Just My Type

Scott’s silent devotion is clear – and all Lisa needs is to see it with her own eyes…

- Kate Finnemore

The colours, Scott. You’d never believe the colours. Jewel colours. The sea sparkled like sapphires, the –”I smile my encouragement as I usher Lisa through the main door of the block of flats where we both live. She’s been talking non-stop about her holiday in Greece ever since I picked her up from the airport twenty minutes ago.

I could listen to her voice, light, melodious, bubbling with enthusiasm, for hours on end. Just as I never tire of looking at her expressive face, her beautiful eyes.

I love her. I fell in love with her two months ago, the day I first saw her, the day I moved into the flat above hers.

Unfortunately, up until now she’s seen me only as a friend.

“Here, let me.” I reach past her to unlock the door of her ground floor flat, gesture for her to go in before me, and wheel her suitcase in behind her. “I had the most fantastic time,” Lisa is saying, “but it’s great to – oh, Mitzi. Mitzi babes.”

Mitzi is curled up in her favourite spot next to the mouse pad on Lisa’s desk. She raises her head as we come in, then allows herself to be scooped up into Lisa’s arms.

“I knew Mitzi would be fine while I was away,” she says, burying her face in the silver tabby’s luxuriant fur.

“Yeah, she was no problem.” I’m a dog person myself. But she’s a good-natured cat with lime-green eyes, and it was no trouble to look after her.

“Good, I’m glad.” She puts Mitzi down on her desk and smiles as the cat stalks across the keyboard, placing each paw with care, before curling up again next to the mouse pad. “Do you remember the message –” she makes quote marks in the air, “– that Mitzi typed for me?”