More to You ✔

Chapter 13 - December 14th (Mitch)

Mitch hated December 14th more than most days. It fell on a Saturday, which made it harder to ignore than last year when he'd spent the day working. The heat and humidity in the courtyard weren't making his afternoon any more tolerable.

"I've never seen you play such a terrible game." Shawn clutched the basketball after it rebounded from his latest basket. Mitch had lost count of how many points he was down. "I'm hardly sweating."

"Thought you should win one for once," Mitch said, but his heart wasn't in the jab, nor did it hold much truth. They were pretty evenly matched with Shawn having the height advantage.

"That's crap." Shawn tucked the ball under his arm instead of passing it to Mitch. "You doing alright?"

"I'm fine, just..." But he couldn't create a convincing lie like he usually did. Everything weighed down on him worse, even though it should have been the opposite. What was wrong with him? Probably the hangover.

Maria still hadn't replied after he asked how about her night, which was odd, but maybe she'd slept in. Or Becca and Tom had gotten to her. Why couldn't she have come dancing instead? Without her, he'd been stuck watching Shawn and Emma together which brought back too many memories off...

Clear your head, Foster. They're not the same person, similarities aside.

"You're fine?" Shawn repeated. He looked around the empty courtyard and added softly, "It's okay if you're not, especially—"

"I'm hungover."

Shawn tried to meet his gaze, but Mitch stared down at the green-painted concrete whose layers were beginning to chip. "I've seen you play hungover before."

Mitch backed away. "Why am I getting questioned? Who cares if my game is off? It's just a damned scrimmage."

Shawn stepped closer and kept his voice low. "Today is extra shitty, for both of us. If you want to stop by tonight, I'm—"

Mitch's heart raced until his head grew faint, and a loud ringing overpowered all other sounds. He couldn't have this conversation. Not in the middle of a basketball court, not anywhere. "I need to go," he muttered and jogged away before Shawn protested.

The midday heat beat down on Mitch, and his muscles groaned as he ran, but they were reminders he was still here and alive. If he was fighting exhaustion, his mind couldn't drift, so he pressed on down the streets and alleys until the world faltered, and he was on the brink of collapsing. After catching his breath, he hobbled into a convenience store and bought himself a bottle of water for the walk home, nearly getting taken out a few times as he stumbled near quick motorbikes.

In the evening, as if in punishment for blowing off whatever plans Shaw had made for tonight with a lie, Mitch received an e-mail from his mom. Most people wouldn't have found it weird, but Mitch had cut ties with anything related to his life in Nebraska, including the e-mail address his mom knew, years ago. His supposed 'best friend' was the only one who both had access to his recent e-mail address and who knew his mom. Mitch deleted the message the second he glimpsed the subject line.

That called for a drink.

The world heard his internal plea for a distraction as Maria's voice carried through the wall, discussing going out again with Tom. Was that stuck-up redhead the reason she'd been ignoring Mitch and had they spent the entire day together? She never used to do that with Tom, and she'd always texted Mitch back. He slung back his cold beer and let it wash down his throat.

In theory, Tom and Maria worked. They both wanted to settle into relationships that ended in marriage and a terribly predictable sex life. The idea still made Mitch's skin prickle. What if Tom turned her into a personality-lacking Stepford wife? She was so much more and just beginning to realize it. At least they'd returned early, so their relationship was probably as platonic as Maria claimed.