Nothing But Wild (Malibu University 2)

Yes.

“No,” I tell her while Dallas watches me closely. Vi doesn’t know about our sordid history, and I don’t want to look petty and immature. She doesn’t need me to spell it out; she can see that I’m less than thrilled. Helping him with his notes in class was one thing, having to endure him here, in my safe space, is altogether too much.

“Since he can’t do too much with his shoulder still healing, I’m going to buddy him up with you––”

I barely manage to restrain a groan. Being in constant proximity to him is torture. A wild Dallas can charm the pants off anyone. A remorseful, humbled Dallas, I’ve come to learn, is even more dangerous. This is really not fair. Like seriously, I try to be a good person. What have I done to deserve this?

“You can show him how we do things around here so when his shoulder is better he can hit the ground running at the Abbot Kinney location.”

“Abbot Kinney?” Dallas asks, looking genuinely interested.

“The new shelter we’re building,” Vi explains. “It’s a larger prop with grass. You know, room for the dogs to play.” Vi has a habit of shortening words for no good reason.

Posey, Vi’s Beagle, sidles up to Dallas, her tail whipping back and forth against his leg. Lowering himself on his haunches, he pets the old girl with the missing eye.

“Who are you?” he asks her.

“That’s Posey. My dog. We rescued her from a lab that was testing cosmetics on animals. That’s why she’s blind…Pose say hello.”

On cue, Posey dutifully gives a Beagle howl and Dallas grins. “She was in a tiny cage for the first seven year of her life. She had no idea what grass was. Didn’t even know how to drink out of a bowl. Don’t buy products that test on animals, dude.”

“I don’t,” he answers back.

“Let’s start with the c-cages,” I tell him and walk away, heading to the cat section. There are about twenty litter boxes that need to be cleaned twice a day. Vi and Mika keep the place spotless. Without a word, Dallas follows.

“You don’t want me here?” he murmurs as I open the closet to retrieve the cleaning supplies.

“I r-really don’t c-care either way.”

I grab the gallon of natural cleaner off the shelf and he takes it from me. He attempts to that is, because I don’t let go. I tug. He tugs. We both tug. He’s much stronger so he wins.

I glance up into his carefully neutral expression. But something––a flicker of regret perhaps, crosses his face. He’s a beautiful, screwed-up boy I remind myself. The regret is a passing sentiment.

“You can tell me if you don’t want me.”

Talk about a loaded sentence. For a moment, I’m tempted to scream at him for embarrassing me. For invading my privacy. For being mean. And then the flame of anger burns out and I’m left cold. No matter what he says, how momentarily remorseful he looks, he doesn’t care about anything other than the next thrill, the next challenge. That’s all this is for him. Entertainment. A distraction from his rich boy “ennui.” That’s all I am to him.

“I don’t care w-what you do, Dallas. Just…stay out of my way.”

For the next two hour, I show him my routine, and he intermittently asks questions. Other than that, I don’t look at him and he doesn’t force a conversation.

“Can you do me a favor?” Vi whispers as I retrieve my backpack from her office, ready to leave for the day.

The most lethal question in the English language if you ask me. By themselves, the words are totally benign, but string them together and they have the power to take down pretty much anyone. And at this very moment, it looks like I’m it. Mind you, she’s seated at her desk, cleaning her gun.

Vi’s round, almost-purple eyes are unblinking and glued on me. Not a good sign. Meanwhile, I stare back like her face is ready to detonate all over me. “Umm…”

“Nothing big,” she continues in a volume of voice that can only be described as alarmingly conspiratorial. “Just a small one.” She plays with the piercing in her lip. It’s her tell. The one she doesn’t know she has. And it means she’s up to no good, concocting a scheme.

“Umm…”

“You’d really be helping me out.” She gives me a pointed stare before throwing a sneaky glance out the open door to examine Dallas who’s too busy playing with a fat black and white cat named Monster to pay us any mind.

“He needs a ride back to campus––you know, suspended license and all that. Anyfuckingway, two birds one stone.” She pastes on a toothy grin, which only manages to make her look like a serial killer. Vi is not the smiley type. “I figured you guys both go to the Bu, you must live near each other.”