7. Mia
MIA
“Wait, why is the blue team in St. Louis?” I asked.
“Because they misunderstood the clue. They’re supposed to be in St. Paul with the other teams,” Aaron said, his eyes glued to the screen.
I laughed. “And here you thought they were going to make it to the finish line.”
“Not at the rate they’re going.” He sighed.
It was Thursday night, and we were on the couch in the living room. Since there wasn’t a new episode of American Adventures until next week, we’d decided to start a prior season neither of us had seen.
It was fun. At my old foster home—the one I left after high school—everybody would do their own thing in the evenings: homework, watching stuff on their phones.
Me included. But it was nice to watch a show with someone.
To talk about what was happening and discuss why the hell the blue team was in St. Louis.
“Oh, I think they figured it out,” Aaron said.
I leaned forward, elbow propped on the couch arm, eyes squinting at the screen. “Yes, judging by the look of horror, I’d say you’re right.”
“That’s okay. I think they can get a train. Or they could go to the next stop and do an extra task as a penalty.”
“Have they ever done that before?”
“Yes, in season three.”
“This is getting good. Too bad we don’t have popcorn.”
Aaron slid to the edge of the sofa, poised to get up. “That’s easily fixable.”
“I was kidding. We don’t need popcorn.”
“Why not?”
I shrugged. “Do we have any?”
“Yes. I’ll go get it.”
“Okay. I’ll pause the episode.”
He stood and padded toward the kitchen, his footsteps quiet on the hardwood. My leg felt cold. He’d been sitting pretty close to me—close enough that our arms and legs had brushed against each other a couple of times.
It was nice. Nothing sexual or anything, just… nice. To be here with someone, talking with them, having them so close. I wasn’t used to that, and I was enjoying the evening.
Until another one of my roommates came in.
“Hey, Mia.”
Raymond breezed into the room and plopped down on the sofa next to me—just as close as Aaron had been, but not nearly as welcome. His cologne hit my nose a beat later, a little too strong and a little too… smug? Or maybe it was just his personality.
“Aaron was sitting there,” I lied. He’d actually been on the other side.
“Sorry,” Raymond said, though he didn’t sound it. He scooted over about eight inches, then leaned back like he owned the place. Yeah, because that was totally enough room for Aaron.
“What are you watching?”
I told him about the show, trying to make it sound as boring as possible so he wouldn’t stay.
Which maybe wasn’t fair of me. He was my housemate. A former foster kid like me. But something about him rubbed me the wrong way.
Turns out, he was just getting started.
He shifted, angling himself toward me and resting an arm along the back of the couch. “You know, you’d be prettier if you smiled.”
I had to work to keep my jaw from dropping. “Did you seriously just tell me that?”
He laughed. “Yeah. I heard that girls hate that.”
“Gee, I wonder why.”
“So no, I wasn’t telling you that for real. Even if it’s true.”
I stared at him, unblinking. He grinned like he’d said something clever.
“What’s the deal with you and Aaron?”
“We’re watching a show,” I said pointedly.
“You’ve been hanging out a lot lately.”
“That’s because we’re friends.”
“Yeah, I saw how friendly you two were in your room the other day.”
The image of Aaron hovering over me on my mattress—when we tried to flip it—flashed in my head. My cheeks burned, but I kept my face neutral.
But he kept going.
“So is it his money?”
That made me blink in surprise. “His what?”
“Didn’t you know he’s loaded? He got adopted into the first family of Chattanooga.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“It’s not New York money, but around here? They’re a big deal.”
I turned my face back to the TV and grabbed the remote, knuckles tight. I didn’t want to be in this conversation.
It was only loyalty to Aaron that kept me from pressing play to drown out Raymond.
He laughed. “It’s all good. You do you. Now go in the kitchen and make me a sandwich.”
I willed my face not to react, pressed my lips together, and didn’t even look at him. I’d had plenty of experience with guys saying things to get a rise out of me.
“Really? Nothing to say to that? You’re no fun.”
Raymond and I had very different ideas of fun. He stood and sauntered away, shoulders bouncing with a smug sort of pride.
The smell of buttery popcorn arrived a second before Aaron did. He stepped back into the room, brows raised slightly as if trying to read the tension.
Aaron set the bowl on the coffee table. “What do you want to drink?”
“Nothing.”
“You can’t have popcorn without anything to drink.”
“Can we just watch TV?”
Something in my tone had Aaron pause, then nod once and sit down next to me again, closer this time.
Before I could press play, he asked, “Was Raymond bothering you?”
“No.” Which wasn’t entirely true, but I didn’t want to badmouth Raymond in front of his housemate.
There was an awkward pause.
“Was he flirting with you?” Aaron finally asked.
My jaw dropped as I thought it over. It hadn’t even occurred to me.
Aaron was watching me, waiting for an answer.
I took a handful of popcorn, my arm brushing against his as I did so. “I don’t think so, but if he was, then he was really, really bad at it.”
Aaron snorted, and we resumed watching the show.
We watched two episodes and then decided that was enough for one night. Aaron stood and stretched slowly, his arms wide to the side. He had an impressive wingspan.
Then he rolled his shoulders and smiled slightly. "Can I walk you to your room?” He laughed a little, showing that he knew it was ridiculous. My room was just one flight of stairs away, and just down the hall from his.
Still, I felt a little awkward—which was generally the case when I was around handsome men. “I need something from the kitchen. But this was fun. When do we watch episode three?”
“Whenever you’d like. Except Wednesday evenings. Student council meets then.”
I stared at him in surprise. “Student council? Like in high school?”
“We have much more power than high school councils.” He leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. “We’re allowed to print out flyers and post them all over campus.”
“With great power comes great responsibility,” I said, and Aaron grinned. “So, is this the first step toward becoming mayor?”
His cheeks flushed just a little, which was adorable. “Yes, but I’m so far from the finish line, I can’t even see it from here.”
“It’s that way.” I pointed confidently out the living room windows.
“I think that’s south.” He frowned, brows knit in thought.
Oops. “Which way is northwest?” I’d never been to Chattanooga, but I knew where it was. More or less.
He spun around like the needle of a compass. “Maybe that way?” He waved vaguely toward the kitchen.
I giggled, covering my mouth with the back of my hand. “We’d be terrible contestants on American Adventures .”
“We’d be even more lost than the blue team,” he agreed. “Good night, Mia.”
“Good night, Aaron.” At the last minute, I remembered my ruse about needing something from the kitchen. I waited there until I heard him jog upstairs. The hallway was empty when I went back to my room.
It was only ten, so I figured I could still get in an hour or two of studying.
I looked at the small desk in my room and decided to take my stuff down to the dining room, which had been converted back to a study hall again after Tuesday’s group dinner.
Evan was there at the far end of the table, his fingers flying over the keyboard, posture relaxed but focused.
He gave me a friendly wave and a quick greeting.
I sat on the opposite side, avoiding some dirty dishes that somebody had left out.
Except for Tuesday, people fended for themselves for dinner, and sometimes they ate out here, sometimes in the living room.
Or sometimes dashing out the door, late for class.
I worked on my assignment for about half an hour, but that was about the limit of how much I could focus without taking a break.
Deciding to be a good roommate, I gathered up the dirty dishes and took them to the kitchen, putting some in the dishwasher and leaving the dirtier ones to soak in the sink.
The popcorn had left me thirsty, and I went to the fridge to get something to drink. Then I heard the sound of the back door swinging open. Maybe Jenna had decided to stay here tonight after all?
I still wanted to meet her boyfriend. She seemed crazy about the guy. But it wasn't Jenna.
It was Diego. Holy shit, it was Diego. He'd obviously just been for a run because he was rubbing a white towel across his face and hadn't even noticed me.
But I sure as hell noticed him. He was shirtless, his skin tan and taut over sculpted muscles, including a six-pack of abs. His body looked like it belonged in a fitness magazine.
Was he training for something? He had on dark blue shorts that showcased his powerful thighs. Good god, I had no idea he had a body like that.
This was the man I’d been grinding against at the party. Who’d kissed me so damn well I’d never wanted to come up for air. Come to think of it, I hadn’t taken a breath since first seeing those abs. I inhaled quietly, trying and failing to look elsewhere.
Diego shut the door behind him, moving the towel to his side and then halting when he saw me.
Things got awkward.
He was half naked, and I was staring at him, probably with my eyes bugging out of my head.
“Hey, Mia.”
“Hi.”
“I, uh, went for a run.”
“I can see that.” Why’d I have to stare at his chest when I said that?
“I’m a night owl.”
He walked over to the fridge, and I rapidly backed up. Guys that looked that good coming right toward me—that was a new sensation.
He plucked a water bottle out and drained half of it.
“Do you run?”
Running seemed like a very good idea to get me away from this cringe-worthy moment. “No. Sometimes on the treadmill, I guess. Or if I’m about to miss the bus.”
He smiled. “Not much danger of that in Haverford.”
I had to agree. People around here were too rich to take the bus. As far as I knew, the town didn’t even have any public transportation.
Diego leaned back against the counter, and I started overthinking things again. Maybe he was feeling just as weirded out by this as I was but was trying to make it seem normal by not dashing out of the kitchen. Which was exactly what I was trying to do. Or maybe I was the only one.
Diego’s dark eyes were on me. “So how’s it going so far?”
“With classes?”
“With living here.”
Oh, that made more sense, especially since I’d already been in my classes for almost two months.
“It’s good. I really liked the meal you made the other day.
” That much was true, and far less embarrassing than the other things that threatened to tumble out of my mouth.
Like: next time we both get drunk at a party, can you take your shirt off?
The smile he gave me was genuine. “Happy to teach you to cook any of those dishes.”
I grimaced. “Can you teach me in time for Tuesday?”
He laughed. “Honestly, we’re not expecting Michelin-starred food.”
Well, that was good, because I didn’t even know what that meant.
“Whatever you make will be fine. And you gave Cody a week’s reprieve, which I’m sure he’s grateful for.”
That was why I’d done it. It wasn’t like I thought women should cook and men didn’t need to.
Diego cooked better than I ever would. There had been something about Cody’s face, his eyes, that made me think he wasn’t just trying to shirk responsibility.
He had almost a panicked look. Or maybe that wasn’t it.
But whatever I’d read on his face had compelled me to help him.
“I should get back to my homework.” I pointed in the direction of the dining room.
Before I got two steps, I heard my name.
“Mia.”
I turned, eyes deliberately trained on his face instead of his abs, but I really didn’t need to. They were burned into my memory and would probably surface a hundred times when I was in class tomorrow.
“If you need to talk about anything, I’m here for you.” He suddenly glanced down at himself and then grinned. “Although usually I’ll be wearing more clothes.”
I nodded, trying to act like I wasn’t completely tongue-tied.
“But seriously, I’m here to help all of you. You can talk to me about anything.”
Wanna bet? The memory of him sinking his fist into my hair, tilting my head back, and kissing my throat surfaced. He thought I could talk to him about anything, but that sure as hell wasn’t true.
“I’m good, thanks,” I stammered.
Then I took off, leaving my drink in the kitchen. I wasn’t thirsty anymore. At least not for a drink.