Ten Things My Cat Hates About You

by Lottie Lucas

  I should have known this was coming. It was always going to be a risk, bringing Josh to the museum. But I figured it had to happen at some point; why not today?

  “We’re looking at paintings,” I say primly, attempting to tug my arm away, but she clings on. “That is the accepted activity in a museum, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t try and be cute,” she snaps. “You know what I mean. What are you doing with him?”

  “We’re just having a nice time together, that’s all. It’s nothing serious.”

  “Nothing serious?” Her lipsticked mouth drops open. “Are you insane? It shouldn’t be anything at all. Have you forgotten …?”

  “No, I haven’t. And neither has he. But we’ve decided to put it behind us.” I sigh, my annoyance abating at the worry in her face. She’s only trying to protect me, even if she does have a slightly abrasive way of going about it. “Look, I get that you don’t approve. But I know what I’m doing, believe me. This time, it’s different. I’m the one in control.”

  I can’t fault Josh; he’s been as good as his word. I’ve never known a man try so hard to impress me. He calls when he says he will. He’s taken me out to dinner. We’ve been for walks in the park. We’ve been for coffee. We’ve even been ice-skating. There’s something gloriously whimsical about it all; it’s like old-fashioned dating.

  The kind of dating which everyone told me didn’t exist any more. I can’t say that I don’t feel a little smug to have proven them wrong.

  And in case you’re wondering, yes, we have kissed a couple of times. But no, there hasn’t been anything more. There’s something nice about taking it slow. It really is like we’ve started all over again, and this time I’m determined to keep it in perspective. This time it’s on my terms.

  Once, I wouldn’t have been able to do that. I couldn’t forgive and forget, give someone the benefit of the doubt. Once a relationship was over, that was it. If they didn’t live up to my high standards, then obviously they weren’t the one. I moved on. But Freddie telling me that Mum and Dad had split up once has had an effect on me; it’s made me wonder if perhaps I’ve only hurt myself by being too hasty. Perhaps in the past I haven’t given people enough of a chance. After all, if it worked for my parents, then why not me and Josh?

  “He’s still too handsome for his own good,” Ruby says darkly, frowning at his profile.

  Isn’t he just. I follow her gaze. He’s only wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, but he still looks heart-stoppingly sexy. He catches my eye and smiles. My heart flips as usual, although perhaps not as much as I was expecting it to.

  In fact, if I’m being honest, nothing’s quite as intense as it was last time. The tingles when he touches me. The electricity when we kiss. It isn’t that it’s not there, exactly, just that …

  Well, it’s not there. If you know what I mean.

  It’s the only small fly in an otherwise blissful ointment.

  I’m not about to blow it all out of proportion, mind. That’s what the old Clara would have done. New Clara is simply putting it down to jaded experience. I’m more measured these days, not as dreamy and idealistic. So it follows that my feelings aren’t going to be the same.

  After all, real relationships aren’t all butterflies and rainbows, are they? No wonder I could never make anything work out before, if that’s what I was anticipating.

  If only Adam could hear my thoughts now. He wouldn’t believe it.

  Thinking about Adam immediately makes me feel guilty. I haven’t seen him in ages. Actually, I’ve missed a couple of his calls and never returned them. Slightly accidentally-on-purpose, I’ll admit.

  I suppose I’m afraid of him finding out about Josh and me.

  All right, so not afraid as such. But his opinion … well, it matters to me. Ruby’s ire I can take … Adam’s quiet disappointment, I’m not so sure. He won’t understand any of this; he’ll think I’m weak, that I’ve fallen into the same trap all over again. And even though I know differently, just the knowledge that he’ll be thinking it causes me to squirm.

  “Hey.” Josh’s wandered over to join us. He slings an arm around my waist, pulling me against his side. “So, what was it you wanted to show me?”

  “Sounds like she’s shown you quite enough already,” Ruby mutters under her breath.

  I shoot her a quelling look.

  Either Josh doesn’t notice her hostility or else he’s unfazed by it, because he bestows upon her one of his most engaging smiles. The kind which can disarm a woman at ten yards.

  “Tell me, have we met? You look familiar.”

  Any woman, it seems, except Ruby. She’s utterly unmoved.

  “I’m not surprised you remember me. I was the one who kicked you out of here after you broke Clara’s heart in front of two hundred people.”

  “Ah.” Josh nods knowingly. “Of course. I can understand that you’re furious with me. You probably think that Clara’s making a massive mistake in letting me back into her life.”

  “You’ve got that right.” Ruby sniffs, although she looks faintly surprised at his candour. “You don’t deserve her forgiveness.”

  “You’re right; I don’t,” Josh agrees readily. “And I remember that every moment that we’re together, believe me. It’s never far from my mind.”

  “Oh.” Ruby’s eyes dart between us, uncertainty clouding her features. “Well, that’s …”

  “And don’t worry,” Josh adds with a wink. “She’s making me work for it. I’m not getting off lightly.”

  Ruby emits something which sounds like a titter. I stare at her, incredulous.

  “I’m pleased to hear it,” she says robustly. But there’s a twinkle in her eyes which is unmistakable.

  I don’t believe it. He’s charming her! The most ardent feminist I know, reduced to a girlish puddle after just ninety seconds in his company. I wouldn’t credit it if I weren’t seeing it with my own eyes.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Josh says gallantly, taking my arm. “I promised my lady that I would accompany her on a tour of the museum. I mustn’t disappoint her.”

  “No,” Ruby breathes ardently. “No, you mustn’t.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” I chide as we leave her standing there, apparently still a little dazed.

  “She deserved it,” he says airily. “Now, where are we going?”

  “Through here.” I pull him towards a pair of ceiling-high double doors at the end of the main gallery.

  “Breaking the rules; I like it.” He grins, eyeing the ‘Private – no entry’ sign which is emblazoned in red ink.

  I roll my eyes, even though I’m unfastening the bolts so he can’t see my face anyway.

  “Hardly, seeing as I work here.”

  “Still, it’s kind of hot.”

  “You’re such an idiot sometimes.” I give the last bolt a sharp tug and it releases. “Come on.”

  I bound into the centre of the room, my footsteps echoing around the bare walls.

  Josh follows me at a more considered pace, looking around with a nonplussed expression.

  “It’s an … empty room.”

  “But it won’t be.” I spin in a circle, arms thrown wide. I’m so excited, I can barely contain myself. “Next summer, it’ll be filled with paintings. Paintings I’ve chosen. Can you imagine?”

  All of this space. Just for my exhibition. I feel heady just thinking about it.

  I thought I might faint when Jeremy told me that I could plan the summer showcase. At first I thought he was joking. But of course I should have known better. Jeremy never jokes. It’s not in his programming.

  I’ve envisioned so many themes over the years, I almost didn’t know where to start. I was buried under a sea of old notes and vision boards for days. Things I’d never had the courage to pitch, so had just sat gathering dust in my office. But eventually I hit on it. I pulled an old board right out of the back. The paper was faded and peeling, but the idea still shone as brightly as ever.

&nbs
p; It’s going to be amazing.

  I have to say, though, Josh’s not looking as excited as I hoped he might.

  “It’s going to be called Daydream Believer,” I persevere. “A collection of Aesthetic and Pre-Raphaelite art. Maybe even some early Art Nouveau. I want to juxtapose …”

  “Great,” he interrupts. “That’s great, Clara. I’m glad for you. Now come here.”

  He strides across the room and pulls me against him. Usually, I love his spontaneity. But, right now, it feels ill-timed. I wrench my lips away.

  “Wait. I’m trying to tell you about the exhibition. I’ve got so many ideas …”

  “And that’s fantastic. But all I can think about right now is kissing you.” His eyes are filled with desire. “You look so beautiful when you’re animated.”

  He bows his head and presses his lips to mine once more.

  “Josh!” I push him away, keeping my arms outstretched so that he can’t try again. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to kiss my girlfriend,” he says, and I’m surprised by the petulance in his voice. “What are you doing?”

  I stare at him. I’m so dumbfounded that I don’t even stop when I register that that’s the first time he’s ever called me his girlfriend.

  “I don’t want to be kissed right now! I want you to listen to me!”

  He pouts. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted me to be more romantic.”

  “I do! But it’s not the be-all and end-all, Josh.” I can’t believe I’m having to explain this to him. “There are other things which matter. Like supporting me. Listening when I’m talking about something important. Caring about the things I care about.”

  He just blinks at me, like he doesn’t understand what I’m getting at.

  “You just don’t get it, do you?” I grind out. “I need more than just …”

  I trail off. Because, in that moment, I realise where that sentence is heading. And that I’m right. I do need more. Romance is lovely and all, but on its own it’s just that—lovely. In a hollow, ephemeral sort of way.

  If I’m going to be with someone, it has to be based on more than just sparkle and froth. It has to be solid and meaningful. It has to be someone who gets me and who loves me for all that I am, even if we don’t always agree.

  And Josh … he doesn’t. Not really. He likes the version of me which he thinks he knows, the one who tried so hard to please him. He likes the idea of me, in the same way that I liked the idea of him. But I’m more than just an idea, and if our relationship is going to work we have to be prepared for that.

  He can’t seem to understand that there’s more to me than just who I am when I’m with him. My universe doesn’t revolve around him, not any more. It never should have done in the first place.

  Look, I get that he finds art boring; that’s fair enough. But it matters to me, and that should matter to him. I think back to that night at the unveiling, where he dismissed the whole thing as trivial. He’s never understood it. But, most importantly of all, he’s never wanted to.

  And that’s okay. I look at him and, for the first time, I see him for what he truly is. Gorgeous, yes. Fun to be with, absolutely.

  But not right for me.

  “More than what?” he demands. He looks hopelessly confused and I feel a pang of pity. Of course he doesn’t understand. “I’m doing everything I can to make you happy here, to give you what you wanted. And now you’re telling me that it’s not enough?”

  “Maybe that’s the problem. You’re trying too hard. We both are.” I step away from him. It’ll be easier to say this if we’re not so close. “Josh, you don’t want this. Not really. You’re just playing the part because you want to make me happy. And I don’t doubt that you’ve convinced yourself that it’s what you want too. But it’s not real. And it’s not fair on either of us to carry on pretending that it is.”

  He seems to shrink before my eyes. But the expression on his face is one of relief, not disappointment.

  “You’re right. Of course you are. I so wanted to make this work; that’s why I thought I could … I still really like you, Clara.”

  “I know.” I smile at him affectionately. “And I like you. But sometimes that’s just not enough.”

  We look at one another for a long moment. Then, as if of one mind, we move back towards one another and hug.

  “Well, that’s that then.” He sighs. “What happens now?”

  “Now, we go our separate ways.” As an afterthought, I add, “And I’ll probably see you in a couple of weeks when Casper gets himself into another scrape.”

  He laughs. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  Just as we’re pulling apart, the doors slam open with a crash. Josh and I both jump, spinning around to look at the figure in the doorway.

  “Adam!” I gasp. “What are you doing here?”

  Chapter 30

  “So it’s true, then.” Adam glares at us both. His chest is rising and falling heavily, as though he’s been running. “I didn’t believe Ruby when she told me. I didn’t think you’d be so stupid.”

  So much for quiet disappointment. I’ve never seen him looking so furious. His eyes are sparking with an intensity I’ve never seen before. A wild intensity. It’s oddly incongruous with his tweed jacket and sensible brogues, his bicycle helmet tucked under his arm.

  For a second I’m too taken aback to respond. Finally, I open my mouth … to say what, I’m not sure. Perhaps to refute my asserted levels of stupidity. But he cuts me off anyway.

  “After everything that happened. I credited you with more sense.”

  “Shall I tell him?” Josh murmurs in my ear. He sounds faintly amused by the whole thing.

  “And you!” Adam stalks towards him. He tries to point, almost dislodging the helmet in the process; he has to pause to hoik it back into position, which diminishes the effect somewhat. “Taking advantage of her. Worming your way back into her affections like this. You should be ashamed.”

  “He did not worm his way back into my affections,” I say fiercely. Now that the shock has worn off, it’s replaced by sheer outrage, any gratitude for how supportive he’s been lately dissipating immediately. Who does he think he is, to come charging in here like some disapproving father in an Italian opera? “We discussed it, and I made an informed decision on my own. I am allowed to do that, you know. Why does everyone insist on treating me like I don’t know my own mind?”

  “Because clearly you don’t! He’s not right for you, Clara. Why can’t you see that?”

  Josh raises his eyebrows at me in mock question. At least he’s enjoying himself. I’m simply livid.

  Blood’s rushing to my head at such a rate that spots have begun to appear before my eyes. I hold onto Josh’s arm, mostly to steady myself. But I’m aware that to Adam it’ll look more meaningful than that.

  Good, I think viciously. I’m in no hurry to tell him the truth. I want to wipe that superior look off his face.

  It’s about time someone did.

  “Oh, because you’re such an expert, are you?” I say sarcastically, smacking a hand to my forehead. “Of course, I’d forgotten all about your sensational track record in the love department. How stupid of me. Of course I should bow to your greater judgement. After all, I can do so much better than someone who’s kind, funny, handsome …”

  “Thanks very much.” Josh sounds genuinely touched.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Adam’s gone beetroot pink. “That is not the point. A relationship needs to be built on more than that, and you know it.”

  Damn, he’s unwittingly reciting my own words back at me. But I’m definitely not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

  “You’re right,” I say archly. “I’d forgotten the most important thing. He’s fabulous in bed.”

  Josh embarks on a choking fit which sounds suspiciously like laughter. I whack him on the back, not entirely charitably. He’s not exactly helping matters, after all.
/>   “Why don’t you get along, honey?” I say with faux sweetness. “I’ll deal with this.”

  Luckily, he takes the rather heavy-handed hint.

  “I’ll see you later, then, shall I?” he says huskily. Then, in one fluid movement, he swoops down and kisses me passionately.

  Rather too passionately, as it turns out. And for rather too long. He’s playing his role with more relish than is necessary. I bite the inside of his lip, not hard enough to hurt him but enough to make my point. He releases me, setting me back on my feet.

  “Later, Adam,” he says cheerfully, as he strolls past on his way to the door.

  Adam doesn’t respond. Instead he just stares at me in astonishment. “You’re sincere about this, aren’t you?”

  “And why shouldn’t I be?” I fold my arms and tilt my chin, ready for battle. “Like I said, he has many great … qualities.”

  Adam goes pink again.

  “Oh, don’t be such a prude,” I snap. “And don’t look so shocked either.”

  “I’m not shocked,” he says defensively. “I’m just … amazed that you’re willing to sell yourself so short.”

  “How dare you?” I explode. “How bloody … dare you tell me how to live my life? How dare you tell me what is or isn’t right for me?” I step towards him and poke a shaking finger into his chest. “I will decide what is or isn’t selling myself short. Not you, not Heather, not Ruby. No one but myself. Is that clear?”

  “I’m not trying to tell you …”

  Suddenly, I don’t want to hear any more.

  “Just stay out of my life, all right? Stay away from me. You know nothing—nothing at all.”

  I storm out without looking back. If I look back, I might not be able to keep it together.

  And, right now, nothing matters more than that.

  Ruby’s waiting for me on the stairs, practically dancing on the spot in her excitement. I try to sweep past her; all I want to do is get out of here. But she’s not about to let me go that easily.

  “What happened?” she says in a stage whisper, dragging me to one side. “He went tearing in there; I’ve never seen him so agitated. And then there was the shouting …”