May, eight months before the accident
I usually avoid off-campus parties. They're always more trouble, alcohol, and drama than they're worth, but my teammates ganged up on me, and I agreed to come to this one.
When I pull up, the street is lined with cars, and music pours from the house. The front porch is crowded with people drinking from red cups and smoking, and I decide I'm going to make an appearance and head back to the dorm. I can already tell this party is trouble.
I head in and spot Mia in the kitchen, and I pause. Trouble.
I'm slammed with that push-pull of want and guilt deep in my gut. I shouldn't even think of her as Mia. I should think of her as Brogan's girl. But she'll always be Mia to me. She'll always be more to me than I can admit to anyone.
God, she's beautiful. Her long, dark hair is down tonight, hanging in loose curls around her bare shoulders. Her black shirt fits snugly against her body, displaying her curves more blatantly than her typical choice of clothing.
She laughs, and Bailey hands her a shot glass. Mia shoots it back like an old pro.
Bailey throws her hands in the air. "Yes!" And promptly pours another.
What the fuck?
I head to the kitchen and wrap my hand around Mia's wrist before she can bring the second shot to her mouth. "Slow down, champ."
My eyes lock with Mia's, and time skids to a halt. The room grows silent around us-or seems to-because it's still there. At least, it is for me. She's been with Brogan for more than six months now, and I'm still jarred by an electric current every time we touch.
I'm horrible and despicable. I'm broken. I shouldn't be thinking about electric currents in the context of my best friend's girl.
"I thought you didn't drink," I say.
"What are you, Arrow? Her dad?"
I ignore Bailey's soft punch to my shoulder and keep my eyes on Mia. "What's up?"
Mia avoids my gaze and traces the rim of her shot. "I just want to let loose a little." The words come out with a tremble. Nerves? Something else?
Bailey's loud guffaw pulls my attention from Mia. Her grin stretches across her face. "She's trying to relax so she can rid herself of her V-card."
"Bailey," Mia says, her eyes going wide. Bailey throws her hand over her mouth, and Mia looks at me. "Ignore her. She's drunk."
Her V-card? "You're a virgin?" Oh, hell. Somewhere there's a list of questions you don't ask your best friend's girl when you secretly want her for yourself. That one's gotta be somewhere near the top. There's also a list of questions that you shouldn't care how your best friend's girl answers, and it's probably number one on that list, too.
Mia glares at Bailey. "Why do I tell you anything? Why?"
"She's a virgin," Bailey says. "For now."
And she plans to end that tonight? With Brogan? My stomach twists into knots but I manage to keep a straight face as I pull the shot glass from Mia's hand. "If that's the case, you probably shouldn't get trashed tonight."
"Where is Brogan, anyway?" Bailey says. "Didn't he say he was here when he texted you?"
"He had to leave," Keegan says, stumbling over to us. "His grandma's in the hospital."
Mia sets the shot glass on the counter and slips her hand into her purse to retrieve her phone. Her fingers tap quickly at the screen. "I had no idea. Crap."
Bailey frowns. "I guess this means you aren't going to give it up tonight. Bad timing, Grandma."
Mia frowns at her. "You are the actual worst, you know that?"
"Sorry. I suck at serious conversations. Tell Brogan I'm sorry or whatever it is I'm supposed to say." She bites her lip and cuts her gaze to me. "I'm really not a bitch, I swear. I'm just bad at life."
Mia's phone rings and she swipes the screen and puts it to her ear. "Where are you?" She nods, listening. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. I can get a ride and be there in . . . Oh. Okay . . . right. No, of course. Please don't worry about it. I understand . . . yeah. Okay. Well, call when you have a chance but don't worry about me . . . Okay. I love you." When she hangs up the phone, all the giddy energy that buzzed around her when I first walked over here is gone. "His grandma had a stroke. She's in the hospital."
"Are you going to go?" Bailey asks. "I bet Chris hasn't been drinking. He could probably drive you."
Mia shakes her head. "No, it's just family right now." She forces a smile. "I'll let you know when I hear something, but I think I'm going to go out back so I'm somewhere with less noise when he calls again."
"Okay," Bailey says.
Mia excuses herself, and I watch her push through the crowd and out to the backyard.
When she's gone, Bailey turns to me. "Brogan's mom is a fucking cunt."
"Bailey!"
"Don't Bailey me! I guarantee you she's the reason Mia's not welcome at the hospital. Family only. Mia is family, or should be, but that woman's determined to keep her out."
I stare at the doors to the back. "Are you going to go talk to her?"
"Nope. Because I'll call his bigoted whore of a mother a cunt, and that will only upset Mia." She smacks me on the back. "This is a job for you, I'm afraid."
I frown. "Why me?" But she's already gone, swallowed up into the mob as she makes her way to the crowd dancing on the other side of the room.
"Hey, Arrow," Trish says. She scans the room. "Have you seen Brogan?"
"He's not here, Trish." And he wouldn't want to be with you if he was. Not that I don't sympathize with her. Unrequited love is a bitch.
Shaking her off, I head toward the back, but I don't find Mia on the deck where half a dozen people are smoking and another dozen are making out.
I head down the steps and into the yard and finally spot her sitting behind the big oak tree by the back corner of the fence. I sink to the ground and take the seat beside her. "Hey."
She wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. "Hey. What's up?"
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Nope."
"Wanna talk about something else?"
"That would be amazing." She folds her legs under her and studies the grass, combing through it with her fingers.
I clear my throat. "Things must be pretty serious between you and Brogan, huh?" It's a stupid question and not the full change of subject I promised, but I can't stop thinking about her plans to give him her virginity tonight.
"Do you think I'm a hypocrite?"
"Why would I think that?"
"Because I was doing shots and hoping to hook up after a college party. Typical basic bitch, right?" She draws in a long breath. "But don't worry. I learned my lesson."
"I don't think you're a hypocrite," I say softly. "And you couldn't be basic if you tried."
"Maybe I am. I tell myself I'm not like those girls who go to parties, get trashed, and hook up." She laughs-if you can call it that. There's no humor in the sound. "And look at me tonight. That's exactly what I was trying to do. Big fat fail."
"Mia, I don't think sleeping with your boyfriend constitutes a hookup."
She tugs on a blade of grass, then another and another, making a little pile in front of her crossed legs. "I was going to do it for him. He . . . It's important to him."
"Not to you?"
She shrugs. "I'm Catholic, Arrow. I was raised to believe a girl should save herself for marriage, that the purpose of sex is procreation, so if you don't want a baby, you shouldn't do it."
"And do you still believe that?"
"No. I don't. But that doesn't mean I'm going to jump into bed with the first guy who shows any interest."
"Obviously not," I mutter.
She scoops up the tiny pile of grass and throws it at me. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Come on, Mia. If you wanted to lose your virginity, all you'd have to do is walk into that party and announce it. You'd have dozens of eager volunteers before you could finish the sentence."
She laughs again, but this time I hear her smile in it. "I'm being delusional if I think this thing with Brogan is going anywhere-his mom hates me so much she won't even invite me to Sunday dinner. And now she won't let me come to the hospital to comfort him when his grandmother might die."
"His mom is . . ." I swallow, feeling guilty about saying anything bad about the woman who often acted as my surrogate mother after Mom died. "She's not easy to win over, but when she gets to know you, she'll love you."