Micaiah

Chapter two— Micaiah

★Maliya's POV★

"So tell us about Seattle."

I looked up from my untouched salmon to find him watching me with polite interest, the kind you'd show a stranger at a dinner party.

"It's rainy," I said.

Mom made a small sound of disapproval. "Maliya, your stepfather asked you a question."

"I answered it."

"Properly."

I set down my fork, summoning the energy to play this game. "Seattle is great. The university is beautiful. Good professors, interesting classes. I have a nice apartment near campus."

"Capitol Hill, right?" Richard said. "That's a good area for students."

"It's fine."

Micaiah sat across from me, cutting his steak. He hadn't said a word since we'd sat down, but I could feel his presence like static electricity before a storm. Every time I glanced up, he was looking at me with that unreadable expression.

"And your classes?" Mom asked. "You're keeping up with everything?"

"Yes."

"It's just that you left so suddenly. Transferred in the middle of sophomore year. I worried you'd fall behind."

"I didn't fall behind."

"Still." She took a sip of wine. "It would have been easier to stay here. ASU is a perfectly good school."

"That was kind of the point of leaving." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Silence fell over the table. Richard cleared his throat. Mom's mouth tightened into a thin line.

"What your mother means," Richard said carefully, "is that we're glad you're home. Even if it's just for winter break."

"Actually," Mom said, brightening with forced cheer, "that's something we need to discuss. Your spring semester."

My stomach dropped. "What about it?"

"Well, you can't very well keep paying out-of-state tuition when we have a perfectly good university right here. And since you're home now, I took the liberty of reaching out to some contacts. Your credits will transfer. You can start at ASU in January."

The fork slipped from my fingers, clattering against the plate. "You did what?"

"I secured your transfer. There's some paperwork to finalize, but it's essentially done." She said it like she'd done me a favor. "You'll be a junior. Business Administration, since that's what you were studying anyway."

"Mom, I don't want to transfer."

"Maliya, be reasonable. Do you know how much money we're wasting on that Seattle school? Out-of-state tuition, apartment rent, flights back and forth—"

"I'll get a job. I'll take out loans."

"Don't be ridiculous." She set down her wine glass with a sharp click. "You're eighteen years old. You're not taking out loans when you can get the same education here."

I looked at Richard for help, but he was studying his plate like it held the secrets of the universe. Micaiah's lips curved into something that might have been a smile.

"I can't go to ASU," I said, my voice cracking.

"Why not? You went there before. You had friends there."

"That was before—" I caught myself, glancing at Micaiah. His smirk widened. "That was different."

"Well, it's settled now. You start in three weeks." Mom folded her hands on the table. "Oh, and there's something else. Richard and I are going to Europe for three months. We leave in two weeks."

"Three months?"

"It's a delayed honeymoon. We've been planning it for over a year." She said it defensively, like I'd accused her of something. "We wanted to wait until you were settled back home."

"I'm not settled. I'm visiting."

"Semantics. The point is, we can't very well leave the house empty for three months. Someone needs to be here."

The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. "No."

"Maliya—"

"No. Absolutely not."

Micaiah leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching this play out with obvious amusement. The bastard was enjoying this.

"It's a big house," Richard said. "You'd barely see each other."

"Then why can't I just go back to Seattle?"

"Because you don't go to school there anymore," Mom said, like I was being deliberately dense. "And Micaiah lives here. This is his home. Honestly, I'd feel better knowing you both were looking out for the place. For each other."

I wanted to laugh. Or scream. Looking out for each other. If she only knew.

"Besides," Mom continued, warming to her subject now, "it'll be nice for you two to reconnect. You used to be close."

Used to be. Past tense. Before everything went wrong.

"I can stay with a friend."

"What friends? You've been gone for two years."

The words stung because they were true. I'd cut everyone off when I left. Burned every bridge to make sure I could never come back.

"Maliya Marie, stop being dramatic." Mom's voice had that edge to it now, the one that meant she was done negotiating. "You're staying here. You're going to ASU. That's final."

"You're asking me to live with him."

The words hung in the air. Mom's eyebrows rose. Richard looked uncomfortable. And Micaiah finally spoke.

"Is that really such a terrible prospect?"

His voice was quiet, almost lazy, but there was something underneath it that made my skin prickle. I met his eyes across the table, and the smirk was still there, playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I just think it's an imposition," I said carefully. "On both of us."

"I don't mind."

"Well, I do."

"Why?"

The question was a trap. I could feel it. Whatever I said next would reveal too much or not enough, would give him ammunition or give me away.

"You're both adults," Richard said, breaking the stalemate. "Well, Maliya's an adult now. I'm sure you can manage to coexist for a few months. The house has six bedrooms. Take opposite wings if you need to."

Mom reached over and squeezed my hand. "Sweetheart, I know this isn't ideal. But it would really mean a lot to me. To us. This trip is important."

Guilt, her favorite weapon. I pulled my hand away.

"Fine," I said. "Whatever."

"Thank you." She smiled like I'd given her a gift instead of a surrender. "Oh, and there's one more thing."

Of course there was.

"Micaiah is teaching at ASU now. He's a professor in the Business School. Isn't that wonderful?"

The room tilted. I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles going white.

"What?"