10. Ten Freya
Ten: Freya
T he house was quiet, apart from the sound of the shower upstairs. Kaleb had been in there forever, and I knew that because I had spent the past twenty-five minutes imagining what he looked like under the hot jet of water. Broad shoulders melting into defined pectorals, with hard chiselled abs leading to…
My phone buzzed, and I glanced from my laptop screen to glare at it, Zach’s name popping up again for what felt like the thousandth time this morning. I hadn’t responded to him for a few days, and although I'd been dropping subtle hints that I wasn't feeling it anymore, he still wasn’t getting it. He was going to need to be told straight up. He clearly wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.
“Skipping class?” Kaleb asked as he appeared beside me, his hair wet, small droplets of water trickling down his neck. I couldn't help but admire him, and I was sure that he was clocking on to the fact that I liked how he looked when freshly washed.
“No, it was cancelled.” I put my laptop back on the coffee table in front of the TV, sulking. My brain wasn't working today, and I couldn't find the motivation to continue my essay. We were covering a particularly dull topic, and even Hannah—the biggest art nerd of us all—was finding it dry.
Kaleb hummed as he tilted his head at my sketch pad on the floor, moving closer to pick it up.
“No, don't,” I complained, but he was already gripping it in his large hands—the size of it compared to them making the pad look like a child’s toy. It wasn't a piece I was proud of, the colour theory clashing and my pencil strokes sloppy.
“You drew this?” Kaleb questioned, holding it up to me. His eyebrows raised as he pointed at the large, intricate drawing of an elephant drinking from a watering hole, a colourful woven blanket resting over its back.
I bit down on my bottom lip, shrugging. “Yeah, last night when everyone was in bed. Give it back.”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
“My panties are perfectly untwisted, thank you very much.”
Oh God. I was talking to Kaleb about my panties. Absolutely not.
I took the pad from him, closing it so he couldn't sift through and view my other sketches.
“Are you going to shoot today?” I asked, trying to fill the silence as I stared at my laptop screen, angry that the words weren't typing themselves.
Kaleb and I were now able to have surface-level conversations, and to me, that was a win. As long as we were under the same roof, we needed to learn to get along.
He fiddled with the gun attached to his belt. “Brent's busy this morning.”
“Is he your only friend?” I questioned, the words coming out harsher and ruder than I intended them to be. I had meant it as a genuine question.
“Is your sketch pad yours?” Kaleb snapped back, narrowing his eyes at me and entering the kitchen, leaving me with my arms crossed.
Deciding I could no longer attempt to work on my essay, I brought up the search engine on my laptop, tapping my pen against the mahogany coffee table with boredom.
Remembering what my mom had said at the dinner table about my father, an idea popped into my head. There was no harm in researching his company and possibly getting a contact number for my mom to use. It saved her doing it.
Namalix.
That was the company my dad worked for. Who the hell had named it that? I hoped they’d been fired.
Sifting through the results, I knitted my brows together. None of them were what I was looking for. I tried spelling it differently, but no company appeared in America under the name.
“What the hell?” I mumbled to myself as I clicked on a result. The link took me to a company based in Singapore—one in the interior design field, which was far from what my dad claimed his company did.
“You're going to wrinkle early if you keep making that horrible face,” Kaleb told me as he chewed on his cereal bar in the doorway to the kitchen, his eyebrows raising once I didn't react. I was too focused on the screen.
“Russia?” I mumbled to myself. “No, it's not in Russia. America. Give me results in America, or I’ll punch a hole through you.”
“Why are you threatening an inanimate object?” Kaleb perched himself on the couch behind me. He was chatty this morning. “Namalix?”
I turned to him. “Are you done being nosy?”
“No,” he muttered, deadpanning me. “What are you trying to find?”
Pushing my laptop away from me, I huffed in defeat. “I was trying to get a contact number for my dad's company so we could ask them if they know where he’s gone, but I can't find the website.”
Kaleb hummed, scrunching up his cereal bar wrapper and throwing it onto the table, the plastic landing in my cold mug of coffee. “What does the company do?”
“They design and create the bottles used for medicines for a few different pharmaceutical companies. Apparently, it's a big business,” I told him, giving up.
“Well, a company like that is sure to be easy to find,” Kaleb said, shrugging as he flicked on the TV, causing me to arch my brow at him. His musky cologne wafted up my nose, and I forced myself to ignore how close he was. I could practically feel the heat radiating off him, and although my mood was icy this morning, Kaleb was helping to thaw it—which only confused me.
“It's only coming up with results in other countries. There's no mention of a company named Namalix in America.”
“There's got to be something.” Kaleb kept his eyes glued to the TV.
I shrugged, pulled out my phone, and searched again. I wasn't sure why I thought looking it up on a different device would alter the results, but yet again, I found nothing of use. My phone lit up with a text, and I huffed at it, causing Kaleb to peer over my shoulder, clicking his tongue as he eyed up my screen.
Zach : Freya, why are you ignoring me? You haven’t seemed yourself lately. All I’m asking for is a response. Come on.
“Lover boy sounds like a marshmallow.” Kaleb chuckled, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest as he turned his attention back to the screen in front of him.
I moved my phone away from his line of sight, swiping up on Zach's message. He was persistent, and I knew he wasn’t going to stop until he got a response.
“He's… interesting.”
Marshmallows brought joy and deliciousness—something Zach was lacking in.
I shot a quick text back.
Freya: Zach, I’ve been trying to do this subtly, but I’m just going to come out and say that I just don’t see us working out. If you want to have this conversation at college, then we can do that.
He responded almost immediately.
Zach: So I buy you lunch, give you rides home, and you then decide you don’t need me anymore? Wow…
I scoffed at the message, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. I hadn't asked him to pay for my meal at the diner. He’d insisted.
Freya: It's not like that. If you want me to send over some money, I will.
Zach : Don't bother, Freya.
“I can't find any company named Namalix based in America,” Kaleb muttered, turning his phone around to show me the results, the spreadsheet on it confusing me.
I scanned the page. “What is that?”
“It's a public site that shows all registered companies within the country. There isn't a Namalix on here, Freya.” He passed his phone to me, causing me to gulp.
My throat felt tight, and I began to sweat, my heart slamming against my ribs harshly.
The company my father claimed to work for didn't exist.