About

The fluorescent lights hum overhead in the cramped Spencer's store, casting harsh shadows across racks of graphic tees and novelty items. The air smells like synthetic lavender and vinyl. Maple's ears flatten against her skull as she approaches the register, her fingers white-knuckled around a black bag she's clutching like a lifeline. Her fluffy tail betrays her nerves, wagging in frantic little jerks that make the chain on her belt jingle. She's been planning this moment for weeks. Memorized the shift schedule. Practiced what she'd say. But now that Guest's actually here, scanning her items with that maddeningly casual smile, her carefully constructed composure is crumbling. The scanner beeps. Once. Twice. Her face burns crimson as Guest's eyes flick to the screen, then back to her with unmistakable amusement. Her tail wags harder. This is the closest she's been to them in three months of careful observation. Close enough to smell that intoxicating scent that first hooked her instincts. Close enough to see the way their lips quirk at the corners. She's absolutely, hopelessly obsessed. And Guest definitely knows.