Spinning Out(The Blackhawk Boy #1)(11)

"If I had the right teacher, maybe."

We've stopped walking, and I lean against the side of the library. After  his text messages, I expected he'd be more forward with me. He seemed  like the type who'd crack jokes all the time, always working to get a  laugh. Instead, Arrow's reserved, and though it's obvious we're  attracted to each other, it's almost as if he's not sure what he wants  to do about it.                       
       
           



       

His gaze drifts to my mouth again and his lips part. He has a great  mouth. Full and firm. I'm not sure I've ever noticed a guy's lips  before. Or wondered, just minutes after meeting, how they would feel on  my skin.

"I want to get to know you," he says softly.

That simple line steals my breath. Not just the words. Any guy can say  the words. It's the look in his eyes, as if he really means it. It's the  crease in his brow, as if he's surprised to feel this way. It's that  he's looking at my mouth like he wants to kiss me, and he totally could,  but he's talking to me instead. "What do you want to know?" I ask.

His eyes lift to mine and burn into me. "What's the thing you want so  desperately that the idea of having it makes you as sick to your stomach  as the idea of never having it?"

I blink at him, because that's exactly how I feel about singing. I  haven't told anyone, not even Bailey, but I dream about singing my songs  on a big stage. I love it so much that the idea of someone giving me a  chance to do it for an audience makes my stomach tangle into tight,  painful knots.

But I'm not going to be a singer. It's not practical, and I can't afford  the requisite "starving artist" years. Instead, the second-best choice  will get all my energy. I'm going to be a lawyer. Guys like my brother  need someone who cares enough to defend them. They need someone who  understands that, while the law might be black and white, right and  wrong, the real world is not. Law school is expensive, and I'm lucky if I  can afford my car insurance, so that's going to be enough of a  struggle. Still, it's a dream that's within my grasp. And maybe one that  won't destroy me if I try and fail.

But when I think about never getting the chance to sing professionally, my stomach cramps.

Arrow grins.

"Why are you smiling?"

He gives a lopsided shrug. "Because you have a thing. It's all over your  face. You have something you want with all your heart and soul.  Something you want so much you're scared to have it."

"Doesn't everyone?"

He shakes his head. "No. Not everyone, Mia. Most people are happy just  to survive, to let the days pass. But you're like me. You want it and  you'd fight for it. Now I just want to know what it is." His gaze drops  to my mouth again and he doesn't step closer, but his body sways ever so  slightly in my direction, as if there's a magnet pulling us together.

I can't breathe. He's going to kiss me. I've been kissed before, lots of  times. But I've never wanted to be kissed as much as I want Arrow to  kiss me.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and shatters the fragile moment to bits. I'm ready to ignore it when Arrow steps away.

"You gonna check that?"

I fumble for my cell to read the text.



Bailey: Sorry about that. We're done.



When I look back to Arrow, he's turned away, his hands tucked into his pockets. "That was Bailey," I say. "We can go back."

He nods but remains withdrawn. Nice to meet you, Mr. Mixed Signals.

When we make it back to the dorm room, Bailey and Mason are in the  living area, snuggled together on the couch in some sort of post-coital  bonding that makes me reevaluate their relationship.

Bailey looks at me, then Arrow, then back to me, and wriggles her eyebrows. "And where have you two been?"

Arrow shrugs. "Someone told us about a place where we could go listen to  people having really loud, athletic sex. We had to check it out, since  that's our favorite way to relax."

"Isn't it everyone's?" I add.

Bailey doesn't even blush. She winks at Arrow, and for a second I'm so  jealous of her self-confidence, I'd become a thief if it meant I could  steal it.

The door to the other bedroom opens, and the guy who steps out does a double take when he sees me. "Mia?"

I frown. "Yes?"

Tousled blond hair and broad shoulders. He's cute. Handsome, even. If I  hadn't been staring at Arrow for the last half-hour, I might even go so  far as to call this guy sexy. He grins and shoves his hands into his  pockets. "God, you're even prettier up close."

Arrow stiffens, and his gaze bounces between me and the blond guy. "You know Brogan?" he asks me.

"I . . ." I'm not sure what's happening.

"We texted a little." Brogan flinches and turns to me, holding up his  hands dramatically. "No, we didn't. Forget I said that. That fool with  no game doesn't live here. I'm Brogan, and totally charming, and not at  all a creep."                       
       
           



       

Fool with no game. Oh, crap. Oh, no. I open my mouth to speak and have  to force the words out past a tangle of emotions. "I . . . I thought you  said you were Mason's roommate?" I say to Brogan.

Brogan gestures to the common space. "We're all roommates." He steps  toward me and smiles. Charming. He's so very charming. And so not Arrow.  "I'm glad you came. We were gonna grab some dinner. Wanna come?"

Disappointment crashes in around me. Brogan is sweet. Goodness radiates  off him. I liked him from his first text, and I like him now. But I  don't want him. How could I when every drop of want in my body has been  newly dedicated to Brogan's roommate, the sexy, mysterious Arrow, who  has a thing he wants so much it makes his stomach hurt?

"Let's go," Bailey says. "Come on, Mia, it'll be fun."

Brogan slides his arm through mine and looks at Arrow. "You wanna tag along, too? Call your girlfriend-we'll triple-date."





Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Mia's eyes widen and her face pales. She looks as if she's been blindsided. I know how she feels.

"I'm sorry," Mia says. "I can't go to dinner. I really need to do some homework."

Brogan's face falls. Dude can't hide his feelings for anything. "Another time?"

"Sure," Mia says. I've known her less than an hour, but even I can tell  her smile is forced. And that's my fault. I'm the one who screwed this  up. She grabs her backpack off the couch. "I'm gonna get going,  actually."

"You're too good," Bailey objects in a whine. "Everyone needs to play hooky once in a while."

Mia shakes her head. "What I need is to ace this test."

"Are you sure?" Bailey asks.

"Positive," Mia says. She nods at Brogan. "Nice to meet you." She  doesn't look at me as she says bye to the group and turns to the door.

When Mia's gone, Bailey's gaze locks on mine. I can't answer any of the questions she asks with her eyes.

Brogan drags his hands through his hair, frustration wiping the  ever-present smile from his face. Turning on his heel, he goes into his  bedroom and swings the door shut. I catch it before it latches, and  follow behind him.

He tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling. "Why do I suck with women?"

"You don't suck."

He opens his mouth to reply then snaps it shut again. It seems my best  friend is at a loss for words, which I think I've seen happen to him  once in my whole life. Brogan always has something to say. Always.

"You've got it bad, huh?" I ask. I want him to say no, that Mia's just a girl, but I know better.

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.