a smile. “Because you know what they say about no. No is—”
“A complete sentence,” I finish for him, and then we’re moving.
I ignore the constant strumming of my pulse against my flesh, and the way my lungs expand when I breathe in his scent. I ignore the way the backs of his knuckles skim my bare knee every time he changes gears and the way my body breaks out in tiny little bumps. And I ignore that those bumps seem to float across my skin, searching, trying to create a safe space for the butterflies in my stomach to land.
When we get to the diner, my phone rings again.
And I ignore that, too.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Leo
I don’t know who I am when I’m with her.
That’s the thought that gets trapped in my head for the entire ride to the diner. It’s on loop, ricocheting off the walls of my mind, and I want it out so badly I almost say it out loud.
Almost.
“Bro, you took long enough. I gotta get go…” Holden’s words die in the air when he finally looks up from his phone and sees Mia standing beside me. His grin is slow at first, and then all-consuming. He starts to get up, but for some reason, he catches himself and sits back down, his lips formed into a line. “How are you?” he asks, focused on his phone again. There’s a hint of contempt in his tone, and I don’t know where the hell it’s coming from.
Next to me, Mia heaves out a breath. “I’m um… good. You?”
She doesn’t make a move to enter the booth, just stands beside me. An inch closer, as if needing my protection.
“Good,” Holden responds, dropping the phone. He glances up at her, and then right back down. “When did you get in?”
“This morning.”
Holden looks at her now, really looks at her. And I question if he sees the same thing I do, that she’s changed. The Mia he’s known is the same one I do. A small-town country girl who lived in denim cut-offs, tank tops, and plaid shirts. Until about an hour ago, I hadn’t seen her with even a hint of makeup. When I saw her today, I had to do a double take. Her hair’s the same, except the natural waves are straightened, and I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know shit about clothes, but the ones she’s wearing look soft, like silk or linen. The shorts are pale blue and shimmer beneath the diner lights, same with the matching oversized blazer. And her top is more a blouse, same shimmery fabric, tucked into her shorts. And then gold. So much gold. Around her neck and wrists and her fingers, her ears. And she’s in heels. Which, yeah, is hot, but it just… I don’t know. She doesn’t look like our Mia. She looks too grown-up, even for a seventeen-year-old.
I say, because someone needs to say something, “Sorry I’m late. I was about to leave, but then she walked in and…”
“All good,” he tells me, but he’s looking at her. “I already ordered for you.” When his eyes meet mine, there’s a silent request, one I pick up on immediately.
“I have to use the restroom,” I tell whoever is listening and don’t wait for a response before leaving them alone.
I take my time, and when I get back, Mia’s in the booth doing all the talking. Holden’s leaning back, eyes on the ceiling, fists balled on the table. I don’t hear what she’s saying, but I clear my throat loudly and make my presence known. Mia sits back, her arms at her sides, while Holden shakes his head.
Miss Sandra appears with our orders, and Holden smiles up at her. “Sorry, Miss Sandra. Is it okay if I get my order to go?” What is happening?
“Sure, baby,” she tells him. “Your dad got you working extra hard, huh?”
Holden nods and waits for her to leave before telling me, “I’ll catch up with you later, man.” And then he’s up and waiting at the counter for his order.
I turn to Mia. “What’s with you two?”
She laughs once, her painted red lips twisted in annoyance. “Distance is hard.”
I study Mia’s face like I’ve done many times before. I know almost all the different versions of it. I’ve seen the sad, the desperate, the lonely, the free, the funny, and the adoring. But I’ve never, not until now, seen the dishonest.
Mia’s quiet on the ride home, just like she was at the