Page 58 of Not For Keeps
I groan and flop backward onto the couch. “I was hoping you’d all forget.”
“Not a chance,” Mari says, sitting cross-legged. “We love you too much to let you spiral without at least sending you into the storm with snacks and a plan.”
“Snacks, I have,” I say, pointing at the now half-empty tray. “A plan, I do not.”
Anna clicks her tongue. “Then let’s make one. Step one: talk to him.”
“Do I have to?”
They both shoot me a look.
“Okay, fine,” I grumble. “But I’m not doing it today. Today is for hot chocolate and bad TV and pretending I’m not a total emotional mess.”
“Then we support your delusion,” Mari declares, grabbing the remote.
“I’ll allow one episode,” Anna says, lifting her mug. “Then we text him.”
I grumble but don’t argue. Deep down, I know they’re right.
Chapter Eighteen
MATEO
I’m trying to relish my day off—emphasis on trying. I slept in. Made myself breakfast. I even managed to sit on the porch with my coffee and pretend things were fine for a full twelve minutes. But the silence? It’s loud.
Analyse still hasn’t texted or called. I’ve checked my phone so many times, and every single time I don’t see that one new message notification, I have to suppress the urge to chuck my phone across the room.
Not a single word from her, and now I’m stuck in that weird space between should I give her room and should I just call her and get it over with. The worst part of all of this is that I’m still unclear on what is causing the sudden weirdness and silence. I don’t even know what I did.
But I can’t just sit on my hands either. Yesterday I dropped lunch off at the school office—real food, not the sad salads she pretends are meals—without signing my name. Just left it there because I knew she wouldn’t take it otherwise. Last night I left daisies on her porch, no note. She’s always loved them. They weregone by morning, but she never said a word. This morning, I left a stack of new books for Maya on their porch with a note that said,New mysteries for Maya. Nothing back. Not a word. But at least she knows I’m thinking of her. At least she knows I’m trying.
Whatever it is, it’s eating at me. I thought things were good. I thought we were good. But something’s changed, something’s shifted…and I hate not knowing what. I toss my empty coffee cup in the sink and head out. I’m in desperate need of a haircut.
I step inside Angie’s shop, and I’m immediately wrapped in the warm scent of hairspray, coconut oil, and warm blow-dried hair. I should’ve turned around the second I walked in and felt the tension crackle through the air like static. But I didn’t. Because I’m a damn fool.
“Rodriguez,” Angie says without looking up from the head of curls she’s working on. Her voice is flat—polite, but barely. “Didn’t think I’d see you today.”
I nod, a little caught off guard. “Hey, Ang. I’m just here for a quick cut,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.
Angie hums, still not looking up. “You want the usual?”
“Yeah.”
She finishes sectioning off the client’s hair before finally glancing my way. “Take a seat. I’ll be right with you.”
I head to the second chair, keeping my eyes on the tile floor. The shop’s quiet aside from the low hum of a dryer in the back. A few minutes later, she clips the cape around my neck with more force than necessary. Not painful, but definitely on purpose. What did I do to her? What’s with the women in my life?
“You been keeping busy?” she asks, tone casual.
I glance at her in the mirror. “Yeah, I guess.”
She raises a brow. “At the gym, maybe?”
And there it is. I shift in the chair. “You wanna ask something, Ang, just ask it.”
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, sharp and unblinking. “You and Letty. You two back on or something?”
I blink. “Back on? We’ve never been on before. There’s no getting back with someone I’ve never been with.”
