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Summary
My Shane is a little bit like a prickly kitten, he can admit to himself, fondly, as he dozes off. In the quiet of his own head, he concedes that his love for cats did grow bigger after growing closer to Shane. He thinks of a sleep-rumpled Shane, hair sticking up at the sides, sweet face narrowed into grumpy compliance. Shane would be the kind of cat who’d narrow their eyes in suspicion at a stretched-out hand, but his twitching tail would belie his attempt at disinterest. Though I wish it was as easy to know what he is thinking as it is with an actual cat.
or: Be careful (or not) what you wish for.