it. “I don’t see how it affects me.” Or why it matters what I think. She has a boyfriend, so she’s clearly moved on. Besides, I’ve barely spent any time with her, so I can’t judge. The things that matter to me can’t be seen. They’re not physical. They never have been.
The silence stretches between us, her eyes searching mine for answers, for truths. Finally, she looks away, and with glassy eyes, she mumbles, “I never want to grow into a person that my best friend doesn’t like.”
“I’m sure that’s not—”
“He changed, too,” she cuts in, her voice louder, clearer. “When he left, he became someone else. He was sleeping around, and I didn’t judge him on that.” Quickly, she adds, “Not that I’m sleeping around; I’m not. I’m just saying…”
I don’t respond because I have nothing to say.
“Has he said anything to you?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing.” Because it’s part of the deal that came with our friendship: we don’t talk about her. Ever. “I’m not the one you should be having this conversation with, Mia.”
“I know,” she says, her exhale puffing her cheeks.
“Do you want me to take you to him?”
“I don’t think he wants to see me.”
“All right,” I say, getting to my feet. “I have homework to do, so…” I squeeze her shoulder as I pass, and stop in the kitchen, pull out my phone to send Holden a text:
Leo: I don’t know what happened with you guys, but she’s a mess, man. And I think she’s scared to talk to you. You have to be the one to fix this. I can’t fucking see her like this.
He replies before I can even shove the phone back in my pocket.
Holden: I’ll be there in five.
I wait by the kitchen window until his headlights pull into the driveway, and then I watch as he gets out and walks toward the porch, his head down.
I hear Mia say, “I’m sorry.”
And then Holden reply, “I don’t want you to be sorry, Mia Mac. I just…” I go up to the landing, where I sit on the couch with my laptop and textbooks all around me. I put my earbuds in, set the volume to high. Whatever they’re saying, it’s not for my ears.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Leo
It’s a whole three hours later when Mia enters the house. She stops at the landing when she sees me sitting in the same spot I’ve occupied the entire time she’d been talking to Holden. She’s smiling—the kind of smile that knocks all the air out of my lungs. I take one earbud out and raise my eyebrows at her. “Good talk?”
“Thank you,” is all she says, then starts for the bathroom. “I’m going to shower. Is that cool?”
“Uh-huh.” I nod.
Five minutes later, I realize how uncool her showering only a few feet away from me is. She didn’t bring a change of clothes with her, which means that she’s going to come out naked, dripping wet, wrapped in a towel.
And the worst part? I’ve seen what’s underneath that towel. With a groan, I look down at my lap, glare at the erection tenting my shorts. “Stupid body,” I whisper to myself. “Stupid, deceiving jerk!” I grab the nearest textbook, and, clearly, all blood’s rushed from my brain to my dick, because I don’t even think of the repercussions when I drop the book on my lap to hide the proof of my illicit thoughts. “Motherfucker!” I shout in pain.
“You okay?” Mia calls out. And I imagine her in there, suds of soap smeared across her pale flesh, and then her hands, touching that flesh, from her breasts to her—
“Leo?!”
“Yep!” I shout. “I’m good.” I’m so fucking not. There are tears in my eyes, and I don’t know if it’s from the pain of the junk shot or if I’m crying at the image of a soaking wet Mia that I’ll probably never get to see in real life.
I shove the book off my lap, and sure enough, my hard-on’s soldiered past the point of pain and is still there, looking at me, waving at me like “Haha. Sucks to be you.”
“I hate you,” I whisper, and I’ve officially gone mad.
The pipes clank when the shower turns off, and, like the little bitch that I am, I run to my room, close the door, dive under the covers and hide.
And then I listen.
I listen to the bathroom door opening, and then her footsteps as she goes upstairs to her bedroom. I hear her bedroom