Page 19 of Unhitched

Chapter eleven

Mya

I collapse onto the living room floor, feeling like a puddle of sweat, as Shaun T’s voice tells me that I did an amazing job through the TV speakers, and Britney’s “Toxic” fades into the next song on my phone.

Learning Kace’s routine during the past week, I’ve noticed he works out in the apartment gym every morning.

Weightlifting, I’m assuming, based on the way he fills out his clothes and the glimpses I’ve had of him with his shirt off.

And then on days he’s extra stressed, he also goes for a run.

I’m not sure how I figured that out because the man is always agitated.

I’ve considered using the gym downstairs, but I’m invading Kace’s personal space as it is, and I want him to feel like he has somewhere to go to escape me if he needs to.

I got a free week-trial gym membership when Matt and I broke up so I could shower, but it’s expired now.

It’s all good anyway. I prefer working out in my own space–for the sole reason of not needing to wear shoes and blasting my music as loudly as I want .

Today’s choice was my 2000s Girl Power playlist and an Insanity workout video.

I thought people were being dramatic when they said turning thirty changes your body, but even in the past year, I’ve noticed how much harder it is to keep up with my health, even doing the same things I’ve always done.

But the high-intensity cardio always makes me feel like I can conquer the rest of the day.

Any movement helps really–especially since I do most of my crafts crouched over on the ground because I’ve never had a designated workspace for it.

Lying on my back, I force myself to do five minutes of stretching, because again, I’m thirty now.

With one leg straight, I wrap a resistance loop around my other bare foot for assistance.

I tug slowly, pulling my leg toward the side and working on my flexibility the way Luna pretends to be a clock on The Big Comfy Couch .

How in the hell did she get her leg to her head?

There’s no way unless you’re a Cirque du Soleil acrobat.

I switch the other leg once I get stuck around the three on my invisible clock, stretching my inner thigh in a way that burns so good.

I would definitely fail the flexibility part of the Presidential Fitness Test if I had to take it now.

A click of the front door whips my head toward the entryway, which I can barely see from my position on the floor. I freeze, suddenly aware of my spandex shorts rolling up my thighs enough to look like underwear and my crotch on full display as my leg stretches to the side.

Kace is frozen too, staring, but I can’t read his mind.

Is this hot to him? On TV, this would be an innocent position the guy finds sexy, but me?

I’m awkward and clumsy and always think I look cute, but then I see a video or picture and it’s as traumatizing as looking into the self-checkout camera at Target.

I’ve been told awkward moments build character, but I’m not sure I believe that.

Self-consciousness flies through my veins like Miss Frizzle in her magic school bus, and I sit up.

Of course my resistance loop gets tangled on my foot, and I nearly fall over trying to get it off.

Meanwhile, Kace still stands there, staring, music so loud in his earbud, I can make out Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” over my own “Since U Been Gone.” Our differences are blatantly obvious, and I don’t know why that bothers me so much.

I pause my playlist because the clashing of personalities, paired with the tension, is overwhelming. “Hey,” I manage. “How was your run?”

“Fine,” he snaps, shaking his head to clear his trance. A few drops of sweat fling off his hair.

“Ooooooh-kay.” I stand, the tone in his voice making me feel like we are not as good as we established this morning.

We shouldn’t have kissed yesterday. He didn’t want to despite saying it was fine, and now everything is weird.

“Well, I was going to make some stir fry for lunch and probably leftovers for the week. I know I’m weird, but I could eat the same thing every day as long as I like it.

I was thinking chicken, veggies, rice and teriyaki?

Do you like that? Of course you don’t have to eat it.

But I want you to know you can feel free to help yourself. ” Oh my Lanta , Mya, shut up.

Uncomfortable in my sports bra–not because I’m not confident in my body but because I’m convinced a shirt would help contain my vulnerability–I move to the corner behind the couch and dig through my suitcase.

I pull out my oversized “Easy Bake Coven” tee and tug it over my head, only sparing myself a moment to love the little witches surrounding one of my favorite 90s toys.

The hem falls lower than my spandex, but at least I’m not as exposed.

I make my way to the kitchen, passing by Kace, who is frozen in the space between the fridge and the entryway and hasn’t answered my question that was hidden somewhere in that ramble. Opening the freezer, I reach in for a bag of veggies.

“Did you work out?” His voice comes from the other side of the appliance, and I close the door.

“Yeah, why?” I hold his gaze, the frozen broccoli cold against my hands.

He pulls the earbud from his ear and the faint music cuts off. “In the gym?”

“Uh. No. Here.” I nod toward the living room. “I follow a program on the TV.”

He lets out a breath that feels like a sigh of relief, and I’m confused as heck. “So you have a program that you stick to?”

“Yes. Well, kind of. I’m more of a mood exerciser. So I choose a workout from different programs based on the day or what my body needs.”

His face falls. “I see.”

I open my mouth to speak but close it again. Does he not think home workouts can be effective? Now I’m feeling a little insecure about my body. Tugging against the suction of the fridge, I pull out a package of thawed chicken. As I stand, I face Kace. “Any other questions, or?”

“No. I’m going to shower. Then I need to work.”

“Aaaaaaall riiighty then,” I say with all the enthusiasm I can muster, but it does nothing to lighten the mood. Not a smile. Not even a smirk.

Kace holds his stare for another beat before disappearing into the bathroom. I listen for a moment until I hear a Blink-182 song blend with the sound of the shower. That was weird, right?

Yeah. Weird. I shake the feeling from my head and make lunch.

Once I’m finished, I portion the meals into the new prep containers that arrived yesterday and align them neatly in the fridge.

I may not be the best planner, but if my meals are easy, it allows me more time to thrive in the chaos of my crafting, and that makes perfect sense in my head.

In the middle of cooking, I only see Kace in the time it takes him to leave the bathroom and slip into his room. His music has stopped, so I assume he must be working. I swear I hear the faint sound of conversation, but I’m not sure if it’s a phone call or work meeting, and I don’t want to spy.

I move to the couch with my lunch and a notebook, writing a to-do list for my next art project.

Usually, I make crafts on my own and put them up for sale, but after posting about a crochet Land Before Time dinosaur set I made for my nephew, a woman reached out to me.

She asked if I could come to her monthly girl’s night and lead the activity.

It’s not something I’ve done before, but why not?

Part of the reason I switch up the projects I offer through my business every week is because I’m easily bored, but it’s also that I love learning new skills and seeing what I’m capable of creating.

I talked her into making chunky knit blankets instead though.

Even being semi-competent in crochet, I barely have the patience to make tiny animals.

I want everyone to have a good time and be able to complete their project in the allotted time.

After researching the average prices for party hosts, I landed on charging one hundred dollars per person.

With the yarn I ordered, I’ll make about fifty dollars off each of the nine women.

It helps that they won’t need needles. Not bad for a day's work. That’s tomorrow night, so between now and then, I need to pick up the yarn and make a practice one as an example.

I got a light pink color for the class, as requested, but found a navy blue color that I think will look good in Kace’s living room as his throw blanket.

Despite our little competition to decide whether I chip in with rent, I’m determined to find ways to make his life better at the very least. And whose life isn’t better without another soft blanket?

No one.