Page 2 of Warlander Grizzly
It was best to block him. He would move on easier and find someone who actually matched him.
Lucia Novak, as it stood, matched no one.
“I’m setting you free, cupcake,” she muttered as she set her phone onto the table next to the door.
A sound captured her attention. When she looked up, a little field mouse scurried across the floor
Ew.
Lucia watched the critter scamper across the living room and to the kitchen, where it disappeared into a hole near the bottom of the cabinets.
A second mouse ran across the floor, stopped in the middle of the living room, sat up on its hind legs, looked at her as if it was judging her presence, and then followed its friend to the hole in the cabinet.
When the third one ran across the floor, she got pissed.
She bolted for it and caught the damn thing right before it went into the hole, then ignored the biting teeth as she carried it outside and released it into the wilds of the trailer park.
“And stay out!” she yelled as she slammed her door closed.
When she turned around, the other two were sitting right outside of their little hidey-hole staring at her like she was the crazy one.
“I belong here!” she yelled. “You don’t belong here!”
They bolted back into the hole, and movement caught her attention. There was a piece of paper fluttering on the kitchen countertop.
It was a note, written in the literal worst handwriting she’d ever seen.
Kru said girls like myce. I got you three.
That dumb motherfucker had spelled ‘mice’ wrong.
Furious, she unblocked Steve and typed out, I hate mice and I hate you, Steve. I hope you die alone. Send.
There wasn’t a response for two full minutes, so Lucia made her way to the bathroom to take a shower, thinking she got him.
It was so strange when she spent time here. She had her own cabin that she was comfortable in, but lately it had been feeling big and she’d been feeling lonely. Probably because her inner grizzly had abandoned her months ago. Stupid animal and stupid everything and stupid Steve.
She was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, her fingertips under the streaming water to test the temperature, when her phone vibrated with a text again.
What is Steve’s last name?
She narrowed her eyes at the text. Okaaaay. Maybe this wasn’t Steve.
Who is this? Send.
A call came through from that number. Lucia panicked and rejected the call and tossed the phone on the ground like it was a cockroach in her hand.
It rang four more times and then went silent.
And then it rang again.
“I’m a Novak,” she growled as she flopped off the side of the tub and reached for the phone. On the ground, she answered the phone. “Who is this?”
“Is it Steve Murke?” a minimally-familiar voice asked. “I’m on the internet.”
“Landon?” she guessed.
“Or is it Steve Hanson? I’m on his social media right now. He looks like a chode.”