Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
The kiss deepened, and I wanted to freeze time. Even if it meant staying in this claustrophobic little corner, I’d gladly submit to that if it meant I could keep my mouth on hers.
Mia groaned as I ran my hands all over her, or as much as I could in this cramped space.
Hours passed. Maybe years.
Or maybe no time at all.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, I realized it was quiet. Dan and his date were gone.
“I guess it’s safe to go out there,” Mia said, but she was still whispering.
“Do we have to?” I asked, and she laughed, burying her face against the crook of my neck. “Maybe we could just stay here until someone finds our skeletons at their sixtieth anniversary party."
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, I realized it was quiet. Dan and his date were gone.
“I guess it’s safe to go out there,” Mia said, still whispering.
But I didn’t let go. “Do we have to?”
She smiled up at me and slowly shook her head.
23
MIA
“Mia? Mia, wait.” The voice came from behind me as I slowly crossed the quad.
It was after chemistry class on Monday. Usually, I was the one trying to get Cody to wait for me. Today, it was the other way around.
I didn’t like how we’d left things after the movie night. His casual dismissal of what we’d shared still hurt. At some point, I’d be ready to forgive and forget, but today wasn’t that day. I had a headache that had started halfway through Dr. Beringer’s lecture and was only growing worse.
But I stopped, stepping off the sidewalk onto the grass to wait for him without getting swept away by the tide of students hurrying to their next class.
“Hi,” I said, not caring if he noticed the total lack of enthusiasm on my part. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was get inside somewhere and sit down. I set off again, and he matched my slow pace.
“Want to come play piano?” he asked.
“I’ve got a shift at the coffeehouse.” That wasn’t for half an hour, but I didn’t tell him that.
We walked along in silence. Cody was a good guy to be around when you weren’t in the mood for talking. I couldn’t quite tell if that was because I craved peace of mind, or because I was still a bit pissed.
“How was your trip with Aaron?” he asked tentatively.
Crap. Why did Cody have to pick today, of all days, to discover how to make small talk? “Good.” I contemplated leaving it there, but that seemed rude. “I’d never been to Chattanooga before.”
“Me neither. Can I walk you to the coffee shop?”
Okay, I was sensing a pattern. When I wanted to talk, he didn’t. When he wanted to talk, I didn’t. Perfect.
I stopped, feeling a wave of dizziness come over me. “Not today, Cody, okay?”
His face fell, and I felt as bad as if I’d just taken a swing at him. But he’d taken the first swing—metaphorically speaking—the other night.
His brow was furrowed, and I realized he was gearing up to say something to me, and right now, there just wasn’t anything I wanted to hear. Except perhaps: class and work have been canceled, go home and go to sleep. But I couldn’t just take off on him. That would be cruel, given his issues with communication, so I waited.
“After the movie night,” he began. “I didn’t… I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.” His voice was quiet.
I sighed. “It will be. I could just use a little space right now.”
“Okay.” He took a step back. Great. He’d hurt me, and now I’d hurt him.
“See you,” I said feebly, and turned, almost losing my balance, to head toward the coffee shop. But then, his voice stopped me.
“Are you all right? You look…” He trailed off, gesturing toward my face. How lovely to know that I looked as badly as I felt.
“I’m fine, just tired. See you.”
This time I said that last part firmly, and I walked away without looking back.
I wiped down the counter for the third time in ten minutes, trying to blink away the throbbing in my head. My arms felt heavy, and there was a strange sort of weight in my chest, like I was walking through molasses. The bell above the door didn’t ring—no surprise there. It was one of those slow, gray afternoons when the campus seemed to be sleeping. Or just, you know, elsewhere.
I was trying not to lean too hard on the counter when Zoe strode in, her clipboard clutched in her hands like a lifeline.
“Mia,” she said without even glancing at me, “we need to talk about numbers. I checked the numbers from last few months, and we’re not even breaking even on Wednesdays.”
I swallowed, blinking through a wave of dizziness. “That’s probably because nobody comes in on Wednesdays.” Was there actually a day of the week we did break even?