Page 3 of Mark

The second incident happened when we found a wardrobe on Market Place. Whilst we were trying to get it into the flat, I needed to get a better grip, so I leaned against his door to adjust my position. He just happened to open the door during that time. I fell at his feet, and he accused me of trying to break in.

If it wasn’t for Summer, the last incident wouldn’t have happened. She manipulated me into going with her to take his post to him after it got mixed in with ours. A second before his door opened, she bolted, leaving me holding the post. The jerk accused me of stealing his letters as an excuse to see him.

I don’t even want to get started on the fact he keeps stealing our takeaways. I know it’s him. The delivery driver confirmed it. Not that I needed him to; I could smell the food coming from his flat.

The few times we’ve seen him with friends or family, they’ve looked at me like I’m some crazed fan who can’t get enough. And the most annoying thing about it all is the fact that every time I see him, I want to throttle him.

“Why do you think he would take Mellow? He didn’t seem to like cats.”

I throw my hand out. “Because he was outside this morning. I knew he flung that food at me on purpose. I fucking knew it. He used it as a distraction to get Mellow. I had to come back in to change.”

Her eyes crinkle with amusement as she presses her lips together for a moment. “He flung food at you?”

I begin to pace the floor. “Yes. He kept swearing it was an accident but I know it wasn’t. I know it wasn’t.”

I know what I need to do.

“Where are you going?” she calls out when I turn to leave.

“I’m going to get my cat back.”

“Stop! Mellow is probably hiding somewhere. You’re just going to embarrass yourself.Again.”

“I don’t embarrass myself,” I argue, my hand on the front door handle.

“The last time you confronted him, he threatened to call the police on you.”

“He stole my food,” I snap.

“You fell asleep and it was dropped off at the door. Technically, it was in no-man’s-land.”

“Whose side are you on?”

Her lips twitch. “Yours. Always yours.”

“He has it in for me and my cat,” I tell her, swinging the door open. “So I’m going to do something about it.”

I startle at the sight of him in the corridor. He has his work gear on, and his face and hands are covered in soot, or perhaps dirt. Which I have to admit is kind of hot. It’s just a shame he hasto open his mouth. I glance away from the sweat trickling down his neck and under his T-shirt, and pull myself together.

“You!” I accuse.

He drops his tool bag, his eyebrows pinching together when he spots me. “If this is about this morning, I said I was sorry. I thought I felt a spider on me and I jumped.”

“I want my cat back,” I snap.

His hazel eyes narrow on me. “Your cat?”

“I know you took him. You’ve been wanting to get rid of him since we moved in.”

“I haven’t touched your cat,” he snaps, and puts his key into the lock. “You are crazy. Do I need to get a restraining order? Because I will. I’m sick of all these excuses to try and see me.”

“I’mcrazy?” I screech. “You’re the one who keeps stealing our food, and I’m pretty sure you stole our doormat too. No one else has a reason to come to this floor. And now, you’ve taken my cat.”

“I haven’t taken your cat,” he barks as he pushes his door open.

My gaze zeroes in on his sofa. OnMellowsitting on his sofa. He has one leg cocked up, and he’s staring right at us. No doubt before we interrupted him, he was licking his balls clean.

I push past the bane of my existence. “You didn’t steal him, huh?”