Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Operation: Play-Micah’s-Game-So-He-Skips-Ahead-To-Whatever-Bad-Thing-He’s-Going-To-Do is going terribly.
I played into his nice guy act. Talked to him. Even asked for a damn Advil. Practically screamed I’m wounded, come hurt me to the rooftops. He was so charming during all of it. So charming that he thought I wouldn’t notice the manipulation of the dentist.
But I did. I stopped playing the game, and now Micah is ignoring me.
I flip my phone over, seeing nothing but the lock screen. No notifications.
I flip it back, pacing in Micah’s spare room, all kinds of spare energy pent up. Where is Micah? What’s he doing? Why isn’t he pushing the matter? Why won’t he play with me?
Well, not play with me. Not like that.
My face gets hot.
But Micah has been quiet. He keeps to himself and leaves the room quickly if I’m already there. Plus, almost no texts. It’s weirding me out, honestly. Is he mad at me? He’s not slamming doors or giving me weird looks.
Fuck, I’m good at this game; what am I missing?
I hear my phone buzz, and I jump on it.
It’s my thirty-minute warning before my appointment.
Fuck. My stomach twists. I couldn’t take the pain any longer, and I found a dentist who could get me in quickly. I had to sign up for another credit card, which I hate, but it’s better than being so miserable that even a handful of pills can't cover it.
In desperation to get Micah to do something, I almost took him up on his offer. Then, I decided against it. I’ve already lost my dignity staying with him; I can’t lose any more.
I get into my car–my silent car–and turn on the radio. An upbeat tune starts playing, and I remember Micah played this in his car when he picked me up before. It makes my chest feel weird.
Then, a forbidden thought enters my mind. What if Micah was genuinely offering? Like, to be nice?
Right. I snort. As if.
Instead of going down that forbidden thought process, I glower at the road on the way to get my mouth drilled, which shoots another dose of cold fear through my body.
All possible scenarios pop up about what could go wrong.
I imagine the dentist berating me for not taking better care of my teeth, which just makes me want to cry.
I used to take care of my teeth before I met Arthur, then after everything…
I just stopped. Stopped eating, stopped sleeping, stopped brushing my teeth.
I’m good at taking care of everyone else but not myself, and now here I am.
Damn near shivering on my way to a stupid appointment that probably won’t take longer than an hour.
I can’t help but think that if Micah were here, he’d be bouncing and singing along to the radio while simultaneously telling me about anything that pops into his head.
Probably in an attempt to get me to let my guard down, and for a minute, I imagine him driving fast and taking corners so hard I slam into the door.
Then, I frown. For some reason, Micah seems more like a passenger princess. Plus, being aggressive wouldn’t fit his nice guy routine. Yeah, he’d be in the passenger seat singing along to the music.
Suddenly, I miss my sister. Chloe used to bounce around to music with me and do everything she could to make me laugh. That’s all she did–try to make people happy. Specifically, our parents when they would ignore us.
Then, in this moment, I realize she and Micah are super similar, and for a terrifying moment, my assumption about his nice guy act shatters.
Maybe Micah is acting like he is because he was never enough to get noticed. Maybe his endless talking and weird cussing are just ways to stand out so people would see him. See him.
Maybe Micah is just incredibly lonely.
That thought makes me angry. Do I really want Micah to be nice that badly that I’m making stories up about him?
Before I can think better of it, I snatch up my phone.
Me: Getting my teeth taken care of. All the better to enjoy my human with since you seem to think that poorly of me.
I hit send. Maybe this will piss him off enough that he’ll drop the act and we can get on with things. I didn’t accept his help, and he knows that. He knows I’m pissed.
But the more I drive, the more I’m second-guessing it. That was so stupid. I showed emotion. Micah’s going to jump on that like a fly on honey.
Isn’t that what I want, though?
Nerves on nerves boil in my stomach, and I power my phone off.
Let him, then. Not like he can touch me anyway.