The Anomalies

Chapter 3: Number 7783

"Malia, is that you?" Mom called from the kitchen as soon as the door clicked behind me.

I froze in the entrance, but at least she couldn't see my wide, horror-stricken eyes from my spot in the hallway. Although, she could probably sense my nervousness. "Yeah," I squeaked, feeling my breath catch in my throat as my guilt filled the house.

Kyler's cologne was plastered to my skin, and anyone could probably smell it from a mile away. I could still feel his trail of kisses along my neck, and feel where his hands trailed down my back. Part of me worried Mom would notice that my hair was slightly tangled, notice his smell on me, or just somehow be able to sense I made a mistake as mother's do. Oh shit! What is he gave me a hickey? I'm so dead!

Slowly, I made my way into the kitchen where she was unloading the dishwasher. I tried to smile at her, but I was afraid she would see right through me, so I casually leaned against the island. "What's up?" I asked, slightly clearing my throat.

She briefly glanced at me, and then went back to putting the silverware in the drawer. "You're really late. I thought you and Kyler were just studying," she murmured, closing the dishwasher and turning to look at me with her piercing blue eyes. "You look pale. Have you eaten anything today?" Then, she turned around and started the microwave, heating up my dinner, no doubt.

I snorted, which made her attention immediately focus on me. "Of course, we were studying! I have a big math test on Friday, and I really don't understand freaking cylinders. Like why do I even need to calculate their mass. Have you ever used what you learned in math class?" I rambled in the hopes that she would get distracted by my babbling.

Usually, she didn't follow along with my conversations, so it was easy to throw her off my trail, but she wasn't having it today. "Malia, I think you should take your studies a little bit more serious. I know you want to be a famous basketball player, but someday you might need a real job," she pointed out as the microwave beeped at us. She swirled back over to it, and brought the hot plate of spaghetti to me.

Anger bubbled inside of me as she handed a fork to me, but I tried to smile at her. Mom never understood me, and she probably never would, but I came to terms with that years ago. "Yeah, Mom, I get it. That's why Kyler has been tutoring me," I mocked as I shoveled a big bite of food into my mouth, talking with the noodles hanging out.

She shook her head, but luckily didn't try to correct me this time, and didn't tell me to act more ladylike. Sometimes it bothered me when she didn't correct me, like I wasn't worth the effort. "So he's meeting his soulmate this week, right?" she hesitantly asked.

I should've been thankful for the shift in conversation, but my heart sank at the thought of Kyler with anybody else. I've had plenty of time to come to terms with it, but for some reason, I could never let him go. Part of me was never going to be happy while watching him be happy with someone else. "Yes, he's supposed to meet his soulmate on Friday, during lunch I think," I murmured, feeling my heart drop down to my stomach.

"Malia, I really don't want to take you home," Kyler groaned, holding me as close to his bare, toned chest as he could.

I listened to the pitter-patter of his heart, wishing I could fall asleep to it's beat. Ugh. He was turning me into a sappy, romantic girl, and I hated myself for it. "Are you sober enough to drive?" I laughed even though I knew most of the alcohol was out of his system by now. It never hit him as hard as it hit me.

He took in a big breath, and let it out in an even bigger sigh, like he was slightly annoyed with me. "Yes, I'm good to drive. You worry too much," he muttered as he combed his fingers through my short brown hair. "Is your mom going to be mad? It's already, like, eight."