Page 20 of Spark

“If you’re going to show up early, you might as well clock in and get to work!” With that, he turned and stomped back through the swinging door.

Mia sank back in her seat, her gaze dropping to her blank phone. Still no new messages. Sighing, she slipped the device into her pocket and stood up. If David was offering an extra hour of work, she was too poor to pass it up.

Chapter Eleven

As she drove home, the diner faded from view in her rearview mirror. She waved at Mac as he turned the other way, feeling the ache in her back and feet. Her tub was calling for her to soak and relax, but so was her final paper; the unfinished document tormented her. She turned onto the road leading to the parking garage, the familiar streetlights a welcome sight as she parked.

Passing the locked café door, she climbed the stairs and heard music from Oliver’s apartment.He must have friends over. Her key twisted easily in the lock just as her neighbor’s door slid open.

“You’re late,” Oliver said, stepping out. His tall figure loomed over Mia, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. She managed a simple smile.

“Am I?” she asked, crossing her arms. Her uniform was stained and dirty, a sharp contrast to Oliver’s clean-cut appearance. His black shirt hugged his chest, and his jeans looked freshly pressed.

“Oh, yes,” he replied, moving closer. His strong musk aftershave wafted through the air, and she recoiled slightly, shifting to enter her apartment.

“Hm, I don’t remember receiving an invite.” She avoided his gaze, refusing to meet his eyes.

“You’re always invited into my apartment, Mia.” His voice dripped with innuendo, making her skin crawl. She longed to close the door and be done.

“Not tonight, Oliver,” she said shortly, stepping into her loft. She turned, her hand on the door to shut it when his fingers gripped the wood, stopping it.

“I’ve lived here for three months, Mia. You’ve turned down every invite—coffee dates, dinner offers, everything.” His grip tightened, knuckles white. “You said you were single.” His face leaned in closer to hers, the alcohol clear on his breath.

“You work, go to school, and come home. Why won’t you go out with me?” His wolfish smile vanished, replaced by a sneer. “Are you taken?”

“Oliver, it’s late. I’m tired.” She pulled on the door, but his grip remained firm.

“Tell me who, Mia.” He pushed his foot inside her apartment.

Panic rose in her chest as she glanced around. All the other doors were closed, no lights beneath the frames. “Oliver, please.” She didn’t want to beg; her spine stiffened. How dare he act this way? “Is this really how you want to talk to me right now?”

Confusion crossed his face, and he loosened his grip for a moment. “Mia.” His tone softened. “I just need to know…”

“Good night.” She slammed the heavy door, hearing the lock click as he shuffled outside. She held her breath, heart pounding.

Finally, after what felt like forever, his heavy footfalls retreated. “Let’s keep this party going!” he called, cheers erupting from inside. Rolling her eyes, Mia headed to the bathroom, the tub winning over her unfinished paper.

With her phone in hand, Mia reread the last message she had sent to Aurelio. He still hadn’t responded to her acceptance to meet in person. No calls had come since that morning; nothing from him.

Setting the phone aside, she took steady breaths. Maybe he was busy—he had rushed off the phone earlier. Maybe he was angry and needed time. All she could do was wait.

And wait, she did. For two weeks, she did nothing but wait. Now well into the third week, she decided to delete his number and forget the ghost who left her hanging. Did she try texting him repeatedly for the first few days? Yes. Did she call every day for the first week? Yes. Had she cried and drunk herself into a stupor over him? Hell yes. Nothing. Not a blip, not a dot, nothing. Flory told her to give it time, that he would come back; something must be off. But Mia was done waiting. She would move on, let go, and be finished.

Her hands ached from typing, but the paper needed to be done; she needed a distraction from it all. Work had been the same, aside from the number of times Mac called in or showed up late. Despite him saying the other job would be quiet, he seemed to be missing more and more work. Flory and Mia were surprised the first day he called in, but Mia was even more shocked he still came to help her close up. Even on days he was late or absent, he was there right before closing on nights she worked. Mia had tried to pry more information from him, but he remained tight-lipped. If it wasn’t about work, he didn’t talk. One night, he had fallen asleep in a booth while she finished mopping behind the counter, tempting her to leave him there for keeping her in the dark. But she had woken him with a jab of the mop before putting it away. Whatever was going on with the kid, he was keeping it under close tabs.

Mia did not reciprocate. She would tell both Mac and Flory about the disappearance of Aurelio. She lamented the first week, believing he would reappear. But as the days rolled by, her heart had broken and she was over it. Mac had taken in all her complaints but he seemed to have nothing to offer as far advice. He just told her to not lose hope, he was sure Aurelio cared for her. Mia had scoffed, causing Mac to shrug sadly.

The news had been filled with coverage of recent car thefts, and Oliver and his silent partner were front and center on almost every story. Since their confrontation the night of his party, Oliver had been avoiding her. Whether out of shame or disappointment, she didn’t know, but she was glad either way. It had been three weeks since the incident in the hall that night, but she wasn’t eager to repeat it anytime soon. Oliver hadn’t had another party since, she wasn’t entirely sure he was coming home most nights. The sounds of his heavy boot had been mercifully absent most days.

Her days had regained a certain element of mundaneness, one she felt weighed a metric ton. She was deep into her paper, her mind begging for a distraction when her computer chirped with a new email from an unknown sender. Clicking on it, three short lines appeared:Don’t give up. I’m sorry. Forgive me, beautiful.

The words swam before her; questions flooded her mind as tears fell unchecked. “What the fuck?” she whispered, quickly moving the mouse to click on the email for more details. Who had sent this? Was it really Aurelio? Where the hell had he been?

Without thinking, she clicked reply and began typing, her fingers flying across the keyboard.Where are you? How dare you disappear and say sorry like that?What the actual fuck, Aurelio?!

She poured her anger and sadness into the response, each line a release as she misspelled and typed her feelings. Emotion weighed heavy in her chest, squeezing her heart. Frustrated, she pushed the computer away, jumping off the couch with silent screams. Flinging her glasses aside, she rubbed her eyes to stop the tears. Pacing the floor, she clasped her hands and ran them through her hair, groaning with anger and frustration.

“Fucking disappear right as I open up? Are you shitting me?” Her head throbbed, vision blurring from crying and rubbing too hard. Blinking moisture away, she retrieved her glasses. The computer screen still glowed with her rambling reply.

---