Page 5 of Unhitched

The way the loading circle ticks round and round has my heart racing with fear that it’ll reveal something terrible, but a new page appears a minute later revealing no felonies or misdemeanors–not even debt.

“Good job!” I tell him, expecting to see surprise on his face for absolutely no reason.

Instead, he looks at me with an expression that clearly says duh . “You may now pass go and collect $200!”

He shakes his head in disbelief and holds the door all the way open.

Once one of my suitcases is parked inside, I turn around to retrieve the others. Kace is behind me, wheeling the other rolly in one hand and my duffel slung over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He closes the door behind us, locking it and latching the chain.

Man, this guy really is a security freak.

Better safe than… not, I guess. “Alright.” He motions to the right of the entryway.

“Bathroom is there.” He continues walking, past the kitchen on the left.

“I’m sure you’ll find your way around the kitchen quickly. Help yourself to whatever.”

I cut him off. “Oh. No. That’s okay. I can get my own groceries.”

He glances over his shoulder. “Just let me know if you finish anything off so I can make sure to pick it up at the store. I hate expecting something to be here when it’s not.”

I stare back. Why does it feel like he’s talking about more than the cereal I see on the counter?

God, I love cereal. Giddy at the thought of eating some for dinner–even though I ate tacos an hour ago–I skip-hop my way after Kace toward the living room that’s just past the kitchen.

There’s a worn brown couch on the right wall, and he picks up the solid black blanket that was haphazardly strewn across the back of it.

I glance around the rest of the room, but it seems the blanket was the only thing “out of place.” His space is moody, the tan walls the only reprieve between the black area rug and TV and the dark brown TV stand and coffee table.

“This is where you’ll be sleeping.” He points to the couch like it’s not obvious that it will be my makeshift bed.

“Thank you so much, Kace,” I say, resting my hand on his bicep. “I really appreciate this.”

“It’s not a problem.” He shoves his hands into the front pockets of his dark jeans, my hand falling away from where we connect.

“Well, I’ll let you get settled.” He hooks his thumb over his shoulder toward the door next to the end of the couch.

“My room is in there. Since the bathroom is in the main space, don’t be startled if you hear me in the middle of the night. ”

“Okay.” I give him a thumbs up but immediately regret it and pull my hand back. “And I don’t sleep naked. So don’t worry about seeing something you shouldn’t. Just do your thing.”

He scrubs his hand down his face. “Okay. Well.” He motions toward his room again .

I tilt my head. “Are you going to bed? It’s only–” I spin in a circle until my eyes land on the black metal clock on the wall between the living room and kitchen.

The outer circle is Roman numerals, and the inner circle has a mountain range behind the shadow of a snowboarder.

“–2:07.” For such a small, uncluttered space, I feel like I’m learning plenty about Kace already.

Thank god, because I doubt he’d teach me himself.

The time sinks in, and I glance around the room for light as Kace says, “Oh. I didn’t realize. Today has been weird.”

“Or maybe it’s the fact that you have blackout shades over these beautiful full-length windows.

” I invite myself to tug on the bottom of one, watching it slowly spring up, revealing the most gorgeous view.

“KACE!” I yell, glancing back over my shoulder to see him leaning against his bedroom door, arms folded and feet crossed at the ankles, watching me.

“HAVE YOU SEEN THIS VIEW?! Are you freaking kidding me right now?”

I run across the room, fingers circling his forearm and giving a yank until he stumbles forward, and I drag him over to admire the view.

Standing in front of the glass, it occurs to me that it feels weird he let me touch him, but I thank the day for this little joy and point out all my favorite things. “Look! You can see the Columbia River.”

He deadpans. “I’m aware.” It’s blatantly obvious. His apartment sits high enough to see the entire front two streets of the Vancouver waterfront and the I-5 bridge that takes you to Portland.

“You know what this makes me think of?”

“I have no idea,” he muses in a way that makes me think he’s entertaining me instead of making fun of me, so I continue.

“Have you seen the movie, ‘ A Walk to Remember ?’”

“No.” He leans against the glass, and in my periphery, I can see his eyes trained on me instead of the incredible view.

“ Oh. Well, it’s way better than The Notebook , but that’s beside the point.

There’s this scene where he takes her to have one foot on either side of a state line, so she can be in two places at once.

Isn’t that sweet? It’s the little things, you know? ”

“I don’t think you should stand in the middle of the bridge.”

I chuckle. “No, I’m not that crazy.”

He quirks a brow. “Still to be determined.”

“I just randomly thought of it for some reason. It’s cool we can hop on over to Oregon whenever we want. I know people who have never left their hometown, let alone their home state.”

“Doesn’t your sister live in Oregon?” he asks.

My mouth falls open, and I spin on my heels to face him. I know I haven’t told him my life story, but he keeps recalling details. It’s impressive. “You remember that?”

“You told me like an hour ago.”

“Still,” I say, looking down at my white Keds, suddenly shy.

He’s acting like it’s not a big deal, but it is.

It’s not that the past men in my life didn’t know little things about me–they did.

But for some reason, with Kace, it feels different.

He’s not trying to date me or sleep with me, so the motive to act interested isn’t a factor.

Maybe it’s just that he likes being aware of what’s in his life.

Despite my lack of self-awareness–which, ironically, I’m aware exists, thank you very much–I can tell he’s always on alert.

Like he’s waiting for a bomb to go off at any moment.

Sometimes I think it’s a result of living through 9/11.

That feels so specific, but I think it was the start of millennials feeling like their entire world could crash down at any given moment.

I’ve noticed people my age tend to view life in three different ways: Some live in fear that something terrible will happen and keep their guard up–I think Kace falls into this category–at least from what I can tell.

Some become immune and indifferent toward trauma, escaping with denial or coping with a substance that helps them dissociate–my sister took that route for a while.

And some, like me, use it as an excuse to make the most of every situation and choose to live in the present moment.

While this may seem like a blessing, always seeing the bright side can be a curse too.

For example, when I’m stuck in a relationship that my heart is no longer in, I focus on all the positive parts of it and convince myself it’s worth it to stay, even when deep down I know it’s not.

“I still have work I need to get done.” Kace’s voice pulls my attention to his very serious, yet very beautiful face.

“Oh. What’s your job?” I ask, tugging on the strings of my cropped hoodie.

He pauses, hand resting on his bedroom door knob.

“Cybersecurity,” he answers curtly.

“Are you in charge of making everyone change their password every three months so it forces them to expand their childhood pet’s name to have nine extra letters and symbols that make it impossible to remember?

” I grin, and he smirks. A SMIRK. That’s practically a smile coming from this guy–even though the dimples I imagine are still in question. I’ll count it as a win.

“You could just make a new password with a less hackable word.”

I drop my hands to my hips. “How is anyone supposed to guess that the queen of my ant farm was named Flik?”

“Anyone who has seen A Bug’s Life .”

“You’ve seen that movie?!” He’s definitely not as hopeless as I initially believed.

Again, he stares back.

I shrug a shoulder. “They would also have to know I had an ant farm in the first place, you know? Who would guess that?”

“No offense, but I’ve never met anyone as free with information about their life as you. Everything I’ve learned about you has been against my will. It’s terrifying.”

“You get used to it.” I grin. “I like being open.”

“Unless you need to communicate with your boyfriend about wanting to break up?” He arches a brow .

I shut down, one vein pinching closed at a time.

Quickly though–all the energy draining from my body like it’s on a mission to abandon me at all costs.

“Maybe I’m open in every other area of my life to make up for that one area I’m not so good at when it comes to being vulnerable.

” I whisper the words I’ve never spoken aloud before.

I’m both relieved and embarrassed at the realization.

Kace hums a sound of acknowledgment, then without another word, disappears behind the wooden door.

Part of me wishes my remark had led to a heart-to-heart because I feel the need to process its effect on my life, but it’s probably best he didn’t make me elaborate.

He’s so contradictory, and I hardly know which way is up with him.

He ruined my Valentine’s date, but he saved me from a boring relationship.

He’s fine on the outside, but a total grump inside.

That’s not the kind of man I need a relationship with.