Gracie Abrams is eking out a solitary existence, fighting day-in, day-out against the drain of working customer service and nursing two newborn kittens in her off time. Out on her own ever since her sister moved in with her boyfriend, the burden of...
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Morning came with a soft brush along my chin, my nose. Soft, downy fluff, nosing right against my cheek. A slightly-wet mouth, teeth rubbed dry of their moisture.
My eyes opened to stare at the baby blues of Sintar. Her gray body was as dark as the day I brought her home as a putty sausage. Many kittens changed color over time from their birth ones, but it seemed Sintar's breathtaking, mountain lion vibe wouldn't be going anywhere.
Her eyes were still watery, bleary as she regarded the world. Her wrinkled nose told me cries were imminent once she was given more time to wake up.
My head felt fuzzed as I lifted it from my dark green couch. Why was I sleeping in my living room?
"Coffee's on the table," Kakashi said, and I lifted my cotton ball for a head to see the shinobi leaning against the corner before the kitchen, wearing a different hoodie than yesterday. With a start, I realized his spiky head of hair looked somewhat subdued this morning. I tilted my head, trying to glean the spark of differentness emanating from his form, when...
"Ah," I said, creaking around on the couch. As comfortable as couches were, they were not the best to sleep on, simply because of the cramped position and lack of mobility. My shoulders ached, and my legs cracked about a million times as I sat up on the cushions.
He wasn't wearing his headband today. The familiar leaf swirled against metallic plating was nowhere to be seen. He stood, his mask covering his neck, all the way up above his nose, but no headband. Almost...almost like a regular person...If he wasn't ridiculously attractive, even with half his face covered from view.
"You know, I already know what you look like without that on, right?"
Kakashi pushed off the wall, standing tall in my blue apartment. He placed a hand over his sweatshirt-covered chest, blinking. The teasing tone of a sensei dealing with a troublemaker like Naruto came straight from his mouth. "Sneaking on me in the shower, are you, Gracie? Or does your Naruto creator enjoy promoting strip teases to his young audience?"
"Not your sweatshirt," I explained, my cheeks heating. "Your face."
Embarrassment mingling with my cotton head, I was all out of sorts. Giving a quick, awkward laugh, I looked to the side table where my battered box of Kleenex sat next to my charging iPad. Sitting on one of the weaved drink placements, a large mug of coffee creamed into a milky chocolate color sat, faint tendrils of steam rising from the rim. My hands itched to touch its captivating warmth.
"I don't think an animation can compare to the real thing," Kakashi said, sauntering silently across my living room carpet, scooping up the gray bean emitting soft, warning mewls. We were almost out of time before caterwauling cries would start to wake up my neighbors. Slinging the creature against his neck, Sintar clawed weakly up it like a little squirrel scampering up a tree. "What if you pass out once you see the real thing?"
