Page 18 of Sawyer
It was just a casual walk in the park with Benny. But still, I wanted to look good.
Speaking of Benny, I heard an adorable little whine coming from the corner of the room.
"Benny?" I called out, scanning the floor.
The problem with having a small dog like Benny was that he always seemed to find the most unexpected hiding places.
After a minute of searching, I found him under my bed, chewing on one of my room slippers.
“Silly dog,” I muttered, scooping him up and gently prying the soggy slipper from his mouth.
Benny wagged his tail enthusiastically, completely unbothered by the loss of his chew toy.
Still carrying him, I glanced at both of us in the mirror.
“What do you think, bud? Should I change?” I asked him.
Benny just stuck his tongue out and panted, looking as cheerful as ever.
“More hair gel it is,” I said with a chuckle, setting him down on the bed.
Half an hour later, I finally felt satisfied with my reflection.
My hair was perfectly in place, and my shirt, while not brand new, at least didn’t have any wrinkles.
The doorbell rang, and I sighed, turning away from the mirror. I needed to get going anyway if I wanted to make it to the park on time.
Casey and I had planned to meet there, and it was a half-hour drive from my house. I exited my bedroom and heard the doorbell ring again.
“Coming,” I called out.
I stared at the stairs, and then started to head down. Halfway down, my leg stiffened, sending a jolt of discomfort through me.
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to keep going.
By the time I reached the foot of the stairs, I was panting a little, but I pushed the pain to the back of my mind as I opened the door.
Benny circled my legs excitedly, his little tail wagging like crazy. Standing on the porch was Griffin, holding a paper bag.
“Hey,” he greeted with a smile.
“Griff?” I asked, wondering why he was here. Then I remembered. “Oh, right. The old toys Rover outgrew.”
“Yeah,” Griffin said, holding out the bag. “Figured Benny might enjoy them.”
“I’m sure he will,” I said, watching as Benny eyed the bag with interest.
Griffin stooped down to give Benny a pat on the head, and my little dachshund automatically rolled onto his back, paws up, clearly begging for a belly rub.
“Really, Benny?” I asked, amused. “Anyway, I appreciate this, Griff, but I’m running late.”
I took the paper bag from him and set it aside before leading Benny out of the house. But Griffin still hadn’t left.
“Late for what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“For a walk,” I said, though I knew that wasn’t the full truth.
As much as I tried to sound casual, I couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious.