Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“Trust me,” Mia says, sounding like she’s trying not to lose her dinner. “Grams told me all about it.”
Paisley cocks her head. “Wait. You… taped Bingo? Like a TV show?”
“From a cruise. My niece brings me the tapes from the cruise she works on. I just get my own card and play along. No need to change out of my jammies that way.”
“Wow,” Mia says. “That's… an interesting strategy.”
Edgar salutes, then shuffles past me. “Night, Colon,” he says, looking straight at me.
“Col–” I start, trying to replay his words.
The bell jingles and Edgar heads out into the cold night.
Paisley is covering a smile. “Did he just call you Colon, Mr. Saulters? Is that like a nickname you haven’t told us about?”
“Definitely not…” I say, unable to stop myself from grinning, though.
“Okay, well, night!” Paisley says. “Don’t forget to text me if you’re coming, Mia. We’ll save you a spot at the bar.”
“Okay,” Mia says, waving.
Zander shoots me a quick look on his way out with Paisley and Edgar. I give him a nod. I still kind of want to punch him, but it’s a little easier to resist the temptation than usual, at least.
When the door finally closes again, it’s just me and Mia.
“You wanted to talk?” she asks. Her hair is a little sweaty over her forehead and the bridge of her nose is shiny from a long night in front of hot pans and ovens. She’s wearing simple white pants and a black shirt beneath her chef’s coat, which is unbuttoned and hanging loose.
“Yeah… I recognize I’m being difficult,” I say.
One of her eyebrows lifts. “Go on…”
“And I told Zander I’d try to stop wanting to punch him in the face as often, so…”
She scrunches up her nose, tilting her head. “Is that how guys make truces? I’ll try to stop wanting to hit you so badly?’”
“It was all I could manage. For now.”
She chews the inside of her lip. “Okay. Well, that’s great for you two.”
I clench my jaw. Can’t she understand what I’m trying to say here? Why is she making this so damn hard? “I could go to that bar with you.”
The way her expression hardens tells me that wasn’t the right thing to say. “I bet you’d love that. You could loom right behind me all night and make sure no guys even think about talking to me.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I say.
“Nolan,” she says, voice clipped. “I’m not interested in being a dusty trophy on your shelf. I never was, okay? I’m not sure I’m interested in being anything of yours, honestly. But I’m certainly not going to be some afterthought you mark as yours just because you can’t stand the idea of other people wanting me.”
“Mia,” I say. The words aren’t coming clearly to me. All I can really think to do is shake my head. “I don’t want a fucking trophy. I want–” I trail off.
She leans closer, eyebrows raised expectantly. After a few seconds without another word from me, she lets out a huffing breath and laughs. “You don’t know what you want, Nolan. But I do, okay? And I don’t need you to get it.”
Her words hit me like several punches in the gut. I decide I’ve lost the conversation for tonight. Maybe it’s because deep down, I know she’s completely right.
“That guy from earlier with the blonde hair. Your ex…” I say. “He’s going to leave you alone, right?”
For a second, I think she’s just going to walk past me and ignore my question. But she finally folds her arms and nods. “He’s harmless. We dated long distance… after you left.”
Another painful jab of jealousy runs through me, but I don’t let it show. “Okay,” I say. “He seemed pretty pissed. Any idea what he wanted?”
“No,” she says. “And I don’t plan to find out. I also don’t need you getting involved any more than you already have. Have a nice night, Nolan.” Her dismissive tone stings more than if she’d been mad. It’s like she has completely given up on the idea of anything happening between us.
And why shouldn’t she?
I nod my head. “Alright.”
“Any more questions?” she asks. It’s clear from the way she speaks that I’m definitely not supposed to ask any more questions.
“Are you going to that bar?” I ask, even though I try not to.
She shakes her head at me and walks past without another word.
18
MIA
Iwalk fast, breath huffing in front of me. I decide to text Caroline and Andi as I walk. I know Andi can’t drink, but she always loves to be included when anything fun is happening. And I’m going to have fun. Right?
I hug my arms to myself, picking my footing carefully because there’s shoveled snow and little patches of ice all over the sidewalk.
Frosty Harbor is alive tonight with couples walking and groups of friends moving up and down the sidewalks and crossing the mostly empty roads. The shopfronts are lit from inside, making them all seem extra warm and inviting. I pause before I pull open the door to O’Malley’s bar. I know of the place, even if I haven’t been inside since sneaking in with a few friends when I was nineteen. We were promptly caught, escorted out, and told to come back in a few years. The joys of living in a small town when every adult knows your fake ID is bullshit.