Page 22 of Unhitched

Chapter thirteen

Kace

Closing my bedroom door behind me, I scan my main living space.

I’ve been holed up most of the day working on a big project, so I haven’t had the chance to see Mya today.

Though, to be fair, I’ve hardly seen her at all this week.

We’re like ships passing in the night–or maybe we’re avoiding each other.

Ever since our half-assed kiss and my run-in with her ex, I don’t know how to act around her.

Heading into the kitchen to find something for dinner, I take in the silence and darkness with no sign of Mya anywhere.

Even though things are difficult between us at the moment, and we owe each other nothing, I can't help but wonder where she is. Shaking the thought, I reach for the fridge to see what I’ve got and notice the folded paper on the counter.

Another note.

This one is folded a bit more intricately. It’s in a rectangle, but somehow she’s managed to fold a diamond into the top. How the hell do I even open this thing? It takes me a minute to undo the folds without ripping the note, then I flip on the kitchen light, leaning against the counter as I read.

Kace, I realized I still don’t have your number. Just wanted to let you know I’ll be out late with a new friend so you’re not startled when I come home. Feel free to have the last of the leftovers. You should eat something today. Mya

What is with this girl and her trust in strangers? Yes, I’m aware that I’m one of those strangers, but it had to be reassuring that I did a background check.

Walking back to my room, I slide open the drawer of my desk and shuffle through the pens and sticky notes. I pull out Mya’s first note–folded like a normal person would fold a piece of paper.

Skipping to the bottom, I punch her number into the contact area of a new text.

Call me if you need a ride.

It’s not that I care where she goes or what she does. I just don’t want her driving drunk.

Microwaving the teriyaki chicken, I plop myself down on the couch.

I haven’t spent much time in the living room since it became Mya’s space, but I have been wanting to have a Back to the Future marathon since they added it to streaming.

Setting my plate on the coffee table, I get situated.

My hand brushes against what I assume is Mya’s vintage Lion King comforter–it reminds me of the Goosebumps one I had growing up.

But instead, it’s a soft, navy blanket I’ve never seen.

Checking my phone as Marty picks up the phone call from Doc, I see Mya replied.