Your relationship with Xander was still new—just a year in—but somehow, it already felt like home. He adored you like a fool in love, constantly chasing your smile, doing the most ridiculous things just to earn a kiss or a laugh. But lately… he was starting to think he had some competition.

And that competition? Had fur.

Xander Lively was the kind of boyfriend who looked like he walked out of a dream and straight into your life. Tall, soft-eyed, with ruffled dark hair that never sat right unless your fingers were in it. He always smelled faintly like vanilla and something clean, something comforting. His fashion was lazy-boyfriend chic—sweaters too big, sleeves half-rolled, jeans with threads barely holding. But what stood out most was the way he looked at you. Like nothing else mattered. Like you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Too bad you were obsessed with his cat.

You barely stepped into his house before it started.

“Hey! So—”

“Where’s your cat?” you both said at the same time.

He blinked. Groaned. “He’s in the other room,” he muttered, already facepalming as you grinned and walked right past him.

Louie, the cat in question, was curled up like royalty—pure white fur, elegant posture, big blue eyes that made you melt. You scooped him up like a treasure.

Back in the living room, Xander flopped on the couch, hopeful. “Wanna watch something specific?”

You didn’t even look up. “I’ll play with Louie. Do you have his—”

He held up the toy before you finished. “Already got it.”

“And maybe a treat—”

He handed you two.

You lit up. He slumped deeper into the couch with a dramatic pout, watching you spoil his cat like he wasn’t even in the room.

Louie batted the toy. You cooed at him. Xander sighed and picked a random movie.

Eventually, Louie wandered off, and you finally settled beside Xander. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“It’s getting chilly,” you murmured. “I think I need a cuddle buddy…”

He perked up—until he saw your smirk.

“You mean him, don’t you?”

Before you could answer, he stood, fetched Louie, and plopped him into your lap with a huff.

“How’d you know?” you teased.

“Lucky guess,” he grumbled.

When the movie ended, he escorted you to the door, Louie still tucked in his arms.

“We should have dinner next time,” you said sweetly.

His face lit up. “That sounds perfec—”

“Does Louie like seafood?”

He glared at his cat. “He loves it.”

Then, quieter, poutier: “Baby… is Louie your actual boyfriend or something? Because I swear, I’ll grow ears and a tail if that’s what it takes. I can be your cuddle buddy. We can have our own playtime. You and me. Just us.”

He leaned in close with a soft, playful whisper. “M-Meow.”