Page 13 of The No Repeat Policy

The room erupts in barks, ruffs, and whines the moment I step through the door. Immediately my nose is assaulted by the sterile scent of cleaning supplies mixed with a hint of piss. For a moment it makes me consider turning around, but I don’t.

The woman from the front desk, I think she called herself Mandy, leads me down a short hall and into a larger open room.

Along the right, the walls are divided into small four- or five-foot-wide kennels.

Paws and wet muzzles poke through the metal caging, begging for attention.

They’re all sorts of cute and cuddly, and damn, there are so many.

Sort of sad that they’re stuck here.

Little full-grown chihuahuas in separate cages that look massive compared to their size, with their tiny barks almost rivaling the boom of the bigger dogs next to them.

I don’t know most breeds, and most of these are mixed, but I think that one is a terrier something, and the one next to it, even though it’s bigger than the chihuahuas, is a Labrador puppy…I think.

“This is our current selection. Each has already been spayed or neutered if they’re old enough and is up to date on all their shots,”

Mandy says, turning to face me in front of another Labrador type, I think. “Was there any specific size dog you were looking for? Is it for a house or an apartment? Or are you looking for an outside dog?”

“Uh…”

I forget how to answer. I wasn’t planning on getting a dog, or any animal for that matter, until last night. It was one of those random thoughts that grips me in the late hours, when my brain can’t stop processing and reprocessing all the shit that’s going on, mainly guy shit. “Inside. It’s an apartment. Is that okay?”

“It depends on the apartment,”

she answers, tilting on her feet a bit. “Do they allow pets? They might charge extra on the rent if you have a pet too.”

“Yeah.”

I nod as if I have a clue. Surely they allow pets. I keep thinking I saw a cat in one of the upstairs windows last week. Now if they charge more for them, I don’t know. I didn’t ask about pets when I signed the lease. Didn’t really think it was going to be a thing. “And maybe average size?”

I probably sound stupid. I seriously only know I want a dog. That’s it. Well, not a little happy one, but otherwise I haven’t a clue. The whole single thing sucks, but the whole hookup thing is getting old. Sure, who doesn’t love a total whore when you’re horny as fuck, but I also sort of want one that only wants to be a whore for me. That’s against my rule though. It’s a bad idea. I don’t need the worry, that constant fear they’re fucking someone else. But I do. It doesn’t make any sense, but somehow that ended up in me deciding I’d come to the Humane Society and go home with a dog to keep me company.

So, here I am.

Mandy considers it for a moment before twisting and walking around the corner. “We’ve a few like that. A few more Lab mixes, a sweet-hearted little German Shepard we call Sadie. She’s so loving, see?”

She points at an adorable pup with a gray snout who’s prancing around her tiny enclosure, and then moves on. “And Sasha here. She’s a Husky-German Shepard mix. She’s real expressive.”

“Oh,”

I say when Sasha jumps against the cage and whines through the grates. She even tilts her head at me like a human. “She’s adorable.”

“She’ll wrap you around her paw in no time if you stand there too long,”

Mandy tells me.

“Maybe she has already.”

I lean in and touch her little paw, then give it a few pets. “Aren’t you a good girl?”

Sasha barks and then whines again. She’s so fucking cute! I can see it now. Cuddling on the couch with this white-gray floofball. She looks so warm. Playing catch in the nearby park.

“Her eyes?”

I ask. They’re different colors. The left is a deep blue while the right is a bright brown. The contrast is crazy.

“It’s common in Huskies. Of course, she’s not pure bred, but still,”

she reminds me. “Want me to let her out?”

“Yeah,”

I say, and the latch comes undone. Sasha bounds out of the cage, but she doesn’t jump on me. No, she jumps at my feet and looks up at me expectantly. Wow. Already well behaved. I squat and pat her head and smooth out the fur on her back. Yep. Soft as fuck. “Hey there, baby girl. You want to come home with me?”

She swishes around my hand and I let my fingers comb through her fur. Sasha nuzzles me. Her nose is wet and cold, but I don’t pull away. I’m going to make her comfortable from the very beginning.

“How long has she been here?” I ask.

“They were brought in earlier this week,”

Mandy tells me.

“I think it’s time she leaves,”

I tell her and ruffle up the hair on Sasha’s head. “I want her. Sasha, you want to come home with me?”

I get a bark in return and a flurry of licks on my hand. Seems like a yes to me.

“Let’s get the paperwork then. She’s already—”

and I tune out the rest while I hug Sasha. We’re going to get along great, little girl. Just you and me against it all.

Some thirty minutes later, lots of signatures, and a hundred dollars poorer, I’m walking out the door of the shelter with Sasha on a leash. As soon as the door opens, she sprints and about takes me off my feet.

“Woah, girl,”

I call out and tighten my grip on the pale green leash Mandy so kindly threw in for free. She stops and comes running back at me. This time, though, she pops up and plops her paws on my stomach. I’m not expecting it and it pushes the air out of my lungs. “You excited? You happy to be out of jail?”

She’s panting, and her tail’s wagging like crazy. I’ll take that as a yes.

“Come on, Sasha,”

I say, and start toward my car on the next side street. It’s cold. Probably no higher than the low forties today. I pull my thick jacket tighter around my chest, but the air still bites. I pass an older man and have to keep Sasha from running up to him. Looks like she’s going to be the never-met-a-stranger type, but then again, isn’t that all dogs?

A familiar voice graces my ears, and flashes of those icy blue eyes pop in my head. Xander. Is he here? Or am I just imagining it?

I stop and sling my eyes across the street. Shit. It’s not just in my head this time. He’s here. Standing across the street, just as gorgeous now in skinny jeans and a thick gray sweater as he was in little to nothing at the club. He’s coming out of a restaurant, slinging a much-too-thin-looking jacket over his shoulders. I want to talk to him. I need to.

I start to step onto the road to cross over, but a girl walks out behind him and they start talking. I’m frozen. I want to talk to him. I want to find out more about him. I want to know more about the problems he almost talked about.

I can’t though. I’d look like a crazy person walking up like this. It’s like an unwritten rule of a hookup. You don’t acknowledge each other in public. It’s bad luck or something, I think. Right now it seems like a way to keep me single as fuck.

“No, just go,”

I say, and look down at Sasha, who’s looking up at me with this way too curious expression. “What? We’ll talk about it later. Let’s go.”

Sasha grumbles and follows once I take off. It seems we’re getting off to a good start. Already been judged by my dog. I’m almost to my car, but I want to turn back around and say something. I slow but refuse to stop. It’s too late for that, and it’s a bad idea. Right? Hell, I’ll just text him. At the curb I stop and take out my phone.

“Hold up just a moment, Sasha,”

I say, and stare at the last message.

Kolton: How was your weekend?

Yeah, it’s the last of my triple texting the day after our hookup. Now I think texting him will mean anything? I must be insane. I drop my phone to my side and huff. Sasha huffs too, which makes me laugh.

“You copying me?”

I ask. You know what though? Fuck my no-repeat policy. “Should we go back and say hey?”

I don’t know if she understands—they do say Huskies are smart—but she starts to prance on her feet like a Tennessee Walking Horse and barks. It could mean let’s go home so I can eat, but I take it as a yes.

“Let’s go,”

I say, and turn around. Sasha takes up a trot and leads the way back. What am I going to say though?

Hey, remember me? The guy who fucked you on Halloween. Hell no. Hey, remember me? The Spartan. Nope. That’s lame. Maybe, Hey, wanna come back to my place? No! Shit, I should just ask him on a date.

Just say hey, and something not stupid after that. Like Could I take you for a drink this week?

The restaurant comes back into view, but there’s no Xander, or the girl that was with him. I survey the street on both sides and there’s no sign of them

I huff. Of course.