Page 46 of Robbin’ the Rich

"You still awake?" I murmured.

A sleepy hum answered me. "Maybe."

I smiled into the darkness.

“Liar.”

A minute later I heard his breathing even out through the phone.

And unexpectedly… I didn't hang up. I just listened. I was warm and safe beneath my blankets. I fell asleep feeling like someone was there with me.

10

MICAH

The stack of lab reports on my desk wasn't getting any smaller.

I sat back in my chair and rubbed my eyes before reaching for the next paper. Outside my classroom windows, the late afternoon sun painted long shadows across the parking lot. Most of the students were long gone by now, leaving the halls quiet, except for the occasional slam of a locker or distant shout from a coach trying to corral athletes.

Normally I liked this part of the day. The silence gave me room to think. Unfortunately, thinking had become a dangerous hobby lately.

I picked up another report and immediately regretted it.

"The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell because it powers the cell."

Technically correct, educationally weak. I scribbled a note in the margin and reached for my coffee.

My phone buzzed against the desk. I glanced down and smiled. Sadly, it wasn’t Robin.

Nate: axe throwing tonight?

Of course, he was already texting before I'd even finished work. Nate had the energy of a Labrador retriever who'd gained access to a credit card and an event calendar.

Micah: feels irresponsible to give me access to weapons

The response came straight away.

Nate: says the man dating a roller derby girl

I stared at the message. Dating was an interesting word choice. My traitorous brain immediately supplied an image of Robin asleep on her couch, her head resting against my shoulder while Star Trek played unnoticed in the background. Then it supplied the memory of waking up to her voice on the phone that morning. Then it reminded me she was currently occupying approximately eighty percent of my thoughts… if not more.

Nate: come to axe throwing

Micah: what the hell… I’m in.

Nate: see you at 6

I slid the phone back onto my desk. The thought of taking Robin axe throwing did put a smile on my face. She would obliterate me without a doubt, but she would look so hot doing so.

A week ago, I would've spent a school night grading papers, playing guitar, and pretending I wasn't lonely. Now I found myself checking my phone throughout the day, smiling at texts, and planning dates to pumpkin patches like I was starring in a romance novel written specifically to embarrass me.

I picked up another lab report.

"Plants are green because God made them that way."

I stared at the page for a long moment. Then I sighed and reached for my red pen. At least some problems still had straightforward answers.

The new axe throwing bar was exactly the kind of business that could only exist because humanity collectively decided safety regulations were more of a suggestion than a requirement. It was half a sports bar, half lumberjack fever dream. The walls were covered in reclaimed wood and neon signs while country music mixed with classic rock playing through overhead speakers. A row of throwing lanes stretched along the far side of the building where axes thunked into targets every few seconds, followed by either cheers or jeers at whoever missed.