and hands off the microphone as if she was just playing around and not ripping out her own heart. But I know. This is it. Her thing. Mia sings.
Bailey picks a lighter pop song, and Mia stays by the stage while she sings.
“I didn’t think it was possible,” Keegan says, eyes on the stage, “but Mia Mendez just got hotter.”
“Dude,” Mason says.
“What?”
“You don’t say that shit about your friend’s girl.” Mason shakes his head. “There’s a code.”
Chris makes Mason move out of his way so he can get out of the booth, then he comes around to my side and takes Mia’s spot. I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from telling him to move. There’s no reason I should insist on Mia sitting next to me. Like Mason said. There’s a code.
I’m able to successfully move my attention back to my friends while Bailey takes her turn, but when Mia takes the mic again, it’s as if they all disappear.
“Do yourself a favor,” Chris says under his breath, “and stop staring. You’re only torturing yourself and giving these assholes ideas.”
I tear my gaze off Mia. “What?”
Chris raises a brow, but doesn’t say anything else. In fact, he doesn’t bring it up again for the rest of the night. Mia and Bailey come back to the table between songs only to return to the stage. Sometimes they sing solo; sometimes they sing duets. Some other girls take a turn every couple of songs, but mostly, it’s the Mia and Bailey show.
When Mia’s on stage, Chris asks me questions about our game this Saturday or about our next physiology test. He doesn’t bring up Mia again or warn me about the way I look at her, but I know his every effort to take my attention from the stage is a favor.
I’m just not sure it’s a favor I want.
Mia
Arrow: I can’t stop thinking about what you did at the Cavern tonight. I had no idea.
My stomach flips when I get the text from Arrow. It’s not like I hide my singing from my friends. It’s a hobby. Something I love and do for fun. But I’d never done it in front of Arrow before, and I should have known he’d see right through me. He’d know it meant more to me than just some silly thing I do with my friends.
Me: I was drinking. It was a mistake.
Arrow: Was it? It didn’t feel like a mistake.
Me: We’re not talking about this again.
Arrow: Okay, but I’m at your door. Come open it so I can give you something.
I frown at the clock. It’s after eleven. When the last of my tequila buzz left me, I pleaded fatigue, and Mason offered to drive me home. Bailey came too, and the two of them locked themselves in her room a few minutes after we got here.
I put down my phone and go to the door to check the peephole. Sure enough, Arrow’s on the other side a few steps back from the door, head bowed, hands tucked into his pockets.
I release the chain from the lock and open the door. “What’s going on?”
Bailey and I moved into this apartment at the beginning of the semester, and as far as I know, Arrow hasn’t ever been here before. It’s odd enough for him to text me—he’s had my number since we were planning a surprise for Brogan’s last birthday, but he rarely uses it—but to call his showing up in the middle of the night a surprise is an understatement.
He swallows hard and shrugs. “I forgot to give you your birthday present.” He leans over and picks up a gift bag I didn’t notice before.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“You’re right,” he says. “I didn’t have to. But I wanted to.” He extends the bag.
“Thank you.” I exhale slowly. This is awkward, and it shouldn’t be. The only reason it would feel awkward to have a friend visit me in the middle of the night is if he were more than a friend. And he’s not. He’s my boyfriend’s best friend.
At least, that’s all he’s been to me for months. Then tonight, he leaned over and whispered in my ear, asking if I wanted to leave, and all those old feelings came back full force, like a train racing into the station without brakes.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask, pulling the door open farther.
He holds my gaze for a long beat before shaking his head. “I don’t think that would