NIKKI & JOE, CASUALLY |

02: orchid

            The first thing to greet me is Cece's Vans, strategically kicked off right in front of the door for maximum risk of tripping someone. I smile as I align them by the wall. For two months after they moved in with me, Cece slept with their trainers on, his JanSport always packed with the essentials and never more than mere yards away.

When the kitchen proves untouched, I move past the stairs to peer into the living room. Orchids bloom in my chest at the sight of them. It's only been a month since they were in Manchester last but excitement tickles my blood. I take a few seconds to stomp down the longing to hug him and shower him in kisses in case they're not in a physical touch mood before I continue down the corridor.

Then I no longer struggle to get my smile under control.

Cece's not alone on the sofa. Esther, the dobermann they've had responsibility for rehabilitating as a part of their own rehabilitation, is curled up next to him. That's not the issue though. The issue is the cast on his right wrist.

'The fuck happened?'

'The fuck happened to "hiya, how's it going"?' His eyes snap from the telly, black irises glinting with the flashing colours of Deadly Class, along with all his piercings. He lifts his un-cast hand. 'I didn't get in a fight. You don't immediately gotta jump to conclusions.'

'I weren't jumping.'

Cece quirks a pierced eyebrow.

'I were confidently striding.' I nod at the cast. They've camouflaged it in a disturbingly realistic drawing of the bones in their wrist so it's disguised as an intentional accessory to his all-black outfit. 'What happened then?'

'Sometimes I let Esther pull me on my skateboard and sometimes she runs too fast.'

Well, that's a champion idea, innit.

I step toward the sofa. 'Where am I supposed to sit?'

They shrug, scratching Esther's neck. Their attention has returned to the telly. 'You can sit on the floor.'

'This is my house. And my sofa.'

'And your floor,' he says, mocking my indignant tone. 'Your rug.'

I shove Cece off the sofa to take his place. Esther barks once, her black eyes bulleting to me, but she don't get up until Cece commands her to. He sits on the other side of the sofa and Esther relaxes on his lap though her head falls on my leg. I stare at it, her body heat suffusing into my thigh in parallel with the one spreading through my chest: I've been chosen!

'She won't bite,' Cece says with a glance at my rigid figure, hands awkwardly bent so as not to touch her. A laugh rolls from his teeth. 'Actually, can't guarantee that. She's still a work in progress.'

Cece's current foster home doubles as a training centre for aggressive canines. Oak Shaw's mission is to rehabilitate teenagers and dogs by allowing them to work together, to motivate each other to do better. Bobbi says it can be easier to connect with animals than other people, especially when people have broken your trust over and over. Though Cece liberally slagged off the concept from the moment their social worker suggested it two years ago, they sent me the first picture of Esther within half an hour of their arrival and by the end of the first week, they'd sent me a thorough profile for every animal on the land, including Bobbi's two back garden chickens and cat.

Cece takes my hand and places it on her head. Esther surveils me but don't retreat from my touch. 'She likes it when you massage between her eyes.' I do as told while Cece pets her side to keep her calm.