Spinning Out(The Blackhawk Boy #1)(22)

I don't look away once. I'm not sure I breathe. And when it's over,  everyone applauds. She grins at Bailey and hands off the microphone as  if she was just playing around and not ripping out her own heart. But I  know. This is it. Her thing. Mia sings.

Bailey picks a lighter pop song, and Mia stays by the stage while she sings.

"I didn't think it was possible," Keegan says, eyes on the stage, "but Mia Mendez just got hotter."

"Dude," Mason says.

"What?"

"You don't say that shit about your friend's girl." Mason shakes his head. "There's a code."

Chris makes Mason move out of his way so he can get out of the booth,  then he comes around to my side and takes Mia's spot. I have to bite my  tongue to keep myself from telling him to move. There's no reason I  should insist on Mia sitting next to me. Like Mason said. There's a  code.

I'm able to successfully move my attention back to my friends while  Bailey takes her turn, but when Mia takes the mic again, it's as if they  all disappear.

"Do yourself a favor," Chris says under his breath, "and stop staring.  You're only torturing yourself and giving these assholes ideas."

I tear my gaze off Mia. "What?"

Chris raises a brow, but doesn't say anything else. In fact, he doesn't  bring it up again for the rest of the night. Mia and Bailey come back to  the table between songs only to return to the stage. Sometimes they  sing solo; sometimes they sing duets. Some other girls take a turn every  couple of songs, but mostly, it's the Mia and Bailey show.

When Mia's on stage, Chris asks me questions about our game this  Saturday or about our next physiology test. He doesn't bring up Mia  again or warn me about the way I look at her, but I know his every  effort to take my attention from the stage is a favor.

I'm just not sure it's a favor I want.





Arrow: I can't stop thinking about what you did at the Cavern tonight. I had no idea.



My stomach flips when I get the text from Arrow. It's not like I hide my  singing from my friends. It's a hobby. Something I love and do for fun.  But I'd never done it in front of Arrow before, and I should have known  he'd see right through me. He'd know it meant more to me than just some  silly thing I do with my friends.



Me: I was drinking. It was a mistake.



Arrow: Was it? It didn't feel like a mistake.



Me: We're not talking about this again.



Arrow: Okay, but I'm at your door. Come open it so I can give you something.



I frown at the clock. It's after eleven. When the last of my tequila  buzz left me, I pleaded fatigue, and Mason offered to drive me home.  Bailey came too, and the two of them locked themselves in her room a few  minutes after we got here.

I put down my phone and go to the door to check the peephole. Sure  enough, Arrow's on the other side a few steps back from the door, head  bowed, hands tucked into his pockets.

I release the chain from the lock and open the door. "What's going on?"

Bailey and I moved into this apartment at the beginning of the semester,  and as far as I know, Arrow hasn't ever been here before. It's odd  enough for him to text me-he's had my number since we were planning a  surprise for Brogan's last birthday, but he rarely uses it-but to call  his showing up in the middle of the night a surprise is an  understatement.

He swallows hard and shrugs. "I forgot to give you your birthday  present." He leans over and picks up a gift bag I didn't notice before.

"You didn't have to do that."

"You're right," he says. "I didn't have to. But I wanted to." He extends the bag.

"Thank you." I exhale slowly. This is awkward, and it shouldn't be. The  only reason it would feel awkward to have a friend visit me in the  middle of the night is if he were more than a friend. And he's not. He's  my boyfriend's best friend.

At least, that's all he's been to me for months. Then tonight, he leaned  over and whispered in my ear, asking if I wanted to leave, and all  those old feelings came back full force, like a train racing into the  station without brakes.

"Do you want to come in?" I ask, pulling the door open farther.                       
       
           



       

He holds my gaze for a long beat before shaking his head. "I don't think that would be a good idea, Mia."

My stomach squeezes and then flips. What's that supposed to mean? Is it a  bad idea because people would get the wrong idea about us? Or is it a  bad idea because he felt it tonight, too-that connection that sparked to  life the first day we met and seems to sit there, waiting like two  potent chemicals that are safe alone but explosive when mixed? I could  ask, but there's no answer that would be okay, so I pick up the bag and  nod.

"But how about a walk?" he blurts out. "It's a beautiful night."

"Um." I shrug and set the gift bag just inside the door. "Sure. Why not? Let me grab my phone."

I slip my phone into my pocket in case Brogan calls and then follow  Arrow out to the street. The night air cools my burning cheeks. Bailey  and I got an apartment close to campus, so it's a nice area with  well-lit sidewalks, but tonight the streetlamps are aided by the moon  and the stars that shine so brightly above us they seem closer than  usual.

"You have the most beautiful voice I've ever heard." The words are so  soft-such a scratchy rasp of low sound-that I might mistake them for the  breeze rustling through the drying autumn leaves. But he's looking at  me and watching my reaction, so I can't pretend I didn't hear.

I can't pretend I don't care that he thinks I'm good. "Thank you."

"You love it. I could see it. You came to life on that stage."

Stop saying sweet things. "You make it sound like I normally walk around half dead."

"Or maybe you walk around pretending that part of you isn't important when it's not just important-it's everything."

"It's a hobby."

"It's a gift."

He hasn't looked at me with this much intensity since the day we met,  and I simultaneously want to soak up every bit of his attention and beg  him to stop. But tonight I'm tired and a little weak, so I walk along  beside him, enjoying his attention and letting the silence stretch out  between us.

"I'm sorry you had a crappy birthday," he says, as we turn the corner.

"It wasn't that bad. I was being a little dramatic earlier. I'm fine now."

"Your mom left you and married a guy she didn't even tell you about. I  don't think it's dramatic to be upset about that. And Brogan . . ."

"What about Brogan?"

"Does he make you happy?"

He makes me feel safe. He makes me smile. "That question again?"

"Yeah. I guess so." He drops his gaze to the sidewalk and watches our  steps until we reach the end of the block. When we reach the crosswalk,  we both stop, as if we need a minute to decide if we're going to go any  farther. He watches me, ready to follow my lead.





I've never felt as exposed as I do in this moment, waiting for the girl I  want to tell me she's happily in love with my best friend. It's not a  question I have any right to ask. Brogan might be a pushover when it  comes to his mother, but he's a good guy, and all signs indicate that he  makes Mia happy.

But I need to hear it from her.

She steps off the sidewalk and into the row of trees. After toeing off  her shoes one at a time, she sinks her bare feet into the grass growing  beneath the locust tree.

When I came to her apartment, I was going to give her the gift and  leave. When I declined her invitation to come inside, she looked  baffled, and I was so afraid I'd hurt her, I blurted out that we should  go on a walk. I imagine what Chris would say if he knew I'd invited her  out here and dared to ask about the state of her and Brogan's  relationship. He probably wouldn't say anything. He'd just give me that  look that speaks more disappointment than any words can.

"You don't have to answer," I say. "I know you don't like that question,  and anyway, it's none of my business." You wanted him and not me. You  chose him, and I don't get to make you happy even if he's failing.

Sighing, she leans against the locust and steadies her gaze on her bare  feet in the grass. "When I was a little girl, my mom would tell me  stories about the way Dad swept her off her feet. It was as if they met  and fell in love in an instant. She was eighteen and in Chicago visiting  some cousins, and one night, Dad showed up at a party. She said the way  he looked at her lit her soul on fire. They married less than a month  later, despite the objections of my grandmother. She was already  pregnant with Nicholas."

Set her soul on fire. I take a breath, fighting to regain the wind I  just got knocked out of me. Fuck, that hurts. I don't want him to be the  one who sets her soul on fire. "That's how you feel about Brogan."