>You usually hate red lights. You tend to like to to get to point B, then to point C, and repeat until it was time to head home.
>Now, you’re grateful for every one that you hit. It’s time to think about your next move, like whether or not you should just pawn off your valuables, stuff your backpack full of clothes, and go on craigslist to see if someone would be willing to trade a decent motorcycle for your beater before sundown.
>A new life as a bike riding vagabond sounds like a safer option that becoming your landlord’s boyfriend. Even if it was only until after that one party, you’re not sure you’ll survive the cumulative trauma up to that point.
>Plus, she said it was fashion to be in a mixed species relationship with a human. How long to fads last? You’re not exactly a good judge on longevity.
>What if she takes a proper liking to you, despite your discomfort? She might find you cute and want to keep you around.
>For a moment you consider having to pick up Ari for a dinner date, the feline dress in some slinky dress sliding into your shitbox of a car. You’re off to some high end restaurant in the shitty suit you got for your aunt’s wedding. All the while an army of her ‘nephews’ see her off with those unimpressed faces of theirs.
>A glimpse into an unending hell of fear, shame, and embarrassment.
---
>The thought distracts you so long you almost miss a green light. Thankfully, the car behind you reminds you by laying on its horn. With that bit of motivation, you focus on the drive.
>Once in the parking lot of the local grocers, you go over your mental shopping list while snatching a stray shopping cart that was lost in the sea of pavement.
>Same as always: rice, cheap ground beef, half a gallon of milk, beans, a new flavor of hot sauce if there is one you haven’t tried. A jug of orange juice to stave off scurvy in the twenty first century. You think your bag of generic o-shaped cereal is running low, so you’ll consider re-upping on that if budget allows. Bread and lunch meat so you don’t starve at work.
>You drift back to the thought of having to take Ari to dinner. Would she be willing to help you out? She knows you’re broke, thus the courtship by threat of eviction.
>Probably not. She only is bothering with you for the sake of appearances. You half expect her to simply drop of a pile of papers with bullet points to remember this evening, and expect you to study it every night until it was time for the party.
>Moseying through the aisles, you give your driving thoughts a bit more depth. Why you? There has to be a couple dozen single, human guys among all of her tenants. You can’t possibly be the only one having trouble with rent.
>Ari mentioned she was specifically looking for someone middle of the road, but she could definitely do better. You’re like a 7.5 at best when really cleaned up. That’s barely a middling grade on your best day.
>While grabbing a handful of instant ramen to refill your stockpile, you think about what else you can do to delay the inevitable return to your apartment.
---
>Perhaps visit the library? The idea strikes you while passing the magazine rack near the check out stands. Your eyes roll over what’s on display. Nothing really is sticking out, since it’s the standard grocery store set up of interest magazines.
>Well, there is the small blue pamphlet tucked almost ashamedly in the corner of the rack. Hardly beefier than a tour guide or road map, really. Out of curiosity, you pluck it off the shelf and look it over.
>’Fur & Skin: Cliffnotes Edition - Fun Quirks of Your New Partner.’ Oh, you’ve heard of this series. The go-to guide for anthro and human relations, or so the commercials go whenever your adblocker misses a pre-roll ad on Youtube.
>You’re about to put it back when you realize that you are, in fact, in that boat now. Might as well skim through the pamphlet real quick, just to see what sticks out.
>Skipping over the things that are irrelevant to you, such as the section on avian and canine anthros, you stop at the human section for a moment to see what ‘fun quirks’ you have that are worth mentioning.
>The first thing that is advertised is an insistence on cuddling, and the values of fur on skin contact. It even has a cute tag line: “The more time that is spent with your arms wrapped around your human, the sooner they start shopping for a thinner blanket.”
>After that is a suggestion to keep the hands of a human lover busy, or deny them completely. The last suggestion could be innocuous but this one is downright lurid. “Human hands need to be either playing with something, or wishing they could. Let them explore your body, and maybe invest in some play hand cuffs, pink fuzz optional.”
>Time stood still for a moment as the mental image of Ari standing over you with a gleaming pair of handcuffs in her hand painted itself in your mind. That one eyed stare and smirk as she leans in closer only makes you shudder and gives you goose bumps out of fear.
---
>Hopefully she wasn’t the kind of person to read these things. The last thing you needed was your terrifying landlord turned girlfriend looking to spice things up in the bedroom.
>You pause for a moment to think about that. Is sex even on the menu in this situation? You’re probably over thinking this; all Ari wants is some mediocre looking arm candy to impress her fellow socialites.
>She didn’t seem hesitant to become intimate though. You unconsciously bring a couple fingers to your lower lip, rubbing on where her teeth were grinding. If only cats weren’t so goddamn difficult to read.
>Well, you’re already here, so you keep flipping through pages to the feline section. The first tip is something you already knew; cats like to be scratched and tended to, but just above the tail will get a real reaction.
>What was next had you making faces at the little blue pamphlet. “Cat spanking?” There is a diagram of a anthro feline, with colored ‘hot spots’ that get the best reaction out of the ridiculous act.
>No. Absolutely not. Never. This is total bullshit, and if it isn’t, Ari would probably have your hands on the chopping block within minutes if you tried. So this is just going to be filed under ‘Completely pointless: not not open.’
>Shaking your head, you put the booklet back onto the magazine rack before pushing your cart towards the checkout lines. It was a nice distraction, but you honestly have nothing else to do today but grocery shopping. Had Ari not sprung her trap on you, all that you planned to do was lounge about, catching up on your shows.
---
>Instead you’re dreading your own apartment. For a moment you mind pauses, expecting something, but it seems you’ve lost the ability to sigh in despair and exhaustion. Some would call this adapting, others would label it as accepting fate.
>As you pay for your groceries, you wonder what will happen. The beep of your phone’s banking app alerts you of your wheezing bank account, but that’s just background noise at this point. A bigger concern is just how far into this ‘pretend boyfriend’ role you’ll have to go.
>It’s just a pendulum swinging over you at this point. The blade swings back and forth, and you know it’s going to reach you eventually. You just wonder if you’ll get a nick across the neck, or will it drop down and lop off your head when the time comes.
>If it’s just a matter of acting, that’s one thing. You can recite memorized facts and try to stay low key during the party, and maybe you’ll get off easy. One awkward party later, and you and Ari will never speak of the matter again.
>On the other hand, what if she wants to try and foster some sort of genuine relationship? The idea is absurd, since you have a hard time believing a relationship that one party was forced into will work out in anyone’s favor.
>Your mind wanders back to how easily she pulled herself onto you. It was as if she had her sights set on you before she even had a reason, but that’s a ridiculous notion. You’ve seen her, from a distance anyways, over the last three years. The woman didn't take suitors, and she definitely didn't do any courting of her own.
---
>That ever present smile might as well be painted onto her face, because it does nothing to tell you what she’s thinking. You’ve seen her evict whole families with that smile on her face. Hell, you even heard a rumor that she was smiling like that at her husband’s funeral
>Which is what makes that moment of intimacy so surreal, and why you keep coming back to it. It was an actual show of emotion and affection, not her near unshakable poker face. That went against everything you knew and thought about her.
>You fight over what all this means and whether or not it warrants worrying about it as you pack your groceries into your car. This is happening one way or another. The only thing you don’t know is how Ari intends to accomplish her goal of turning you into a believable boyfriend in time for the party.
>If the clock of your car radio is correct, you have a couple hours of daylight before the sky turns orange. A couple of hours before you sit at the poker table of fate and see how badly the deck is stacked against you.
>You consider your options as you turn out of the parking lot and into the street. This definitely wasn’t the mood to be enjoying any of your hobbies, and you wouldn’t be able to focus on whatever you decide to watch. You need to calm down, and get out of this flustered state of mind.
>By the time you roll into the apartment parking lot, you’ve decided; it was time to take a nap. Sleep away the stress, and even be a little recharged when Ari came over to let you know the score.
>Shouldering the grocery bags like the man who was raised in a one-trip only family you are, you make your way up the stairs. Fumbling to bring your keys up to the lock, you look back and to the side to see if Ari is sneaking up on you while you’re still in the vicinity of the stairs.
---
>Your head doesn’t even turn all the way before noticing something amiss. Your front window was not open when you left earlier. You distinctly remember this because you’re desperately attempting to keep heat in.
>There is a distinct, almost sweet, earthy smell in the air, but there is a acrid tinge that ends the scent after you inhale. It’s some sort of smoke, alright.
>You pause, loaded down with groceries as you wonder what’s behind door number one. Even if you already have a pretty damn good idea what’s waiting for you, you really wish it wasn’t so. You could have used some time to prepare yourself for this.
>You don’t even unlock the door, and instead just turn the knob. As expected, the knob gives without resistance, unlocked by someone else as you push the door in. Stepping inside your home, there is a golden haired feline waiting for you, good eye watching you lumber into the living room.
>Ari doesn’t say a word, that smirk on her face static as you stare back at her. In her hands is the source of the smell that is filling your apartment; a lit cigar, burning away as she casually kept it pinched between two of her fingers. Thankfully she brought her own ash tray, a bowl made of some wood looking material sitting next to your laptop.
>If this woman was just about anyone else, you would be losing your shit right now. There is so much going on in this moment, like your exhaustion, and you fear for her, that you don’t have the energy to even provide a reaction. You really needed that nap, but it doesn’t look like you’ll be getting it.
---
>Instead, all you do is frown before turning away and walking over to the kitchen to put away your groceries. Ari speaks first from behind you, “I’m impressed, Anon. I don’t think anyone would be able to keep things running in a situation like this, and here you are, just chugging along.”
>There is a beat of silence as you push the orange juice into the back of the fridge. She’s expecting a response, but you don’t have one for her. At best you look back her direction before grabbing the carton of milk and sliding it next to the juice.
>The quiet beat becomes awkward silence as it hangs in the air. You can feel she wants to have a conversation, but she’s also aware that she holds all the cards. You’re just waiting for her to tell you what’s going to happen. Out of the corner of your eye while putting the cereal into a cabinet, you see her lift the cigar to her mouth.
>A restrained ‘ffuuuuuah’ matches the cloud she exhales, and the scent of cigar becomes a touch stronger. You run out of groceries to put away eventually, and you’re left standing in the kitchen, dragging your feet to the inevitable.
>”Anon. Come, sit.” She commands, switching the hand she’s holding the cigar in to pat at the space next to her on the futon. On the side of her good eye, of course. Wordlessly, you flop down onto the seat, and look over at her. Her blue gaze is already looking into yours, and silence settles into the apartment once again.
---
>Ari puffs at her cigar again, surprising you when she turns away to vent the smoke towards the empty air of the room instead of right at your face. “You weren’t this exhausted looking an hour ago. Hell, you look like you’re waiting for the hangman.” You suppose that’s just about how you feel.
>You shrug, “I’m tired, Ari. I was going to take a nap until later.” That was the plan, anyways. Then it was interrupted by her using your apartment as her personal smoke room. It’s not like she’s oblivious though, and for a moment the ends of her feline lips curl downwards before bouncing back to the neutral grin that usual sits on her face.
>She leans over to the coffee table to slip the cigar onto the ash tray, before sighing as she sits back into the futon in a more comfortable position. “I’m sorry, hun. I finished my chores a bit earlier than expected, and decided to smoke for a bit to unwind before heading back to my office. You just happened to catch me before I left.”
>You open your mouth to say something, most likely about her casually entering your home. You’re pretty sure renter’s rights protects you from something like this. Instead, you just close your mouth and sink into the futon.
---
>Ari nods her head to something, closing her eye in thought. She takes a deep breath, and it actually startles you. The feline was the one in control her, so what was she bracing herself for. “Anon…before we talk about the things you’ll have to do for me, I have to know something.”
>You raise an eyebrow, shifting in your seat a couple times before settling again. By that time, you notice she’s waiting for you to speak once more. She hasn’t opened her eye again, still closed tight while she listens for your response. “Fire away, Ari.”
>The moment her name leaves your lips her eyelid jumps open, and her blue eye is cutting through you. She didn’t look at you like this earlier today, nor while you were putting away your groceries.
>”Anon. Do I frighten you?”