyes stared at us dumbly, but were looking at two, completely opposite directions of the room.

"What do you think?" Emily excitedly asked. Her eyes flashing from the eight pound dog to us.

Victor was choking back his laughter with stiff head nods. "Oh, perfect. Mind, giving us some time with uhh... Bongo?"

"Banjo," she corrected.

I nodded, slowly murmuring, "right..." I overemphasized. She slipped out a keychain from the front pocket of her scrubs, wiggling it in the keyhole and walking in, holding her foot out in front of Banjo, causing him to scurry backwards a little.

She sealed the gate closed once Victor and I were both in, but didn't lock it. "Lemme know when you're ready," she added, beginning to trek away.

My eyes followed. "Did you seriously not see any other golden dogs? How is that possible?" I rambled.

"He's..." Victor cocked his head as the dog looked stupidly up at Victor, his two teeth stuck out of his mouth pointedly. "Kinda cute."

"Kinda cute?" I rebuked then lowered my tone as the dogs became background noise. "I need a dog to fit the name 'Moose.'"

"He can fit the name Moose?" he suggested optimistically. "Also, thought you said you weren't getting a dog," he reminded, quirking a brow and resting his arm aside.

Victor and I separated, enabling us to look at Moose from all angles. I stared at the chihuahua who then stared at me with one eye.

"Is he alive?" I questioned.

"Yeah?" He sounded to be questioning it himself. The chihuahua we looked down on continued to stare at us, I swear that both of his eyes were pointing two different directions. One eye on me, one eye on Victor.

"I should call my mom, I just need to borrow the thing, then I return him, right?" I questioned for validation.

"Wait," he abruptly cut off, throwing his leather jacket on his forearm. "Do you realize that you are actually thinking about bringing a dog home for Friday? That's tomorrow. Can't you just admit you're lying to him rather than confusing the poor thing."

He beckoned a hand to the dog with the googly-eyes and the two fangs sticking out. His golden hair was tainted with gray strays that stuck up behind his ears.

"His personality trait is confused, he didn't need me for that!" I rebuked softly, looking down at the little rat and back up to Victor. "I need this, just for a day! Vicky, please. Please-please-please--"

My heart swelled. He let me call him Vicky. Well, let is a strong word.

"What's your mom even gonna say?" he deadpanned, clearly distressed.

I shrugged, raising my phone to eye level and dialing the number. "Let's hope all good things. I can just say that I'm babysitting your dog--"

"I don't have a dog," he retorted. "You are not lying! I'm not involved in that," he confirmed.

I narrowed my eyes on him, the dialed number held in my hands as the dog stood between us like a game of 'Monkey in the Middle.'

"You're the bad boy for Christ sakes!" I exclaimed. I ignored his arched brow of perplexmxent and said, "you rebel, that's your thing, but you won't lie for me?" I refuted.

"I met your mom briefly during Thanksgiving," he reminded, "I am not having her hate me. Though I do dislike her because she is a lawyer, and lawyers are pieces of shit--"

"That is not true," I retorted.

He nodded, avoiding eye contact. "They're spiteful, evil, and horrible people--"

"Bad experience, huh?" I wondered softly, my eyes burning into his gray irises.

He stifled a laugh, repeating through the chortle, "bad experience."

I turned to my phone, glancing back at the dog. "I can't tell Sullivan I was lying, Vicky. This means a lot to me and I can't mess it up by something as stupid like this," I explained, but my heart seemed to go quicker, my mind spiraling into a hazy, more lightheaded, sensation.

He let me call him Vicky, again. This was a test... how many times could I call him Vicky until he gets mad?

I shook my head.

I can't wait until Sullivan loves that I call him Liv and not Sully.

He ignored my nickname, glaring at the chihuahua. "I am not getting blamed for this--"

"And you won't! I'll only keep him for at tops, four days."

I stared at the chihuahua who started to move on its own. He waddled, walking unevenly on both sets of legs, went to the pee-wee pad in the corner, and picked up his leg. The second that he started to pee, he unsteadily placed his paw back down, stumbling, but raised it back up again. His two fanged teeth sticking up with his tongue that started to poke out.

"You sure you don't want to look around some more?" he remarked, chuckling awkwardly to himself.

I narrowed my eyes on the dog, muttering to him, "Stay here--"

I started to swing open the gate, entering the orchestrated howls and barks. Victor protested, "You are not keeping me in a dog cage! I swear to God--Rhy! Rhy, get back here!"

I sauntered down the aisle between dog cages. My head flicking from one side to the other. There were black dogs, white dogs, brown and black, hairless, gray, but no gold or orange.

This was preposterous.

"Hey!" I called, meeting back up with Emily at the main desk. She smiled at me, leaning forward. "Are you sure you have no other golden dogs?" I pressed.

She pursed her lips, contemplating for a moment. "Let's go check, you can come with me. What's your boyfriend think of the dog?"

"Not boyfriend," I corrected mindlessly.

"Oh, are you guys married? You guys look so young!" she complimented, spinning around towards me. Her big green eyes were looking at me expectantly.

Fuck, why does Victor have to make things difficult? I forgot he mentioned we were together.

I lied with a cheeky grin, "engaged!" I paused at her smile. "Yeah, I uh--" I glanced down to the ring I bought from the firework fundraiser. I switched it over nonchalantly. "I have to get used to it on my left! Just recently too."

"Aw, that's adorable and you guys are getting a dog, that's so sweet," she murmured, beginning to walk down the next aisle of quieter dogs. There were only five dogs sporadically down the aisle.

"Yeah," I chuckled to her previous comment. My eyes were glancing at the animals that seemed sicker, verge of death with big puppy dog eyes. My heart broke at the sight, but we saw a series of black dogs, grays, and then finally, one brown and white dog. Wasn't golden, but a rusty brown.

I watched as the dog growled lowly at the sight of Emily and I. "This is Cutie-Pie." She introduced the dog with eyes penetrating attack mode. It pounced at the gate, startling Emily and I as we backed away. It's snout drove into the gaps, his snarling teeth revealed furiously.

"We'll take Bongo," I muttered.

"Banjo it is!" she beamed.

When she walked back to the desk, I ran straight to Victor who I found criss cross on the floor, his leather jacket behind him. He scratched the dog's head.

I sang innocently, "Vicky!"

"What did you do?" He was half-interested, more-so into scratching the chihuahua's head.

"I got the dog--"

"You what?"

"She also thinks we're engaged and this is our pre-wedding present that we're giving ourselves!" I rambled, trying to brush off the fact that I bought a dog without my mothers' permission. He stared at me with the beady eyed dog.

"Are you crazy?" he retorted, throwing himself up off the floor. Several metal bars between us as we communicate. "You just bought a living and breathing animal to impress your crush? Where in my lessons did I teach you this?"

"I don't know--"

"Nowhere!" he sharply whispered, "nowhere in there did I say this." He shook his head timidly, his eyes falling to my ring finger on my left hand. "You got to be kidding me."

Emily appeared behind me with a piece of paper shown to us. A certificate of authentication. "Would you like to put your maiden name or your soon-to-be name?"

"Just put Vislocky," I uttered, turning to his clenched jaw. "Less evidence on me," I said once she scurried away.

"You do realize," he started warningly. "We got married at an animal shelter and adopted a 'fur baby?'" he mocked, his eyes enlarging.

I commented happily, "You make a really nice husband."

♡♡♡

"What am I looking at?" she yelled, her voice vibrating through the house.

"You might wanna be quiet, Mrs. Kellman," Victor remarked from his position against the living room wall. "The workers there say that Bango is sensitive to loud noise." He whispered, cupping his hand around his mouth to face away from the chihuahua, "trauma from his childhood." He turned to the chihuahua. "Me too, Buddy."

"I can't--" she snapped, shaking her head and cupping her forehead. "What the hell were you thinking, Azariah?"

"We're only keeping him for a few days!" I protested.

"That animal shelter will hate us!" my mom argued. Her nostrils flaring and her fists curling tightly by her side. "I told you no dog!"

"And there won't be, consider this a free trial! We got the food and everything!" I exclaimed, trying to hype her up. My voice downcast quickly as I mentioned, "He does have really bad sinuses and needs medicine every night."

As if on cue, Banjo sniffed, creating a snorting sound to resound through the house.

Her voice lowered, eyes staggering along the creature. "I thought you said a big dog?"

"It was the connection," I admitted, holding my hand to my heart, but I sounded sarcastic and could feel Vicky's stare on me.

"Well," he announced, interrupting the quietude. "Looks like I'm not needed anymore--"

My mom approached him with crooked eyebrows. "You ain't going anywhere, Mister!" she called, causing him to stop dead in his tracks with his back towards us. Inches away from the door. "How about you stay for dinner and we can discuss this arrangement. Why the hell did you allow and assist my daughter getting a dog?" she said creepily fake and high pitched, her hands clasped together at her waistline.

He slowly pivoted around and defended, "I actually have to get back to my dad--"

"We're having enchiladas!" she sang creepily high.

Behind my mother's back I waved my hand strikingly towards the kitchen. Victor never really spoke to my mom straight-frowardly, even at Thanksgiving it was a quick hello. We mainly talked to my uncle, grandparents, and cousins. I mouthed to him through quiet hisses.

He faced my moms' fake, plastic smile with his own mirrored. "Can't turn down food."

"I'm glad you say that," she started, strutting to the kitchen, stopping at the center of the room to stare at the chihuahua. "Is he alive?" she questioned, looking at the animal with his eyes facing two different sides of the living room, his tongue poked out between his fangs.

"Yeah," I breathed out, pursing my lips in contemplation. "He also has arthritis so stairs don't really work for him--"

"Just, deal with... what's his name?" she tiredly inquired.

"Moose," Victor answered. "His birth name is Bongo--"

"Banjo," I corrected, "but he doesn't answer to anything."

"Noted." She sauntered into the kitchen with one final dinner call. I picked the dog up who was frozen in his stance.

"I think your mom loves being the grandma to our child," he said into my ear playfully. The heat from his exhale caused me to shiver, but a chuckle shot through me. I plopped Moose onto the kitchen floor which had two steps up from the living room.

Victor followed me. He discarded his leather jacket and sprawled it on the couch's arm. This left him wearing nothing but ripped black jeans and a black fitted t-shirt. A silver chain looped around his neck.

Fuck, he's hot.

"Smells great," he commented, seating himself on the bar stool at the kitchen island. She rolled her eyes, chuckling softly.

"You sound just like Kayla," she muttered, shooting a warning look over my shoulder which I avoided subtly. I didn't want to hear her thoughts, which I knew were going to be about how Kayla's crush was sitting in our kitchen about to eat enchiladas.

"That's your friend, right?" he asked, quirking a brow in my direction.

I nodded slowly as my mom pushed two plates in front of us. As Vicky was about to say something, his phone started buzzing and caused him to tense. He slipped the device out of his jean pocket. "Sorry, lemme just--" He raised the phone to his ear with confusion then stifled a laugh after hearing the voice. "Are you serious?" He chuckled.

My mom looked up through her lashes, fork in her mouth.

He turned to me, pulling the phone away from his lips. "Can you just say hi to Bria? She called from the house phone to talk to you."

My smile instinctually lifted and I nodded with haste. He mumbled something into the phone about being on speaker then held the phone out between us.

"Hi, Reeya!" she exclaimed into the phone happily.

"Hi!" I replied, leaning into Victor's hand.

He mouthed to my mom, "my sister." He glanced back at me in a weary but playful manner.

The little girls' voice erupted through the phone once more. "Will I see you again soon?"

"Of course! You know, the next time you have a tea party with Vicky, you should invite me," I hinted, smiling brightly to Victor who rolled his eyes, hiding his face from my mom who found the whole situation adorable.

After a few last exchanges, he hung up, slipping the device in his pocket. My mom shook her head. "How old is she?"

"Just turned seven," he replied, swallowing his mouthful. "She's a little devil, if you ask me."

"Hey, that's what I said about my sisters," my mom joked, sipping her wine. "Everybody thought Genevieve was such a sweet girl. Absolutely rebellious." She laughed into the wine glass.

Victor cocked his head, using the ends of his fork to point towards my mom as he recalled, "Now, when I met Genevieve at Thanksgiving, she strikes me as the rebellious one. Octavia, couldn't do a bad thing in her life. Nerdy type. You on the other hand, devil, no doubt."

Did he just call my mom the devil? Oh, shit.

My mom started laughing as he pressed, "am I wrong though?" He was chuckling to himself, impatiently waiting for my mom to reply. "You definitely seem like you have some stories hiding up your sleeves."

She finally composed her laughter and responded, "not entirely wrong."

"You have to share one day," he says, thoroughly impressed with himself. "Now, be honest. This one." He beckoned his head to me as I ate my salad. "Trouble?"

"Well," my mom sarcastically began, "she did bring a stray rat home with the help of this guy--"

"Oh, that's... troubled. I um--" He gestured to his food and mumbled, "I'm just gonna... y'know? Get back to this," he teased, stuffing a mouthful and then throwing up a thumbs up. An adorable closed-lipped smile revealed on his lips as my mom shared a laugh.

Well, that was unexpected.

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