"We should head back." I slurped the last of my soda and lobbed it in the trash.
"Guess so." But she didn't move and I couldn't blame her.
It had been fun playing hooky for a few hours, like we didn't have a care in the world. When we both knew better.
"I'm going to talk to my dad," she said, so softly I had to lean closer to hear her. "Tell him about us."
"No." I leapt to my feet and tugged my hand free from her grip. "Are you insane?"
An elderly couple strolling nearby shot me a disapproving glare and I lowered my voice. "I'll be out on my arse as soon as he hears my name associated with yours."
I paced a few steps before turning back, dread curdling the orange soft drink in my gut. "Don't you get it? I'm on my last chance. Screw this up and I'm dead."
"Don't be so melodramatic." She stood and squared her shoulders, way too calm while I was freaking out. "We'll sort this out."
I shook my head. "No way. There's nothing to sort." I gestured between us. "You and me? We're nothing."
The moment the words slipped out I wished I could take them back. She looked stricken, like I'd slapped her.
I tried again. "What I mean is—"
"Didn't know you were a liar as well as a dipshit," she said, blinking rapidly.
Ah fuck, I'd made her cry too.
"What I meant to say was, we can't be anything to each other no matter how much we may want it." That sounded so lame.
She stopped blinking and pinned me with a wide-eyed stare that made me want to cuddle her all night long. "Does that mean you want it?"
"No … yes … fuck," I muttered, increasingly out of my depth.
I knew what I wanted. I just couldn't have her at the risk of my career and disappointing my dad yet again. He was a good guy. Who'd taken a chance on a loser like me. I owed him and this time, I'd pay up.
"I get it." She sounded so solemn and I wished we could revert to the happy, laughing couple we'd been an hour ago, cramming fairy floss and hot dogs into our mouths, joking around, carefree. "You're a chicken-shit as well as a liar."
There was nothing remotely funny about this situation but I found myself smiling anyway. Mia was a hell of a woman. Smart and funny and willing to fight for us.
She was right. I was a chicken-shit. But there were some things in life that couldn't be messed with and my future at the Cresswell Academy was one of them.
I had to make her understand and to do that, I'd need to give her a snippet of the truth.
"Was your dad around when you aced your first test? Your first ballet recital? Your graduation?"
She nodded, eyeing me with wariness.
"My dad wasn't. He didn't know I existed." I held out my hands, palms up, nothing to hide. "When Mum died and he turned up, I was resentful. He should've known about me. He should've been there for me."
I fist-pumped my chest. "But it wasn't his fault that Mum kept me a secret. And when it counted, he stepped up."
Inhaling a deep breath, I blew it out, buying time, hoping I could articulate half of what I was feeling without sounding like a dickhead. "He owed me nothing. But my dad made an effort to get to know me. He pulled strings for me. And even when I fucked up real bad, he still believed in me."
I hesitated, hating that a lump had welled in my throat. "Me, the loser kid who lived over a strip club his whole life, who hung out with pimps. He didn't care about any of that or how it could damage his reputation. He committed to me."
The burning in the back of my throat intensified but I'd be damned if I made a sissy of myself in front of a girl whose opinion mattered more than it should. "So think about all those times your dad was around for you, when he looked at you with pride."
I pressed my palms to my chest. "That's what I want. For my dad to look at me like he's proud of me. That I'm more than some screw-up he wished he still didn't know about."
A tear trickled down Mia's cheek, followed by another, and I bundled her into my arms before we were both bawling.
"Do you get it now?" I murmured into her hair, burying my nose in the soft fruity fragrance, imprinting it on my memory.
She didn't move for an eternity before I felt a gentle nod against my chest.
Good. I'd made her understand.
But at what cost?
Chapter 14
MIA
Many people were intimidated by the great Dirk Cresswell.
Not me. My dad was a pushover if I played him right. Not that I deliberately set out to fool him but like any daughter knows, make the big eyes, make the lower lip wobble just a tad and throw in a healthy dose of admiration in that wide-eyed stare, and most dads would do anything for their little girls.