He rubs his forehead and blows out a slow breath. “Yeah.”
My gut twists. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Because she’s hot?”
“She’s afraid of geese, and she thinks I’m funny,” he answers, and I get the message. This is about more than a slammin’ body. “She studies in the library,” he finally explains. “I’d seen her there a few times when I was leaving study tables. She tutors high school kids sometimes, and I’ve watched her.”
“Creep much?”
“Shut the fuck up. I mean when I was stuck at study tables and she was a few feet away helping some idiot kid pass Spanish. There’s just something about her. Then when I realized she was Bailey’s friend . . . You know her too?”
“Not really. We met today. She’s”—so fucking special I want her for myself—“nice.”
After a few minutes, everyone’s getting ready to go to dinner, and I make up an excuse to skip it and head to the library. I find her tucked into a corner in the basement, legs curled under her, textbook open on the table.
When I spot her, I have to stop for a minute and catch my breath. Because she steals it. When I first saw her in my room today, I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. She’s that kind of beautiful. She has caramel skin, big brown eyes, full lips, high cheekbones dotted with the most adorable freckles, and long, dark hair that falls in soft waves around her shoulders. And her body? If she works at the strip club with Bailey, she’s gotta make a killing. But I already know she doesn’t. This isn’t the kind of girl who’d be comfortable taking off her clothes for money.
It’s hot in the library, and the sweater she wore earlier is draped over the back of her chair, leaving her in a soft gray tank that shows her freckled shoulders.
She lifts her head from her book, as if sensing my appraisal. Our eyes lock, and my stomach flips.
I swallow. “I didn’t know you had something going with Brogan.”
“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”
“I—” I snap my mouth shut. I’m not going to insult her by pretending nothing happened between us today. We may not have touched, but we connected, and if Bailey hadn’t texted, I would have kissed Mia. I still haven’t decided if I’m grateful for or resentful of that text. “Not so much a girlfriend as a girl I’ve been seeing.”
“And does she have a thing?” Mia asks.
“What?”
She cocks her head. “A thing she wants so desperately that the idea of having it makes her as sick to her stomach as the idea of never having it?”
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my heart. Right there in the teeth of the woman my best friend has fallen hard for. “No,” I admit. “She doesn’t have a thing. Most people don’t, Mia.”
“Does Brogan?”
I close my eyes. “I couldn’t be best friends with someone who didn’t.”
“You’re best friends.” She chuckles softly and shakes her head. “Of course you are.”
I take the chair across from her, spin it around, and sit. “Mia?” I like saying her name. I like how it rolls off my tongue, how it suits her, and how her lips part just a fraction when I say it. Mia. Mine. But she’s not mine, and any connection I felt to her today is meaningless if she has feelings for my best friend. “What are you going to do? Are you going to give him a chance?”
With pursed lips, she closes her book. Her mouth is perfect. Pink and soft. I bet she doesn’t even wear that sticky gloss crap that girls seem to like so much. “I don’t even know him,” she says.
“He’s a really good guy.” I’m underselling it. Brogan isn’t just a good guy. He’s the best. He’s been there for me like no one else has. “He’s the kind of guy a girl like you should want.”
She looks at my fingers, and I realize I’ve settled my hand on the table less than an inch from hers. “Is that why you’re here? To convince me to go out with your best friend?”
“I’m not sure why I’m here.” My pulse beats in my throat. I could shift forward and touch her. Are her hands as soft as they look? Is her mouth as sweet? “Except that I keep thinking how Brogan deserves a girl like you.”
“A girl like me?”
Sweet. Vulnerable. Passionate. Someone who makes his heart hammer in his chest