In the Mix by Jacquelyn Ayres

with slight scary humor. “You see me as a problem to fucking solve!” She stands up. “That’s why you’ve been chasing me these past few months. You want to be the one who figures out what makes CiCi O’Brien tick!”
    “No!” I jump up.
    “Yes! That’s exactly what you see!” She pokes at my chest angrily. “Well, I’m not a fucking problem for you to solve, Kyle!”
    “Knock it off—that’s not true! I didn’t say that you were a problem I wanted to fix or that I see you that way. All I said is that I want to help you figure out whatever it is you’re going through right now.” I try to keep my cool. I have to say, though, it’s pretty fucking difficult to be accused of something you are not guilty of and trying to keep your cool about it.
    “I don’t need your help figuring shit out! My problems should be no concern of yours. I. Am. Nothing. To. You!” she bites out.
    “That is your choice!” I scream in her face before grabbing at my clothes. I take a deep breath, trying to collect myself again. I turn back to her. “If I had my way,” I say calmly, “you’d be everything to me.”
    I can see the fight all over her face. Her nose is flaring, chin quivering, and her eyes sit in a pool of tears.
    I wait.
    She looks away.
    Shaking my head, I throw my clothes on and head to the door.
    “Don’t mistake my leaving tonight as me giving up. I never quit, Birkita.” And with that, I leave. I could almost swear that I felt the heat from a fire hit my back as I closed the door. I definitely did hear a shoe or something hit it.
    I go down the stairs and back the way we came earlier only to run into Mitch in the kitchen. “Dude, are you drinking a Capri Sun?” I chuckle at him.
    He breaks away from the tiny yellow straw, “Shut-up, man, I’m thirsty. Besides . . . I like this flavor.” He shrugs.
    “You have another one?”
    “Yeah.” He opens the fridge. “Here. Hurry up before Charlotte catches us,” he says with a bit of urgency.
    “Why, is she the juice box police?”
    “Affirmative.”
    “So . . . this has become a problem with you, has it?” Yes, I’m smirking.
    “I guess so. Why don’t they make this shit for adults? Kids get everything.” He shakes his head before slurping the rest up.
    “Dude . . . I think you got it all.” I laugh again as I put my straw in. Yup . . . I forgot to not squeeze the container while doing so. “I’m glad I’m providing entertainment for you,” I say as he laughs and grabs me a towel.
    “Here.” He throws it at me. “What are you still doing here anyway?”
    “Uh, safe to say, screwing things up with CiCi.”
    “Oh, I’m sure that she’s putting in most of that effort.”
    “No, man, I fucked up tonight.” I put the juice down and rinse off my hands. “Do you, by chance, know what’s going on with her? I mean, other than what she mentioned earlier?”
    “No, can’t say that I do. I’d ask Charlotte for you but I’ve put myself in the dog house, as well.”
    “You two going to be ok?” I turn and lean against the counter, drying my hands.
    “Yeah,” he sighs. “We’ll be real good once I get cured from this ‘foot in mouth’ syndrome I seem to suffer from.”
    “Did you start seeing a therapist?”
    “Nah. My first appointment is next week.”
    “Make sure to mention the whole surrogacy thing. I know that’s weighing heavy on your mind,” I remind him. A few months back, just when he and Charlotte had come to grips with their feelings, she had informed him that she was going to be the surrogate for Ava and Trent’s baby. It didn’t go over too well, but in the interest of not losing her, Mitch conceded.
    “Shhh!” He puts a finger up to his lips and peaks out of the kitchen. “Don’t talk so loud. Especially, about that shit.”
    “Sorry.”
    He leans back against the counter next to me. “It took,” he says quietly.
    “Shit, man,” is all I say. I don’t know what else to say. I know he doesn’t