Page 23 of Unhitched

Chapter fourteen

Kace

I was set on nothing traditional for my not date with Mya.

If I can’t kiss her without being a bitch about it, I sure as shit can’t make it through a real date.

And considering how epically bad her date ended for me, I don’t feel a ton of pressure when it comes to planning something Mya will enjoy.

While I’m a little hesitant about part two–considering it’s something I’ve never done, let alone with a woman–Mya seems easily entertained.

I think I have a chance at winning the bet, being justified in refusing rent, and getting Mya on with her life in no time.

Exiting my room, I catch Mya right as she stands from the couch, still in her usual sleepwear–tiny shorts and a sports bra.

Fuck me. I beg my dick not to jump at the reminder that my roommate is hot, and push the thought of trying a second kiss from my mind.

This is a not date with a girl who gets bored too easily to trust with something as fragile as dating. “What’s the plan for today?” she asks.

“Do you actually want me to go over it with you?” I’m fully willing to give her the rundown if she’d like.

“On second thought, no.” She grins. “Just tell me what to wear and where to be. ”

I point toward the barstools at the kitchen counter. “Meet me there in a minute. No need to change yet.”

She gives me a quizzical look but bounces toward the kitchen nonetheless.

I retrieve today’s first activity from my room.

Something Mya said when she suggested the challenge triggered an idea.

When I was settled into my relationship with Ruby, every compromise between us seemed like less of a deal as time passed.

It’s like I got so used to making sacrifices, the impact of it faded as each decision became a habit.

One main issue we had was Ruby’s constant need to try new foods.

There’s nothing wrong with that–I’m willing to try almost anything once, but she never understood the comfort I found in consistency.

In leftovers. In tried-and-true go-to dishes to take away a stressor of life.

But after a long day at the office, she’d have us both meet at a new restaurant in Portland.

It was never in Vancouver, and now that I’m thinking about it, I’m sure there was some fucking affair reason for that.

It was always without a reservation too.

Every.

Single.

Night.

The world jokes about the majority of women who can’t make up their mind when you ask where they want to eat. Well, Ruby is not part of that statistic, and as first-world problem as it sounds, it was a huge stressor in my day.

The thing is, I want to try something new sporadically.

I have activities I want to experience and foods I crave, but it always felt like it would turn into a slippery slope.

If I told Ruby I wanted to try something, she would find every restaurant in the city that served it so we could taste and compare.

Yes, I crave routine. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to experience something outside of it. I just don’t want it to turn into a whole damn thing.

And that’s why I’m sliding a black bag with red flames labeled The Death Nut Challenge across the breakfast counter toward Mya. Because it can be a one-time deal–not a whole fucking thing.

Her eyes immediately widen. “I don’t know what that is, but it sounds terrifying.”

“I did have to accept the terms that it involves risk of personal injury to buy it.” I resist a laugh. “But it’s just a spicy food challenge.”

“We’re just going for it, aren’t we?”

I grin with a lick of my lips. “Sure are.”

“Okay, I’m ready.” She grins, and it’s mesmerizing enough to keep my stare locked on her face instead of falling to her bare stomach.

Okay, well, at least not for more than a second.

Maybe she doesn’t stick to a program, but her workouts work .

Her smooth skin is toned, the outer ab lines faint, but there.

Her posture is impressive too, for someone I’ve seen hunched over a project on the floor for hours at a time.

“Are you sure? What’s your spice tolerance?”

“I don’t like anything hot except for Chad Michael Murray. I might die,” she says with a perfectly straight face that she holds for a full second before breaking into another smile.

I smirk. “Alrighty then.” I reach for the bag, ripping it open and laying the five individual packets in front of us in order from one to five.

I pick up the two pairs of latex gloves and hand one to Mya.

“We have to eat one nut from each of the five levels of spice without eating or drinking anything during or for five minutes after.”

“Have you done this before?” She wiggles around on the bar stool until she’s comfortable, then pulls the black gloves onto her hands.

“No. You?” I reach for the first bag after I put on my gloves and rip it open.

She shakes her head. “Have I ever purposely burned off my taste buds?” She giggles, and it’s so fucking cute, I almost want to kiss her.

Then I remember last weekend, and all the weird ass feelings come rushing back.

“But there’s no one else I’d rather trauma bond with than you,” she says, her voice thick with sarcasm.

She sticks out her tongue and scrunches her nose as she reaches her hand out. “Hit me, Blazer.”

“The first pack is mild. It probably won't be too bad.” I sprinkle one pepper-covered peanut into her palm.

Mya tosses it into her mouth like she’s not concerned in the least. I follow suit. I chew, my saliva mixing with the dryness of the nut and the powder coating, as I watch Mya. It actually has a good flavor. I could probably snack on these.

“It’s not that bad.” She proceeds to chew a few more times. “Okay, maybe it’s a little spicy,” she amends.

I chuckle, reaching for the second bag between us and ripping it open. Mya holds out her hand again. “The Party Is Starting.” I pop the nut into my mouth.

“What party?” She places the nut on her tongue and licks the residue off her glove-covered fingers.

“That’s what level two is called.” I show her the packet label.

She grins, holding the peanut between her molars. “Nah. Every day is a party with me.”

That wouldn’t be my word of choice, but the sentiment is not wrong. “This one has a kick.” It would probably be okay in trail mix with something sweet.

“Uh huh.” She barely gets the words out before she hiccups. “I’m not sure this is going to be my type of party.” The smile still present on her face contradicts her words.

“You ready for ‘Question Your Commitment?’” I tear open the third bag.

“If you mean the nut, then yes.” She plucks the next one from the bag in my hand and takes a deep breath before biting into it.

She chews slowly, like she’s disgusted, and I hold off from popping my own nut into my mouth.

Her eyes are wide when a bead of sweat forms on her brow.

“This is not good,” she manages, shaking her head.

“Are you ‘questioning your commitment?’” I smirk, finally eating my nut. Fucking hell, it’s hot. I can tell before I even bite through it. I choke a tiny bit, covering it by clearing my throat .

Mya’s palm slams on the counter. She swallows. “Dammit, Kace. You make your first joke ever, and I nearly miss it because you’re killing me. Was that your real plan?”

I school my face to keep Mya from realizing how much she affects me. Hell, I’m not even ready to process how much she’s been affecting me. I’m not sure why I don’t want her knowing that I enjoy her presence. Maybe to avoid the whole kissing shit again. “Do you want to forfeit?”

“No. I’m in this. Next!” She reaches for the fourth bag and rips it open herself.

“Boom! Fire It Up!” Tossing the nut into the air, she tilts her head back to catch it in her mouth.

“Winner!” she says but immediately starts choking.

“Not winner.” She coughs while shaking her head.

“Not winner,” she repeats with strain in her voice.

“Are you okay?” I stand to get her a glass of water.

She continues with her alternating between coughing and choking while shaking her head and waving for me to stop. “I’m good,” she manages as her eyes water. “Fuck me, this is hot.”

I can’t help but smile at her cursing as I stand, leaning against the counter next to her. It’s not that I haven’t heard her swear, but it’s rare, and coming from her pretty lips, it amuses me.

“Are you going to suffer with me or not?” She coughs again, tears sitting in her eyes, and her cheeks flush.

“It’s not that bad,” I insist, putting the level-four nut in my mouth. I chew. Slowly. Fuck. I need more saliva to be able to swallow this, but the powder is so fucking dry. Sweat prickles along my hairline.

“Yeah, clearly.” Mya rolls her teary, red-streaked eyes as a bead of sweat drips down the side of her face.

I swallow–barely. “Are you okay?” I try to ignore the fact that my tongue is tingling.

“Uh huh.” She smashes her face into a fake smile and nods her head too enthusiastically.

“We don’t have to do the last one. ”

“No way. We’re doing it. I’m not wimping out! I’m finishing, and I’m going to like it, dammit.”

“That’s what she said.” The words tumble out of my mouth, and I feel seventeen again.

Her gaze snaps to me, her hands flying to her mouth. Right before they touch her skin, she thinks better of it and pulls them away. “Kace no middle name Levitt! Are you actually a good time ?”

I can’t help but wonder in what sense she means those words, but I decide to take them literally. “No.” I deadpan.

“Whatever.” She brushes me off with a wave of her hand. “One more, right?”

“The Death Nut.” I reach for the bag and my mouth waters at the thought–not in a good way. The darkness of this powder is so terrifying my stomach flips. It’s worse than when your jaw pings in pain at just the sight of a Warhead sour candy.

“Oh god.” Fear flashes across her face.

“Last chance to back out.”