Age 22
September
The sun is barely upwhen I walk into the kitchen, desperate for coffee. I find Mia sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar, poring over a notebook, a steaming mug of something perched in front of her.
I move closer and stop, drawing her attention to me. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” She barely glances up before going back to her notes.
Fuck. The reaction stings, but I deserve it. It’s been six days since our kiss at the Cove, and we still haven’t talked. She stayed at Chiara’s all weekend, only coming home after classes on Monday, and since then, I’ve been busting my ass at work so I can get Clay’s car done by Friday.
“I was thinking?—”
“There’s fresh coffee if you want some.”
“Yeah, thanks.” I fill a mug and heave myself onto the stool beside hers. “How are you?”
She looks up. “I have a calculus test today, and considering it’s my least favorite subject, I’m nervous.”
“I’m sure you’ll do great.”
She rolls her eyes. “Right. Because you knowso muchabout me.”
I lower my mug to the table and dip my chin. “I deserve that.”
She doesn’t say anything in return; she just keeps studying. She isn’t running away, so I might as well use this moment alone to my advantage.
“I haven’t been avoiding you.”
No reaction.
“I’ve been working overtime on a project for a friend. Remember the guy I was talking to when you stopped by the shop on Friday?”
“Do you mean Clay Rodgers?” She peers at me.
I sit back and assess her. “You know who he is?”
“Of course. I used to watch hockey with my dad.”
“I didn’t know you were into sports.”
She closes her notebook and rests her hands on top of it, fingers laced. “Pretty sure I once told you I love any game if it’s good. And hockey? Elite.”
“You’re something else.” I laugh. “What else don’t I know about you?”
Her lips curl up on one side, and I feel a desperate urge to kiss the smirk off her face. “Lots of stuff.”
Instead, I cup her cheek. “I want to get to know you.”
She pulls back. “Seriously? Because your actions contradict your words, Dom.”
I stand and sidle up close to her. When her eyes find mine, I stroke her cheek with my thumb, tilting her face up to me. Jesus, her skin feels like velvet under my callused hand, soft and warm. This close to her, my body heats, fire coursing through my veins.
“Are you and Remi together?” she whispers, pain swimming in the depths of her blue irises.
“No. She’s not my girlfriend, and I haven’t touched her since I broke up with her five months ago.”
She lets out a sardonic laugh. “That’s hard to believe, considering she spent the night in your room last week. She came out wearing your T-shirt.”
