Mia lies down next to me. “So we can keep going with this?” Mia asks me quietly.
I turn my head to look at her profile. The soft, smooth skin of her cheek, the slope of her nose. The electric blue of her eyes. I’m not ready to let go. “Yes.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Mia
I couldn’t pull togetherthe whole confident hot girl Mia thing to actually speak up for myself.
I couldn’t do it after seeing those photos. Some videos. All similar to mine. The ones of me.
Each one was slap in the face. Blondes, mostly, all hot as fuck, in various states of undress in Elias’s photo album. I couldn’t bring myself to check if there were any videos of him actively fucking someone else, like with mine, but I’m sure they were there.
He said I could look at the dates on the photos, but I believe him. Plus, I don’t want to take a closer look, fuck. I know that he wouldn’t have saved any of those after we started doing… whatever we were doing—he’s not that kind of person.
It was still a pretty harsh reality check. A reminder of who he is, or was, and who I am.You thought you were special, but you aren’t at all, a dark voice says.You’re just another blonde on his phone.
But that’s not your Elias,I remind myself. You love him despite all of that. He’s not like that anymore.
It still stung like a bitch though, when he didn’t push back after I reminded him about the lessons. Or when I told him I knew he wouldn’t be able to do this for much longer. Or when I told him to let me know when he’s ready to end this.
There was no “no way Mia, I love you and I’m ready to start this,” like I wished for like a pathetic little girl with a crush.
I’m in my room, sitting on my bed, papers and projects all around me. A typical Mia Sunday. My phone rings next to me. I look at the caller ID. Andrea. Damn, I haven’t spoken to her in a while. I immediately feel bad, realizing that I’ve spent every waking moment with Elias for the last several weeks.
“Hey, girl,” I answer brightly.
“Hey, bitch. How’s it going?”
“It’s okay. I’m really sorry I’ve been so M.I.A. recently.”
She hums. “Seriously. What’s going on? You wanna go out this week? We kind of failed what we wanted to do that time we hung out with the bachelorette party.”
I get nauseous just thinking about that hangover the next day. “Girl, I don’t know if I have another school night in me.”
She barks a laugh. “True. I was dying. The day after was a movie day for my kiddos,” she snickers. “How about over the weekend?”
“Absolutely. I’d love to see you. Ineedto see you,” I add, determined not to have my entire life consumed by Elias.
“Amazing. Let’s get wasted. But one request.”
“What?”
“Can we not do Brooklyn this time?”
“Why not? Manhattan is so far,” I whine.
“Too many fuckboys in Brooklyn who will make you come fourteen times but are emotionally unavailable. We should stick to Manhattan, so we find guys with real jobs who live alone and don’t have roommates. We’re getting too old for that shit.”
I happen to love one of those fuckboys, thank you very much. “Ugh, Andrea. I’ll go out with you, but I’m not really on the hunt right now.”
“Why not? What happened? Are you seeing someone?”
“Yeah… well… no. Kinda?” I attempt to fake my newfound confidence because it is running a little low after seeing all the fucking women on Elias’s phone. “It’s fine,” I try again. “It’s not serious. Well… he’s not very serious.” I cringe, totally botching this.
“So he’s one of those fuckboys,” she says, cracking up.
“I mean… yes… well… no? It’s fine,” I ramble. “I’m just trying to keep it casual for now.”But that’s not what you want!my brain is yelling.
