Finding Mayhem

by Layla Frost

“You sure you feel all right?” “I’m okay. Honest.” “Well, don’t overdo it. And let me know if you need more time.” “I’ll check in Monday afternoon to tell you how it goes,” I said firmly because I would be working. But I also understood she needed reassurance. It was a risk. A big change. And there’d been a lot of that in my life. We clicked off, but I didn’t leave my spot at the window. Everything looked normal. Living alone in a new house, in a new state, I knew I was being paranoid. And yet… I could’ve sworn I heard something… With a sigh of frustration, I went to the door and cracked it open. No one. I was about to close it when I saw the folded paper taped to the wood. I snagged it to see Mac written in unfamiliar handwriting. My shoulders loosened as I opened it. An equally unfamiliar phone number was followed by a short note. Call or text if you need anything, neighbor. -Ward Ward. Not Hollywood. When he’d left the day before, I hadn’t meant to call him by his real name since he’d said everyone called him Hollywood. But it’d just slipped out. It suited him. But the nickname did, too. He had movie-star good looks. Not the classical kind of someone who’d always play the hero. He was too rough. Too masculine. Too dangerous. He’d be the villain. Or maybe the antihero. Yeah. The antihero. In the fictional movie I casted in my head, he’d be breaking bottles in a bar fight to protect his woman. And I’d be asleep in my bed across town. Because even in my imagination, I was ...