Escape of the Framed Mute

I bent down to pick up the watch and gestured an apology.

He grabbed my arm, his voice low and firm. "Trying to run off with my watch, thief?"

I attempted to pull away, but his grip didn't budge. I tried to explain, but he didn't understand sign language.

With no other choice, I pushed him into the empty bathroom of the neighboring private room.

In the small space, our eyes met, and the atmosphere felt a bit awkward.

I placed the watch on the sink and pushed it toward him, then typed an explanation on my phone, telling him what had happened.

He finally understood, confirming, "So, you're hiding from two bad guys, not trying to run away."

I nodded.

"Then why didn't you call the police?" he asked.

I lowered my eyes.

The Ackleys had too much power. Calling the police now would only alert them. I needed to gather more evidence to deliver a fatal blow.

Once I was sure those two guys had left, I pushed open the door, ready to leave.

The man grabbed my arm again.

"Wait, you're just going to leave like that? Take off your jacket first," he said.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. I couldn't believe I had escaped the wolves only to run into a tiger—and I was out of pepper spray.

Just then, there was a commotion outside.

I turned, ready to open the door and call for help.

He covered my mouth, pulled off my jacket, and tossed it out the door.

"Sorry, my girlfriend and I had an argument. Could you all please find another room?" he announced.

When the people outside saw the jacket on the floor, they backed off.

Sweating, the man took off his mask and looked at me with a playful smirk.

"What do you take me for?" he teased. "I was just worried those two guys might still be around. With that outfit, you'd be too easy to spot."

I stood there, stunned, my ears burning red.

He had a cool, aloof look, but when he smiled, it was like ice melting in the spring.

"My name's Waylon Pritchard," he said. "You're hiding from people, and I don't want to be seen either. Why don't we team up and get out of here together?"

I nodded.

Waylon took off his uniform jacket and handed it to me. He then pulled a pink hair tie from who-knows-where. Maybe it belonged to his girlfriend.

He patted my head. "Change your hairstyle yourself. I'm not great at tying up girls' hair."

Blushing, I took the hair tie and pulled my hair up into a bun.

-

When we left the club, one of the two guys was indeed waiting by the door.

However, in the dim light, with my changed clothes and hairstyle, he didn't recognize me.

It was already late, and the dorms at school were locked. I didn't want to go back to Jasper's place either.

Noticing my hesitation, Waylon said, "If you don't mind, you could stay at my place in the suburbs. It's close to your school, and my younger sister sometimes stays there, so you'll have some company. If you end up staying long-term, I'll even give you a discount on the rent."

My eyes lit up.

Sometimes, I worked late, and returning to the dorm was inconvenient.

That was how Waylon became my new landlord.

-

The next day, I snuck back to Jasper's place to grab my things.

I hadn't expected him to be home. He rarely was.

Today, he sat on the couch, his face dark and unreadable. When he saw me, he sneered. "Still remember to go back home?"

I was surprised and a little touched. Was Jasper worried about me? Had he really been waiting for me this whole time?

I stole a glance at him. He still wore the same clothes as yesterday. He must have been too busy to even eat.

I headed to the kitchen, planning to make him a bowl of chicken soup as a farewell gift. Just then, Giselle emerged from the kitchen, carrying a dish.

"Jasper, I'm coming! You stayed up all night taking care of me. I specifically asked Mabel to make steamed fish for you," she said sweetly.

I froze.

Giselle wore a new Parada pajama set—the one I had mentioned to Jasper that I liked. It was a couple's set.