Stay Alive | MYG ✅

Chapter Five

"You disappeared last night," Ji-Hu says. "Where did you go? I looked for you everywhere," he trails off as I get ready to clock out.

I'm relieved I don't have to work the late shift this evening. I didn't sleep well, knowing Yoongi was asleep on my couch last night. I couldn't stop replaying his words in my mind.

A man's drunken words are still his truths.

"Oh, sorry about that. I left with a friend."

"That big guy that scared the creep away? I was just about to step in, but that enormous man materialized out of thin air and seemed to scare the shit out of that guy. I uh, I didn't recognize this friend," he says with a frown turning on the corner of his lips.

"Things just happened so fast. We stepped aside to catch up, and then I took his offer to grab a ride home. It was getting pretty late," I answer simply.

"Oh," Ji-Hu says almost to himself. "Are you going out tonight?"

"Hell, no! I'm exhausted," I laugh. "I'm going home for the night. I'll see you later. Good luck with the rest of the night!" I reply with a wave as I grab my jacket and head out the door.

The crisp evening air wraps around me and urges me along my walk. I wonder how long Yoongi stayed at my apartment today. When I arrive, Smudge comes to the door right away and weaves her body around my legs as she sniffs my shoes. She makes me giggle as I toe off my shoes and hang up my coat.

"I bet there are all kinds of scents to discover after a day at the restaurant," I chuckle as I pet her fur and then head toward the kitchen to fetch her dinner.

My eyes catch the note I left for Yoongi on the coffee table only to realize it's flipped over, and he's written on the other side of it. Eagerly I pick up the paper to read as I walk to the kitchen.

Hayley,

Let me take you on a dinner date. Please?

You can text me at this number xxx-xxxx.

-Yoongi

Setting the note down, I grab onto the kitchen counter and bend over, trying to fill my lungs with air.

"Shut the fuck up. This is not happening," I breathe out. Sure, he said he liked me a few times last night, but for all I know, in his drunken state, he could have thought he was talking to Smudge! It's hard for me to comprehend that this is all really happening.

Date. A date.

I reread the note while I rub the palm of my hand over my chest.

This man is serious.

My body is shaking all over as I ready Smudge's meal, and when she is happily eating, I swipe the note off the counter and retire to the couch. Carefully I enter the number into my phone and decide to list his name as "7-11," too afraid to even put anything that could minutely identify him. I'm well aware that the number he's provided is probably filtered through a burner app for privacy, but my need to protect this man seems to grow stronger by the day.

I begin to text him several times, but everything I type seems to be too wordy, and with each failed and deleted attempt, my frustration with myself begins to grow.

"UGH!" I cry and, finally, just type as fast as I can.

To 7-11: Hi, it's Hayley. I'd love to go to dinner.

7-11: Tonight 9 pm?

Hayley: Yes. How should I dress?

7-11: Casual