Page 51 of Lose You Twice

“You can go home,” I say.

“I know,” he says, but continues along with me anyway.

The locker room is mostly empty when we walk in. The lights hum overhead. A few stalls are still messy, even though I have asked everyone, repeatedly, to stop treating the room like a landfill.

I move to my stall and pull the practice plan from under my binder. Grayson leans against the stall beside mine and waits.

I wait, too, but he has more patience than me.

I give in first. “What?”

“You’ve checked your phone four times.”

“Stalking me much?” I ask. “I was getting a practice plan, then I will reply to my texts. Not sure why you’re so concerned.”

I leave before he can say anything else.

Instead of heading for the apartment, I hit the library, which is way too crowded, so I end up going home.

I set my keys in the bowl and adjust them until they sit flat. I take off my shoes and line them beside the door. I put my bag on the chair, then move it to the floor because the strap hangs wrong over the side.

My phone stays inside it.

I make dinner I don’t want, which consists of chicken, rice, and vegetables. I eat it quickly, then wash the pan, dry it, and put it away.

Even when I’m finished, I don’t pull out my phone, opting for my laptop to work on homework instead.

At 7:14, Harlow sends me a text. I only know because my laptop is open, and her message comes through on my screen.

Harlow: Did you answer her?

I stare at it. Then type back, careful not to touch Wren’s message thread or the hockey group chat that never stops going off.

Kai: answer who?

Her reply comes fast.

Harlow: As if you don’t already know who I am talking about.

I close the message window.

It dings again, and I close my laptop.

I sit at the kitchen table with my notebook and open my Business Ethics quiz. Question one asks about responsibility to stakeholders, because apparently the universe has decided to be heavy-handed.

I answer the first question.

Then the second.

By the third, I realize I have reread the same sentence five times and still don’t know what it says.

I need to move. I need to…do something.

Getting up, I clean the counter even though it’s already clean. I wipe the sink. I take the trash out, even though the bag is maybe half full.

At 8:03, Grayson comes home.

He stops in the doorway, looks at me, then looks at the sink I’m wiping for the second time. “Still haven’t replied to her or you waiting for another text?”