Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Everyone laughed.
Diego cleared his throat. “Unless anyone’s got room for dessert, which I didn’t actually make, I’d say this concludes Mia’s welcome dinner. I’m glad you all—”
“My what?” I gaped at him. “That’s why you made all this food?”
Aaron nudged me. “We toasted you in the beginning, remember?”
“Yeah but…” I honestly didn’t know what to say. This incredible feast had been in my honor? I’d lived in one foster home where no one had ever mentioned my birthday. Then there was another one where every holiday, the family’s biological kids would be showered with toys, and I’d get a card.
Not everywhere. I’d had a few decent celebrations, but nothing like this. Especially not from fellow students I barely knew. “Thank you.” My voice was quiet, but everyone heard.
“You’re welcome,” Diego said. He hesitated, and then said, “Whatever you’re feeling right now—people in this room have been through it, too. We get it.” Most of the others nodded.
“Thanks,” I repeated again, this time barely audible.
Aaron put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed briefly. “We’re glad you’ve finally joined us.”
“I am too.” That time, my voice was quiet, but steady.
Though I wasn’t on dish duty, I took my plate out to the kitchen. It would’ve felt very wrong not to. When I left, Diego called my name from the hallway.
I stopped, having to look up to meet his gaze. At the party when I’d been writhing on his lap, we’d been eye-to-eye. That memory made my face flush.
“I hope you know that I’m always available if you ever want to talk about anything.”
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”
He gave a little half smile. “Something tells me you don’t mean that. But just so you know, you can tell me anything.”
Wanna bet, Diego? For a moment, I tried to imagine what he’d say if I told him I was the girl he couldn’t keep his hands off of at that party.
7
MIA
“Wait, why is the blue team in St. Louis?” I asked.
“Because they misunderstood the clue. They’re supposed to be in St. Paul with the other teams,” Aaron said, his eyes glued to the screen.
I laughed. “And here you thought they were going to make it to the finish line.”
“Not at the rate they’re going.” He sighed.
It was Thursday night, and we were on the couch in the living room. Since there wasn’t a new episode of American Adventures until next week, we’d decided to start a prior season neither of us had seen.
It was fun. At my old foster home—the one I left after high school—everybody would do their own thing in the evenings: homework, watching stuff on their phones. Me included. But it was nice to watch a show with someone. To talk about what was happening and discuss why the hell the blue team was in St. Louis.
“Oh, I think they figured it out,” Aaron said.
I leaned forward, elbow propped on the couch arm, eyes squinting at the screen. “Yes, judging by the look of horror, I’d say you’re right.”
“That’s okay. I think they can get a train. Or they could go to the next stop and do an extra task as a penalty.”
“Have they ever done that before?”
“Yes, in season three.”
“This is getting good. Too bad we don’t have popcorn.”
Aaron slid to the edge of the sofa, poised to get up. “That’s easily fixable.”
“I was kidding. We don’t need popcorn.”
“Why not?”
I shrugged. “Do we have any?”
“Yes. I’ll go get it.”
“Okay. I’ll pause the episode.”
He stood and padded toward the kitchen, his footsteps quiet on the hardwood. My leg felt cold. He’d been sitting pretty close to me—close enough that our arms and legs had brushed against each other a couple of times.
It was nice. Nothing sexual or anything, just… nice. To be here with someone, talking with them, having them so close. I wasn’t used to that, and I was enjoying the evening.
Until another one of my roommates came in.
“Hey, Mia.”
Raymond breezed into the room and plopped down on the sofa next to me—just as close as Aaron had been, but not nearly as welcome. His cologne hit my nose a beat later, a little too strong and a little too… smug? Or maybe it was just his personality.
“Aaron was sitting there,” I lied. He’d actually been on the other side.
“Sorry,” Raymond said, though he didn’t sound it. He scooted over about eight inches, then leaned back like he owned the place. Yeah, because that was totally enough room for Aaron.
“What are you watching?”
I told him about the show, trying to make it sound as boring as possible so he wouldn’t stay.
Which maybe wasn’t fair of me. He was my housemate. A former foster kid like me. But something about him rubbed me the wrong way.
Turns out, he was just getting started.
He shifted, angling himself toward me and resting an arm along the back of the couch. “You know, you’d be prettier if you smiled.”