Inevitable Mistakes

| Chapter 14 |

| CHAPTER 14 |

HAZEL STAYED THE night.

After our conversation in the kitchen, it was like everything inside me had pretty much dried up, so I turned in early. Partly because I got the feeling that she wanted time alone with Alex, and partly because I desperately needed to get back to my never-ending apartment hunt. I mumbled something about being tired and slipped upstairs, grateful for a reason to finally disappear.

The hunt—if I could even call it that, was bleak. More of a dead end than usual. Every place was either wildly out of my budget or snatched up before I could even blink. By the time I hit the fifth dead end, Wyoming was starting to look like an actual, viable option again.

My night only got worse when I dreamt that I was being hunted by the apartment listings. Like, actually hunted. Bows, arrows, literally the whole survivalist package. Apartment 613 was in the middle of sacrificing me when I woke up with a jolt.

The guest bedroom door was still cracked open when I passed it on my way downstairs. The sharp tang of paint had finally faded, being replaced by the cozy smell of eggs and pancakes wafting in the air.

When I got to the kitchen, Hazel was around the stove, her focus trained on the eggs she was scrambling.

My feet tried to retreat, but they were too slow, and her head whipped around, catching me mid-backpedal.

"Hey," she greeted.

"Hi," I answered, forcing a smile that felt as stiff as it looked.

She went back to stirring the eggs, and for several seconds, I shuffled on my feet, wondering if I should just retreat to my room again. Instead, I slid onto one of the barstools, looking over at the stack of pancakes and carton of fruit juice on the island.

This can only be awkward if I make it awkward. I told myself. This is normal. Act natural.

Hazel turned, dishing the eggs out onto a plate and pushing it next to the pancakes. One of Alex's T-shirts draped over her small frame, stopping mid-thigh. Pancake mix lightly dusted the hem, and her black hair was piled into a loose bun, pieces falling out to frame her face. There was a hickey peeking out from beneath the shirt, right where her collar bone curved into her neck that I tried not to notice.

I used to roll my eyes at how women in movies would wake up looking flawless, donning that 'I woke up like this' look. It was always unrealistic to me, but Hazel proved me wrong. She was effortlessly just that, like the concept was invented just for her.

Running a hand down my curls, I tried to tame the wildest parts, knowing my effort was probably futile.

"Smells delicious," I complimented, and I meant it. Everything looked great.

"Thank you" she said, rounding the counter with two glass plates. She placed one down in front of me before sitting with her own, stacking pancakes onto it like it was just another morning. "You can have some. I made enough."

"Oh." The word tumbled out soft and unsure. "Thanks." Having breakfast with Hazel was the last thing I expected would happen after yesterday.

I cautiously added two pancakes to my plate, followed by a spoonful of eggs, waiting for...something. For her to say the thing I'd been dreading, to hand me her verdict and end the worry gnawing at me.

"Where's Alex?" I asked.

She cut a piece of pancake and forked it into her mouth. "His parents. It's Sunday." She shrugged. "I thought you knew his schedule. Like a stalker."