Page 38 of Unhitched

Chapter twenty-two

Kace

“It’s so early.” Mya groans, looking up at me from where she’s crouched on the other side of the couch, presumably packing her bag.

“Early bird gets the worm,” I tell her, closing my bedroom door behind me, duffel bag in hand.

She shoots me a glare. “I don’t like worms.”

I chuckle, wondering if she’s regretting agreeing to an out-of-town job. I recall the other day when she told me the only thing that got her out of bed in the mornings before school was hoping to catch one of her favorite music videos on MTV. “Do you want me to pull up YouTube while you get ready?”

Her smile turns sweet when she looks up this time. “It’s not the same, but thank you.”

“I’ll queue it up just in case. Are you sure you won’t want to snowboard?”

“I’m sure.” She looks back to her bag, shoving a few things into it on the couch.

“I don’t want you to be bored all day.” I set my bag on the floor in the entryway and fill my Hydrojug with tap water .

“I won’t be. Promise.” She holds up a bag even though I can’t see what’s inside. “I have a book I’ve been wanting to read, so this is perfect.”

“Alright.” I was going to offer to bring Ruby’s board she left behind when she moved out so Mya didn’t have to rent one.

But truthfully, a day on black diamond runs sounds more fun than helping Mya up every time she falls on the bunny hill.

She showed me a picture of her as a kid with a broken arm standing outside a cabin with her sister.

I guess her family went on vacation and Mya tried to learn to ski, but it didn’t end well.

She looked cute though, her arm in a sling, a pink cast sticking out.

Her pigtail braids were under a beanie, and she had on hot pink snow pants.

I appraise her outfit as she stands, resisting a chuckle.

This version of Mya seems so similar to the version of herself twenty years ago.

Except now she’s sexy, and seeing her this way makes me wish she did want to spend the day on the mountain with me.

Her black leggings are tight, contrasting her oversized pink crewneck with the word “Roxy” splashed across the front.

Her short, blonde hair peeks out under the white beanie with a puff on top.

She bends over to pull on… are those Ugg boots?

I thought those went out of style a decade ago.

They’re gray with bows on the back, and combined with the rest of the outfit, it looks like she stepped out of a winter magazine from the 2000s.

If I were a girl, I’d buy everything based on how fucking good she looks. She’s a mountain lover’s dream.

I shake my head, clearing the thoughts that keep making an appearance without permission. “Ready?”

“Yes!” She holds a duffel bag by the small handles with both hands in front of her. “I’m so excited for our road trip.”

“Me too. Let’s go.” I open the front door for her and flick off the light before following her out.

I’m probably more excited than she is. I only went boarding once around Thanksgiving last year, and now that it’s spring and the snow season is almost over, I’m so thankful our next job is taking us to my favorite place that I didn’t even ask how she managed to get hired this time.

And, let’s be honest, this little side business is all Mya anyway.

I’m just here for moral support, I guess.

And to make sure she doesn’t get kidnapped.

Seeing her so invested in the wedding job last weekend weakened my defenses a little.

I could feel my outermost wall crumbling as we stood outside of the venue after the wedding.

She looked so damn sad, and even though I couldn’t quite wrap my head around why she was so disappointed, I felt drawn to comfort her.

It hit me that somewhere along the way, Mya became my friend.

I enjoy spending time with her. I like learning new things about her.

I want to be more open with her, but I’m just not there yet.

The past few days since then have been good.

I stuck to my usual routine–work out in the morning and then work split between home and Little Conejo.

Mya crafted. I caught her working out during the day a couple of times.

Tuesday and Wednesday night she hung out with her new friend Chloe.

Last night, we went over the plan while we watched The Hangover .

I was surprised when she had already come up with a loose timeline and a site pulled up to book two rooms at the mountain resort.

She figured it made the most sense to give me time to snowboard first, and her work the job at night, without having to worry about making the two-and-a-half-hour drive back.

Of course I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to spend a day on the slopes, but I also didn’t expect her to plan around it.

It took me a solid few seconds of heavy heartbeats before I realized how much that meant to me.

Once Mya gave me the rundown, it was mainly me securing all the details while she went into repeated giggle fits over…

well, every single Hangover scene. She’d never seen the movie, and it gave me a strong urge to force her to watch all the classics.

Eurotrip. School of Rock. Anything with Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler.

But where the fuck does that land along the friendship and relationship line?

She only focused on the planning long enough to insist on paying for both rooms. I tried to fight her, but she said the girl who hired us would reimburse her for one room, and Mya was set on getting a second one for me.

The countdown timer to reserve the room was about to expire and with these being the last two rooms available, I finally gave in, deciding arguing more wasn’t worth the risk.

It’s still dark out, the orange glow of sunrise barely invading the night sky as we pull out of the parking garage. It’s calm and quiet. There’s no one on the road yet, and it’s also apparently early enough that Mya has nothing to say.

I have the BOYS LIKE GIRLS complete playlist playing softly as Mya sips her energy drink through a pink spiral glass straw.

The first thirty minutes go by without talking, outside of Mya explaining to me that she had to stockpile this Witches Brew flavor of Alani because they only sell it in the fall.

It apparently tastes like those caramel apple suckers you’d get as a kid, and after she forced the straw between my lips, I can’t argue her assessment.

Then she went on about how her second favorite flavor is the winter one and how it tastes like if you wad up a Fruit Roll-Up and shove it into your mouth all at once. Oddly enough, I felt I could taste it, but I also called her a psycho for not punching out the shapes like a normal person.

“Am I the only person who drives behind a logging truck and worries they’re going to be impaled?” Mya asks out of nowhere.

I chuckle. “I’d say that’s morbid, but I think we all have Final Destination PTSD.

” I take in the highway lined on either side with snow-dusted Douglas firs.

Fog floats between the trees, and while it would feel ominous if The Ring soundtrack was playing, it’s what makes the Pacific Northwest so beautiful.

“Thank god I’m not alone. You don’t have any siblings, right?” She switches gears as the sun makes enough of an appearance to be considered morning and allows me to see more than a car's length ahead of me.

“No.” I keep my eyes on the road, my hand loosely draped over the steering wheel since we’re on a straight, empty freeway for over an hour longer.

“How did you keep from getting bored on road trips?”

“We didn’t really go on trips. I hadn’t been out of West Virginia until college.”

She sucks at the end of her drink, the gurgling sound of her trying to get every last drop combined with the clinking of her straw against the can.

“That’s so sad,” she finally says, setting her empty drink in the cupholder between us.

“Car games are so much fun. Like I-Spy. Oh! Or the license plate game.” She scans the road on all sides of us.

“I guess that would be a little hard right now. My memory isn’t good enough for that ‘I’m going on a picnic game. ’”

“I have zero idea what you’re talking about.” I reach to turn down the music a notch, now that we’re talking.

“Okay. Okay. We could play ‘Two Truths and a Lie.’” She says the suggestion like I’ve agreed to play anything with her.

“Nah.” I don’t know the game, but I can take a solid guess about how to play. “I can’t look at you to watch for tells.”

“That’s not the point! It’s mostly just guessing. But okay.” She hums, and I see her tapping her chin in my periphery. “I’ve got it! Let’s play ‘Would You Rather?’”

I do know that game. I remember playing it when I was younger, coming up with the most ridiculous and disgusting things as a teenager. “Alright,” I agree without arguing, knowing it will make time go by more quickly.

“Yay!” She tips her seat back a little, slouching enough to rest her sock-covered feet on the dash.

I spare a glance in her direction, taking in her light blue crew socks with snowmen on them.

I consider scolding her, telling her to get her feet down, but she looks pretty damn comfortable with her puff beanie still on her head even though I have the heater on.

I’m almost too warm in my snow pants and long sleeve thermal.

Ruby and I used to wear sweats and change in the car, but I didn’t want to have to worry about the logistics of that with Mya.

“Okay. You go first.” She clasps her hands together and slips them between her thighs.

I wish my hand was sliding up her thigh.

I glue my eyes back on the still empty highway.