A Twist of Fate SERIES (Pentatonix)

(22) See It

( MITCH )

A couple of days later, I no longer feel like an eighteen-wheeled truck just ran over me, although my sinuses are still pretty sore and I have a small headache. But at least I'm healthy enough to go out in public—because, today, sightseeing is the only thing on our itinerary.

I'm in the bathroom, styling my hair as best as I can in this frigidity, when Scott impatiently knocks on the door. The other three let us take the bedroom labelled "master suite" on Zillow, though, if anything, it's probably smaller than all of the other ones because of the bathroom.

"Are you almost done in there?" Scott asks. "I have to get ready, too, you know."

"Two minutes," I call back, and I can hear Scott dramatically groan from the other side of the door. Smirking, I reach over and open it up, still playing with my hair to try and get it perfect. "Well, I mean, you can come in here and get ready, too, but I don't think you'd even be able to breathe."

Scott purses his lips, and I just keep smiling amusedly as I shut the door again to give me as much space as possible. A few minutes later, I finally decide that my hair looks good enough, and then I quickly brush my teeth. I step out of the bathroom to see Scott sitting on the edge of the bed, staring sourly at the bathroom.

"There, I'm done," I tell him, sidestepping so he can get in. "You happy now?"

"You take much longer to get ready than I remember," he remarks, standing up and walking into the bathroom.

I laugh nervously. "That's because we had two bathrooms at our old place, and we were the only ones living there," I point out. "Now, we have five people sharing two bathrooms."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Scott answers playfully, rolling his eyes as he takes out his hair gel and starts to style his own hair. I cross my legs underneath me, and intently watch him as he finishes getting ready. "What time is it?" he asks suddenly.

I grab my phone to check. "10:30," I tell him, and he nods in reply.

While he finishes styling his hair, shaving, and brushing his teeth, I scroll through my Twitter feed, which is pretty inactive—and has been for a while. There are still a handful of fans who occasionally tweet me, asking questions or begging Pentatonix to get back together, but for the most part I've refrained from using any social media. Mitch Grassi disappeared off the grid seven years ago, and hopefully one day soon she'll make her return.

"You know what I've been wondering ever since I first went to hang out with you at yours parents' house?" Scott asks suddenly, and I look up to see him shaving his chin.

"Oh, boy, here we go," I say in response, shifting on the bed as I put my phone down beside me.

Scott slightly laughs, then wipes his razor on the towel. "What happened to Wyatt?" My stomach drops. "Because he wasn't at the house, and you haven't brought him up or anything."

I don't answer. Ever since what happened, talking about Wyatt has been tough. I cried for days afterwards, and I still find myself thinking about him sometimes, scrolling through pictures on my old phone and laptop.

Scott seems to notice my hesitation, and he turns to look at me, his forehead creased in concern, though he doesn't say anything. I sniffle—partly from my diminishing cold, partly from thinking about Wyatt. "Um, do you remember that day that I was moving all of my stuff out of our house?" Scott nods, still looking worried, though it's also slightly comical, since he has patches of shaving cream all over his face. "I had left the front door open while carrying all of my shit out to the moving truck, angry and sad all at the same time. I don't know, I guess I wasn't thinking. After everything was out of the house, I went back in, and I couldn't find him. He ran away, I think. I looked and looked and looked for him, but he was nowhere to be found."