The Rhythm Of Rescue

010 | It's Casey

I burrowed deep into the oversized sweater, the thick knit bunching around my knees. The room had gone from comfortably warm to downright chilly, and with my thermostat kaput, I figured layers were the only answer.

Blinking away sleep, I stretched languidly, the memory of Theodore sparking a flutter in my chest. Padding towards the door, I turned the knob with care, the faint click swallowed by the silence. A sliver of light peeked into the room, revealing Theodore sprawled across my beloved couch. His long frame seemed to dwarf the cozy furniture, one leg dangling precariously off the armrest, his head lolling back on the other side.

Curled up on a fluffy rug beside the couch was Brutus, the soft blanket I'd offered Theodore (and he'd promptly rejected) now draped loosely over the small dog. Shutting the door with the same care, I tiptoed out, wincing as the cold ceramic floor sent a shock through my bare feet.

Curiosity tugged at me as I spotted Theodore's guitar case propped by the couch, where his head rested. Did he play often? I mused, the question laced with a playful jab at his seemingly inflated ego.

Was he as skilled with music as he was with arrogance?

My hand reached out, fingertips brushing the smooth neck of the case. The sudden snap of his eyes open mirrored the frantic somersault my heart executed in my chest. "Jeez!" I exclaimed, clutching my hand to my thumping chest. His gaze darted around the room, a deep frown etching lines on his forehead, before finally settling on me, then the guitar case.

A beat of confused silence hung in the air.

Feigning nonchalance, I retreated to the kitchen, my heart still hammering.

Perching on a stool at the breakfast bar, I couldn't help but steal glances back at Theodore as he sat up, rubbing his sleep-crusted eyes.  Meanwhile, oblivious to the tension, Brutus stirred on the rug. A yawn stretched his tiny pink maw wide, revealing a collection of ridiculously small teeth. With a comical shake, he stretched his short legs, sending shivers down his brindle fur, before letting out a sharp bark, his tail a blur of excited wags.

Theodore rose, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of intimidation. Guys like him – tall and brooding – were uncharted territory in my tiny apartment. Heck, guys in general were uncharted territory.

I watched in silence as he picked up his guitar, shrugged back on his boots, and finally loomed in front of me. Those tired brown eyes were now a deeper, richer shade – a change I secretly liked.  His voice, barely a rasp, rumbled through the room. "Got any food?"

"Good morning to you too," I chirped, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "I'm Casey, by the way." My hand instinctively reached out for a handshake.

He stared down at my outstretched hand, then back at me, a light frown creasing his brow.

"Pancakes are the only breakfast I can manage without setting off the smoke alarm," I offered, "but the bakery around the corner has these amazing muffins. I was just heading there…" My voice trailed off as I saw him move towards the corner, where the coat rack stood. He grabbed his jacket in one swift motion, shrugging it on.

He called out to Brutus. "Come on, buddy, let's go." But instead of bounding after him, Brutus sat back on his haunches, cocking his head to the side and whimpering in protest, his big brown eyes looking up at me like he was seeking my permission to stay.

"Come on, we have a dumpster to return to," Theodore insisted, his voice laced with sarcasm, and I felt a pang of guilt for even suggesting he could crawl back to that dirty old dumpster after enjoying the comforts of my apartment.

I found myself asking, "W-where will you go?"

He shot me a look, his eyes narrowing, “I'm not your concern.” Then he pointed at Brutus, "And you … you better not follow me around again if you're gonna stay here" before slamming the door shut behind him.

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