by Lexi Ryan
I follow her into the Cavern, a popular hangout for preppy college kids who fancy themselves craft-beer aficionados. She leads me to a big U-shaped booth in the back that’s already filled with the usual suspects—Chris, Mason, Trent, Keegan, and Trish, a girl who always seems to show up at these get-togethers, whether she’s invited or not. The only two missing are Brogan and Arrow. Brogan’s out of town with his family for a couple of nights, so I know he won’t be joining us.
I was supposed to go with him. Until his mom found out about our plans.
I shove the thought from my mind before it can latch on. It’s my birthday. I’m not going to turn tonight into a pity party.
“Hey, Mia.”
And there’s Arrow. The sound of his voice murmuring my name sends chills up my spine and makes the butterflies in my stomach do a little dance.
Pretty much, I hate myself.
I take my seat in the booth and Bailey positions herself on the side opposite me. When Arrow slides in beside me, I smile at him, as if sitting next to him here is no big deal, as if I haven’t spent the last year avoiding being this close to him.
“You could have sat by me, Arrow,” Trish says from the other side of the semicircle.
Snorting, Bailey cocks a brow at her. “And have you molest him under the table?”
Chris props his elbows on the table and leans forward. “Where’s Brogan?”
“His cousin’s getting married tomorrow,” I say. “But don’t worry. He’ll be back for the game on Saturday.”
“Right, the wedding,” Keegan says. “But I thought you were gonna go with him? Make a weekend of it or something?”
“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.
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.
