You, Me and a Shoe Lace

Chapter 5

Mia sat cross-legged on her bed, her phone resting in her palm like a question mark. The dim glow of her bedside lamp cast soft shadows, but the brightness of her screen taunted her. Nothing. No messages. Not from him.

A week had passed since she'd handed James her number, and the silence was louder than she wanted to admit. Each buzz of her phone sent her heart racing, only to fizzle into a dull ache when it wasn't him.

What did I expect? Her lips pressed into a tight line. Did I come off as too eager? Too easy?

Her stomach churned at the memory of how effortless it had been, how she'd given him her number as if it were second nature. There'd been a connection that night—hadn't there? She thought of the way his eyes locked onto hers, the way his smile seemed to hold an unspoken promise. But now? Now, it felt like a cruel trick her mind had played on her.

Mia sighed, setting the phone face-down on her bed as if to banish the disappointment. She wasn't someone who dwelled on things she couldn't control—at least, that's what she told herself. Her jaw tightened, and she stood, brushing the doubt away.  She had bigger things to focus on.

Work had become her escape.

In the weeks since she'd started, she had settled into a rhythm, the hum of productivity grounding her. Her colleagues had quickly become a tapestry of quirks and personalities that made the long hours surprisingly enjoyable.

Charlie, ever the challenger, had a knack for throwing curveballs. One afternoon, he handed her a notebook, full of new features they needed to explore. "I love how you think, Mia," he said, a grin on his face as he glanced over her work. "You really get what we're aiming for."

It felt good to be recognized for her work, to know that her contributions were making a difference. She hadn't expected to feel this valued, especially not so early into the job. Her mind shifted into work mode, analyzing user experiences, brainstorming fresh ideas with Rhea. The two of them made a great team—Rhea's feedback was always sharp, her suggestions spot on.

And then there was Edvin—steady, reliable, and probably her favorite. Late nights tweaking slides or refining pitches with him felt less like work and more like a shared mission.

Even Nora, who'd initially been all sharp edges, had thawed. "If glaring at it worked, Verlice, I'd have aced this job years ago," she quipped one afternoon, earning a rare laugh from Mia. Later, a casual, almost begrudging, "You're sharper than I expected. Keep it up," felt like high praise.

For the first time, Mia felt like she belonged.

By Friday, she leaned back in her chair, allowing herself a moment of pride. She was contributing, thriving even. The thought was a buoy, lifting her. And yet, in the quiet moments between meetings and emails, her thoughts still drifted—to him.

That evening, she stepped into her apartment, the exhaustion of the day settling into her muscles. The scent of takeout wafted from the kitchen where Sarah was scrolling on her tablet, a glass of wine in hand.

"You've been staring at your phone like it owes you money," Sarah teased, her gaze flicking to Mia.

Caught, Mia hesitated before sinking into the couch. "It's nothing. Just... a lot on my mind."

Sarah set down her tablet, giving Mia her full attention. "Uh-huh. Try again."

Mia hesitated, unsure of how to explain. She had confidently gone with him, hand in hand. And Sarah had seen that, teased about it that night. But hadn't asked anything ever since because she saw the shift in her and respected her.

"I don't know... it's just, things at work are good," Mia started, tapping her fingers nervously on the phone. "But... I gave my number to him at the movie, and now, it's been a week. Nothing. No message, no follow-up. I feel like an idiot."

Sarah didn't respond immediately, her brow furrowing in thought. Mia braced herself for teasing or some over-the-top reaction, but Sarah's tone was steady.

"You're thinking about him," Sarah said simply.

Mia nodded, the admission stinging. "I feel stupid. Why do I care so much? I barely know him."

"Because you felt something," Sarah replied, her voice softer now. "That's not stupid. But waiting around for someone to act on it? That's where you're losing."

Mia blinked, surprised by the directness. "So what am I supposed to do? Pretend I don't care?"

"Not pretend—refocus. You're smart, Mia. You don't need to chase anyone who isn't willing to meet you halfway. You gave him your number because you wanted to. That's it. Don't make it mean more than it does."

Mia exhaled slowly, Sarah's words sinking in. "It's just... hard not to wonder if I did something wrong."

Sarah leaned back, crossing her arms. "Did you?"

Mia shook her head after a moment. "No, I don't think I did."

"Then let it go," Sarah said firmly. "You're not someone who waits around. You're building something amazing—at work, in your life. Don't let this sideline you."

It was so simple, the way Sarah framed it, but it felt like a revelation. "You've gotten wise, haven't you?" Mia teased, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Sarah chuckled. "What can I say? Full-time employment does wonders for perspective. Plus, I have to be wise—it's exhausting being the funny one all the time."

Mia laughed, genuinely this time, the tension in her chest easing.

Mia didn't have all the answers yet, but she knew one thing for sure: she had control over how her story would unfold—and she wasn't going to let anyone take that from her.

She wasn't waiting anymore. She couldn't.

Her phone buzzed on the table, and she glanced at it instinctively. A work notification. Of course. She set it down with a faint smile. Maybe the text would come. Maybe it wouldn't.

Either way, she was moving forward.