New neighbors Andi and Hayden don't get off to the best start - and neither do their dogs. When the hostility between their pets, Bart and Rosie, leads to noisy barking, Andi and Hayden must solve their pet's tension or risk eviction from their apar...
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It's been twenty minutes since I told myself to forget Hayden's bottomless eyes, to put some distance between us, and yet, the opposite has proved necessary.
We came up with the perfect way to give Teddy to Bart. As soon as the clownish idea popped into my head, I couldn't talk myself out of it. It makes too much sense, and it might be one of the stupidest things I've ever done, but it might just work.
But it involves contact.
Hayden and I stand outside my door, preparing. I fiddle with the strap of my tote. The bag isn't heavy. Only Rosie's dog treat (that I will, at some point, give to Bart) rests inside, but everything feels heavier through the weight of my nerves. My bag is a boulder, the strap weighing on my shoulder. My clothes squeeze too tight, rubbing against my sweaty skin. The hallway air runs thick, suffocating me.
"Are you backing out?" Hayden holds Teddy and Maple behind his back, examining me.
"No. I was just... I was taking a second, but I'm ready."
I'm not, but if I wait to be ready, we'll be here till morning. With a sharp breath, I mind-over-matter it, jamming my key in the door. It clicks open, casting a bright sliver of light through my dim apartment. Through the soft lamp glows, I spot Bart. He lies on his bed and, at the click of the door, raises his head.
I gulp.
This is it.
Part of me hoped he would still be sleeping. That way, I'd have extra time. But he's not. We're diving right in.
I glance at Hayden, who gives me an assuring nod, and I nod back. Then I walk inside. "Hi, Bart." I move closer, slinking my bag off my shoulder and setting it on the table. "Did you miss me tonight?"
Bart's tail picks up, thumping against his bed. He shoots me a soft smile, his eyes shimmering in a stream of nearby lamplight.
Behind me, Hayden shuts my door, the click echoing off the walls.
It pulls Bart's eyes.
Then, he whimpers.
He whips up, pawing the edge of his bed, but he can't get over the grey, high-rise walls. The blanket traps his legs like he's stuck on a pad of ice, sliding his feet but not going anywhere. The blanket refuses to let go of his tangled limbs, and fear circles Bart's eyes. His whines grow louder, the sharp, anguished cries piercing the quiet air.
My stomach sinks. I rush to him, untangling his legs from his blankets as fast as possible. When free, he hops from the bed, backing further into our living room and putting distance between him and Hayden. No longer in a place of submission, Bart locks a soft, defensive growl onto his lips, planting his paws firm on the carpet.
Dread pools in my chest. "This won't work. He's not going to—" My breathing picks up, but my eyes find Hayden's. His intense stare burns into my soul, sending me a message. Calm down, his eyes say. You've got this.
