Page 38 of Severance

“He didn’t tell me. He just asked if I wanted to go with him. Mississippi Studios.”

“I’m going to ask Luke who’s playing,” Jess says.

“Okay, so are we moving the cupcakes to Saturday?”

“Yes, Saturday’s good. But not too early.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“And when you get here, be ready to give me details, girl. Details,” she requests before ending the call.

14. After

is this ur toothbrush?

I look at the photo attached to Mikah’s message and type in aYes.

The reply comes in almost instantly, which is so unlike him. Very random and unexpected, considering the last time we spoke, he pretty much hung up on me.

K i’ll drop it off in a bit

I’m thinking that he moved a couple of weeks ago and he’s just now discovering my toothbrush? Who the hell returns a used toothbrush anyway?

But I don’t say anything. Instead, I send him a thumbs-up emoji and try to concentrate on my philosophy assignment. However, the idea of him coming by gives me goose bumps, and I don’t quite understand why. In a way, that scares me because the only other person who ever gave me goose bumps was Dakota.

Spring break has passed by so fast that I’ve barely had a chance to catch up on all my assignments I was given extensions on due to extenuating circumstances. As expected, April has been unkind and gloomy. There have been some really warm days and some really rainy ones, and this week’s weather still seems bipolar. I wonder if it’s this moody because she’s a woman. Because that’s how we are—we can’t always control our emotions. They seem to go from one extreme to another. Kind of like me going from zero to ten at the sight of Mikah’s text.It’s strange and exhausting.

This morning was sunny, but the afternoon has brought more clouds, and the constant change of scenery outside my window is giving me whiplash. That’s my excuse for not getting philosophy done. And for not answering countless texts from Jess with invites to the meet-up she organized for the Crystal Room attack survivors.

Mikah’s truck roars into our driveway at around six. My father has just gotten home from work and my mother’s in the middle of making her famous chicken casserole.

I rush downstairs in my sweats and tee. Parts of me tingle with anticipation and parts of me are a little nervous because I haven’t seen Mikah in several weeks and I wonder if he’s changed. His Instagram has been dead ever since the attack. The last post was a selfie of him, Dakota, and Blaze before the show. Every time I look up his account, that’s the photo I see.

“Who is it?” My father asks as I hurry past him to the front door. He takes off his jacket and slings it over his forearm, his tired eyes following me.

“Mikah,” I say casually, putting on my sneakers and slipping out onto the porch without giving him further explanation.

The warm wind whips my hair against my cheeks, so I pull it back and tie it into a bun.

Mikah steps out of his truck and gives me a nod, a mask of indifference on his face. His thumbs are tucked into the front pockets of his jeans and he’s wearing a Ramones t-shirt.

“Hey,” I say, walking up to him.

“Hey yourself,” he mutters, his eyes locking on mine.

“You didn’t have to drive all the way here. I could have stopped by and picked it up.”And checked out your new place.

“It’s not a big deal. I was going to be in the area anyway.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“Both.”

He grabs a small box from the truck and hands it to me. “These were all in the bathroom.”

I look down at the contents and realize that they’re indeed my things—toothbrush, deodorant, and dental floss.

“Thanks.”

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