Spinning Out(The Blackhawk Boy #1)(21)

"Didn't work out," I say quickly.

"I bet he let his mom talk him out of it," Keegan guesses with a nod. "What a fucker."

Arrow looks away, pretending to watch the guy who's setting up the  karaoke machine at the front of the bar, but I know he agrees with  Keegan. Brogan didn't come out and say his mom told him he had to change  our plans. He said he was worried he'd be too busy with wedding and  family stuff.

"It's a family thing," I say, dismissing Keegan's concerns with a wave of my hand. "And anyway, I'm working tomorrow."

Chris frowns at me.

"And on that note," Bailey says, "let's drink."





Mia looks so fucking beautiful tonight I almost swallowed my tongue when  I saw her. Her hair is down, and she's wearing this black shirt that's  fitted at her waist and hangs loose around her neck. When she shifts  forward, the shirt moves with her, exposing the soft swell of the tops  of her breasts. The sight literally makes my mouth water, and I have to  swallow hard and remind myself she's not mine.

She's never been mine.

I'm so pissed at Brogan, I almost didn't come tonight. I read him the  riot act when he told me he canceled plans with Mia because his mom  didn't like the idea of Mia coming to a family wedding. He said I was  overreacting. Making more out of it than there was. The idiot's in  denial. His mom doesn't like Mia-which is absurd-and Brogan wants to  pretend that it's not about Mia, that she wouldn't like the idea of him  getting a hotel room alone with any girlfriend.

"Karaoke?" Trent groans, eyeing the guys setting up speakers at the front. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Trish says. "A little lame, isn't it?"

Bailey rolls her eyes. "Not as lame as you."

The girls stare each other down for a minute, then Trish huffs.  "Whatever. I'd just rather be dancing. Wouldn't you guys?" She glances  around the table and is met with a chorus of "Not really," "Not a  dancer," and "Nope."

I keep my mouth shut, but I'm with them. I'm not one for singing  karaoke, but I don't mind it, either. The music is never as loud as the  bars with the live bands, so we can still talk, and I'm not much of a  dancer.

"I like karaoke," Keegan says. "Hot girls drink too much and then  proceed to do something that makes them insecure. And that's when I step  in."

"You're disgusting," Bailey says.

"Are you going to sing?" he asks her.

"Fuck yes," Bailey says. "And if y'all are lucky, so will Mia."

She tenses next to me then gives her friend a stern scowl. "Probably not, Bail."

A waiter sidles up to the table with a tray full of shot glasses filled  with amber liquid. He winks at Bailey and slides the tray onto the  table. "I have specific instructions to keep these coming."

"That's right, you do," Bailey purrs. She shoots the first back even as  she slides another across the table to Mia, who grins at her friend the  way one might at a wild-mannered toddler.

Her phone buzzes in her purse between us, and when she pulls it out to look at the display, her face changes.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

She grimaces as she swipes the screen to accept the call. "I need to take this."

I climb out of the booth so she can go, and watch her rush to the door, phone pressed to her ear.

Bailey comes to stand beside me. "Shit. That's probably her mom doing  her obligatory happy birthday call. If she really cared, she'd leave Mia  alone."

"Should we go talk to her?" I ask. "Make sure she's okay?"

Bailey's frown covers her whole face, and for someone who never takes  herself seriously, she looks formidable. "First Brogan, and now this.  Fucking shit birthday if you ask me."                       
       
           



       

"So what do we do?" I ask. On the other side of the glass entrance, Mia  has a hand tunneled into her hair, her face tilted to the sky, her eyes  closed.

I want to give her the kind of birthday that makes her feel special and  loved. The kind that makes her look forward to the next year and makes  her grateful for the friends she's made in the last.

Now Bailey has turned her frown on me. "You can't fix it, Arrow. Girls  like Mia don't need to be fixed. They need someone who can accept them  and their fucked-up lives. Just be her friend. That's what she needs  tonight." She points to the booth. "So sit back down."

I'm not sure what that speech is supposed to mean, but I nod and take my  seat. The guys have started arguing about next week's game against  Allegiance, but I can't think football when my head is full of Mia.

Bailey said to be her friend, and that's what I've done for nearly a  year. Friendship means I get to make her smile. It means I get to crack  jokes that I know will make her giggle, or send her texts wishing her  luck on the exam she studied for all weekend. It means I get to sit next  to her at a bar and never lean over to whisper just how beautiful she  looks. It means I get to ignore the pull I feel toward her that's so  relentless I don't know how she doesn't feel it, too. It means I get to  put her happiness-Brogan's happiness-over my own selfish needs.

I stare at my phone, scrolling through Instagram and pretending to be busy so I don't have to chime in.

Less than two minutes later, Mia slides into the booth next to me, a  smile plastered on her face as she reaches for not one but two shots  from the tray.

"Whoa." I put my hand on top of the second as she tosses the first one back. "Slow down, sailor."

"It's my birthday," she says, yanking the shot out from beneath my hand. "I don't have to slow down."

"That's what I'm talking about." Keegan slaps his palm against the table. "How about another round?"

Bailey presses her open hand to Keegan's face, pushing him back in the booth. "What did she say?" she asks Mia.

Mia rolls her shoulders and tilts her head from side to side like a  boxer getting ready to enter the ring. "My mother said happy birthday.  And that-get this-she'd like me to come down to visit so I can meet my  new stepdad."

"Your what?" Bailey's lip curls in disgust. "She got married and didn't even tell you?"

Mia nods, and the bravado falls from her face. "At least she's happy, though, right?"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Bailey says. "And to think I spent my childhood idolizing that bitch."

"That would make two of us," Mia mutters. She ducks her head and avoids all the curious eyes at the table.

"Talk!" Bailey says, scowling at us. "About anything but negligent mothers and pussy boyfriends."

"Bailey!" Mia says, glaring at her best friend.

Bailey shrugs. "Calling it like I see it tonight. Sorry, Mee."

Mason jumps in. "Okay. Who can tell me the dirtiest joke they know?"  That does the job, and the guys go around the table exchanging raunchy  jokes while Mia composes herself. I know that's what she's doing. I can  practically hear her counting out her measured breaths, and she relaxes  little by little. The tequila probably doesn't hurt, either.

I don't know what to say. When my mother died, I felt as if I was being  ripped in two, but she didn't have a choice. Mia's mom did, and she left  anyway. Maybe it wouldn't have sucked so much if she hadn't been a  great mother, but I know from the few stories Mia's shared that the  woman was the kind of mother daughters adored. The kind they clung to.

Mia cuts her eyes to me and whispers, "You're staring."

Of course I am. She's fucking beautiful. Not looking at Mia when she's  right next to me is like not stepping into the sun after a month of  rain. "You want to get out of here?"

She holds my gaze for so long, I expect her to say yes. Instead, she  shakes her head and slides out of the booth. "I want to sing."

Bailey snaps her attention away from Keegan's ridiculously raunchy joke and hops up to stand next to Mia. "Fuck yeah, you do!"

Mia snakes her arm through Bailey's and the two make their way to the  little stage, and a minute later, the guys at the karaoke station cue up  a song. Mia looks happily buzzed as she takes the microphone and begins  filling in the vocals to the beat. The screen shows a picture of Adele  and the lyrics run across it, but Mia doesn't look at the screen. She  simply holds the microphone and uses her voice to show her heartache to  every person in the bar.                       
       
           



       

"Holy shit," Mason says. "Girl's got lungs."

She has more than lungs. She has serious talent. As she sings "Rolling  in the Deep," I'm captivated. She sings like no one else is in the room,  holding nothing back as she nails every note, using her whole body as  she comes to the climax of the song and belts out the chorus.