“And you walked home by yourself?” His tone hardened, and he glared at her. Jake crouched in front of her, hands on the arms of the chair. His eyes were level with hers; this close they were the color of Bombay Gin.
“You seemed kind of preoccupied,” Mia said stiffly.
Jake looked as if she’d slapped him. “Is that why you’re so upset?”
“What do you think?”
“I didn’t invite them, Mee,” he tried to explain. “They just showed up.”
“It’s fine Jake.” Mia breathed through her mouth and closed her eyes for two seconds. When she opened them again, he was watching her. “Don’t worry about it.” She smiled wanly. It didn’t do much to comfort him, but he didn’t press her further.
“Hangover huh?” He asked when he’d settled himself into the plastic chair across the table from her.
“I think so.” Mia said after a pause. “I really don’t feel the greatest.”
“You don’t look the greatest,” Jake said bluntly.
Mia laughed, a short bark, more surprise than amusement. “Thanks!” She kicked him under the table.
“Ouch,” he said, but he was grinning in satisfaction. He’d made her laugh, and knew better than anyone it was the key to making her forget his transgressions. “Still,” he said and leaned toward her, his brows creased with concern, “You shouldn’t feel this crappy with only three beers in you. Even on an empty stomach.” He added when she made to remind him of the fact.
“Yeah, I don’t know.” Mia leaned back against the hard plastic of her chair. She considered telling him about her more alarming symptoms but decided against it. She didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily. Mia felt guilty. Hadn’t she done just that by ignoring his calls all day? “I’m sorry.” She blurted, and her hand shot across the table finding his. Jake looked down at their hands in surprise and then back at her, a question on his lips. “I’m sorry for not telling you I was leaving last night. And not answering your calls. And hanging up on you.” Wow, she had behaved like such a child. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I’m sorry about my friends,” Jake said and adjusted their hands so he held hers in a tight grasp. “I should’ve told them to go.” The sincerity in his eyes made Mia flood with warmth. He meant it.
“No, it’s not your fault. It’s fine.”
“Let me make it up to you!” Jake said, his eyes bright and eager.
“Don’t worry-”
“Mee I want to. “ He insisted, “I feel like an ass for what happened. Let me take you out. What do you say?”
“Out where?” Mia asked, giving in with a reluctant smile.
“That new sushi place at the harbor?”
She considered it. Mia wanted to go even though it was foolish. There was no guarantee the same thing wouldn’t happen again. No matter where Jake went, he always seemed to know someone- but it was a risk she would take. “Okay,” she caved, “but not tonight. I need to go home and sleep this hangover off.”
“It still makes no sense that you’re this sick.” He squeezed her hand again. “Lightweight,” he grinned crookedly.
“Ya, ya,” She was feeling a bit better actually. Maybe being mad at Jake had made her physically ill. That would be weird.
They sat together until her half-hour was up; Jake was more than happy to take on the lion’s share of the conversation as Mia half-listened. The warmer than usual May weather started to turn as they said their goodbyes, the bright blue sky going dark as heavy grey clouds rolled in.
“Looks like I’ll be walking home in the rain,” Mia said squinting up at the heavens.
“Why don’t you take a cab?” Jake suggested. He released her from a crushing hug and stepped back, stuffing big hands into the pockets of his faded jeans.
“If it gets bad I will.” She smiled to cover the lie. Mia would walk to Maine and back before she rode in a New York cab.
“‘Kay babe, see ya tomorrow.” With a heart-stopping wink, Jake turned on his heel and set off across the street. Mia made a face at his retreating back and kept watch until he passed through the subway terminal beneath the Coach Time Warner Building. She sighed and shook her head wearily. Then she let herself back into the store as the first raindrops started to fall.
Chapter 8
Her hands shook with cold as she fit the key into the lock. Mia cursed her stiff fingers when they slipped, scraping painfully against the sharp edge of the brass key. With an irritable tug, she pulled the headphones from her ears, cutting Zeppelin off in mid-scream, and clenched her injured hand against her chest. She dripped water on the grey and white-checked ceramic tile in a steady stream. The black fabric of her uniform clung to her skin, cold and wet from her twenty-minute walk in the rain.
Mia forced the lock- it was still new and stuck easily- and felt the deadbolt slide within the door. She let herself in, impatient for the warmth she could always count on. The thermostat was set warmer on account of her and Mom continually suffering from frozen hands and feet. Mia’s father often complained, but he was blessed with the high body temperature all males seemed to possess and knew it was futile to argue. He wasn’t home enough to wage a war over the temperature.
Mia shed her denim jacket, tangling the cord of her headphones in the process. She disconnected them from her phone in the back pocket of her jeans and threw the whole mess on top of her Converse. Leaving everything in a pile sure to get her in trouble when her mother found it, Mia headed for the bathroom. She didn’t have the energy to care. Her teeth chattered loudly, and she crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself for warmth. Even her socks were soaked, her feet leaving damp footprints on the hardwoods down the hall.
Feeling ridiculous even as she did it, Mia avoided looking in the bathroom mirror, the memory of her morning’s encounter still fresh in her mind. She bypassed the sink with her eyes averted and went straight for the shower tub. Hot steam filled the room while Mia waited for the bath to fill. The remaining four hours of her shift had passed without further incident, and she was feeling more herself than she had since last night. The strange, sick feeling in her belly still lingered but it was a ghost of its former self, and Mia was able to ignore it for the most part. The visions had stopped too, mostly because she was careful to avoid all reflective surfaces. It was a great relief as she’d begun to fear for her sanity.
She added some Epsom salt, and a generous amount of hyacinth scented bubble bath to the water and stood back, watching the bubbles start to form. Mia inhaled the sweet scent and felt herself truly relax for the first time since waking up. She perched herself on the edge of the tub and pulled her phone out of her pocket. Mia scrolled absently through her Facebook feed, skipping over status updates of people she barely knew and nonsense articles with titles worded to grab her attention. Finding nothing of interest, she switched to Instagram and spent the next minute or so double tapping pictures of far-off landscapes and candid shots. When the water reached halfway up the side of the tub, Mia roused herself and closed the faucet. Steam curled off the surface invitingly, and she shed her clothes, hurriedly stripping down to the skin before stepping into the bath.
“Hhhh,” The water was scalding as it closed around her legs. Mia opened the faucet to add some cold water to the bath and stood for a few moments, stirring until the temperature was bearable. She closed the tap and lowered herself into the fragrant liquid. It felt great to rest her head back against the cold surface of the fiberglass shower tub and close her eyes.
It wasn’t long before her mind found its way back to the disturbing dream of the morning. Mia puzzled over the same fragmented images she’d started recalling at random moments throughout the day. The scene had become unclear with each visitation but the emotions retained their intensity. Her pulse quickened with the fresh wave of anxiety that flooded her system as she wrenched desperately at the fictional door in her head.
Not for the first time Mia wondered how she’d conjured a scene like this. The stone corridor was like something o
ut of Game of Thrones, nothing she had ever seen first hand. It was so realistic. It even smelled the way a place like that should smell; dank and musty. Did dreams even have a smell? Mia frowned. She was being ridiculous; it was only a dream after all. A very real dream she would admit but a dream nonetheless.
Mia snorted and opened her eyes. She stared at her robin’s egg blue toenails peeking out from the suds and smirked. The color was her mother’s choice, but Mia liked it even if she would never have picked it herself. She was starting to get hot now. Her scalp prickled uncomfortably and a fine layer of sweat broke out along her hairline. Mia reached a hand up and pulled the elastic from her hair. The topknot unraveled, spilling auburn locks down over her shoulders so the ends floated lazily on top of the water. Mia took a deep breath and submerged her head beneath the surface.
There was a loud knock at the door when she re-surfaced, and her mom’s raised voice came to her through the door. “Mia!” Sarah called once and then, “Mia get out of the tub right now.” Crap. She shouldn’t have left her stuff at the front door. “Mia!” Her mother yelled again and rapped on the door for good measure.
“I’ll be right out!” Mia called as she reached for the shampoo.
“Hurry up!” Came Sarah’s reply and then it was quiet out in the hall.
Mia frowned and squirted a generous dollop of shampoo into her palm. In these cases, it was not unusual for her mother to hound her through the door about whatever misdeed she’d committed until Mia came out to answer for it. It wasn’t an unpleasant change. Mia shrugged her shoulders and did her best to hurry before her mom came back.
She’d just wrapped a towel around herself when Sarah called again, sounding impatient.
“I’m coming!” Mia answered, her tone mirroring her mother’s. She threw the bathroom door open with one hand, keeping a firm grip on her towel with the other. “What?” Mia demanded, finding the hallway empty. “What?” She called again and waited.
Mrs. Astor appeared at the end of the hall; something clutched in her hand. She stormed toward her daughter, holding the envelope out in front of her. Mia’s stomach lurched, and her heart rocketed itself into her throat. The sound of its erratic beating was unbearably loud in her ears. With all that had happened today, Mia had forgotten about UBC and the letter she was expecting. This was it. Her future was inside that stark white envelope. She was sure of it. Her mother stopped in front of her, her breath coming almost as fast as Mia’s own. Her face flushed with excitement, “It’s from UBC.” Sarah thrust the letter in front of Mia’s face. Mia didn’t have time to register the small text or what it said before the envelope was ripped away. “Here,” Her mother offered the package to her, her blue eyes trained on Mia’s brown ones.
She wasn’t sure why but her first instinct was to slap the envelope out of her mom’s hand and run for her bedroom. It was all too real. The letter inside the innocent looking package felt like a bomb rigged to explode upon reading. She was either about to uproot her entire life and move three thousand miles to a place where nothing and no one would be familiar to her or stay here in New York surrounded by concrete and steel and so many people she couldn’t help but feel small and insignificant. Mia switched her gaze to the envelope in Sarah’s thin hands. Steeling herself, she took it with trembling fingers. Her movements were slow and painful; it was like watching someone else tear the edge of the envelope instead of doing it herself. Mia let a scrap of paper fall to the ground, following its long, meandering descent with her eyes before turning her attention back to the contents of the envelope.
A thick wad of paper slid into her hand, and Mia let the empty vassal fall to the ground. “God, please,” She prayed under her breath. Her hands were stiff and clumsy as she unfolded the papers. Her eyes locked on the letterhead with the university crest in the top left corner and her breath hitched. Then she flicked her gaze down to the body of the letter and read it. And reread it.
“Well?” Mrs. Astor prompted when her daughter scanned the document in her hands for the third time. Mia forced herself to tear her eyes away from the crisp black print.
“I-” she blinked, realization kicking in at last. “I got in.” It came out as a whisper. “Mom, I got in.” Mia repeated a bit louder then, “I got in! Holy shit, I got in!” She practically vibrated with elation. Mia grabbed her mother’s hands ignoring the starchy paper clutched between their palms and squealed.
“Congratulations!” Mom screamed as they bounced up and down on the soles of their feet. They beamed at each other with matching smiles- their only shared trait- lost for the moment in contagious giggles of relief and excitement.
“I can’t believe it!” Mia gushed when some of the shock had dissipated. “I didn’t think I’d actually get in.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Her mother said sounding almost angry. “You are so talented, honey. I knew you were going to get accepted.”
“Thanks, mom,” Mia said with the sting of happy tears in her eyes. She let go of Sarah’s hands and folded her mother into a tight hug.
“Oh baby,” Mom choked out past a throat thick with tears, “my baby girl.” It was Mia’s turn to hold her mother while she cried. “You’ll come visit us, right?” Mom asked, sniffing against Mia’s shoulder.
“I’ll come home on the holidays,” Mia promised and hugged her mother harder. It would be a huge change, and it wasn’t going to be easy on either of her parents. For the last nineteen years, it had been the three of them. “Every single one.” Mia promised.
Mia knew she should call Jake with the news. In her bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, she decided not to.
Her dad was taking Mia and her mother out for a celebratory dinner. It was selfish of her, but Mia didn’t want Jake along. Dad had booked the restaurant- a new place in Hell’s Kitchen Mia couldn’t pronounce the name of- as soon as her mother had called him with the news. He was going to meet them there and even promised to leave his phone at the office, which was a huge deal; his blackberry was his direct line to his work as a lawyer. Wherever he went, it went as well.
Mia tossed her phone onto the comforter and bent forward to roll the black nylon tights her mom had lent her up and over her knees. She traced the delicate lace tops with her fingertips, enjoying the feel of it against her skin. Mia never wore stuff like this- not that she had many occasions for it. She got to her feet and smoothed the front of her black dress down over her stomach, the hem falling above the knee. Mia took a deep, steadying breath in preparation to check her appearance in the mirror hanging above her dresser.
She told herself there was nothing to fear, the worst of her hangover had passed, and so too had the hallucinations. Mia still felt a spike of anxiety as she deliberately sought out her reflection. She stared warily at her pale, oval face in the mirror and felt her heart up its tempo. Her eyes were impossibly dark, wide with fear they met her gaze from beneath neatly arched brows. Mia waited with bated breath for something to happen. Nothing did. The glass remained smooth and solid, her image unwavering. After a long moment, she started to feel ridiculous.
“You’re stupid.” She told the girl in the mirror and shook her head. That’s enough now, it’s fine. You were stressed, and you let yourself go a bit nuts, but it’s done now. You got in. You’re going. It was like a breath of fresh air. It made so much sense now; yes, she had suffered from a nastier than normal hangover, but the added stress about her future was like fuel for the flame. Confident she did, in fact, have a future to look forward to, Mia could stop sabotaging herself with strange and frightening visions. She felt the lovely combination of relief and excitement bubble up within her again. It was easy to put the harrowing past sixteen hours or so aside and concentrate on being happy for herself. Mia grinned and watched her reflection transform.
Chapter 9
She didn’t have time to dry or straighten her hair, so Mia ran a comb through the thick wet mass and pulled it back, twisting it into a rounded bun at the back of her head. Mi
a took her time with her makeup, doing her best to apply the right amount of eyeshadow.
Mia didn’t wear much as a rule, opting for a more natural look but tonight was different. Eyeliner was tricky, but she managed to stencil in fine, somewhat even lines that made her almond-shaped eyes look bigger. Mia touched the apples of her cheeks with a light pink hue that matched the rosy tint of her lips and stood back to inspect her work with a smile. Pretty good. So good, in fact, she regretted Jake would not be at dinner to see it. Mia, snorted- at least she could laugh at herself-and went in search of a pair of shoes to go along with her ensemble.
She slipped her feet into the pointed black pumps last worn to prom with Jake and grimaced when they started to pinch right away. Mia rocked from her toes to her heels in an attempt to stretch the stiff, black leather and wondered how they were getting to the restaurant. The thought of walking all the way to Columbus Circle in four-inch heels was daunting.
“Mom?” Mia called, stepping out of her room “We should get going if we’re gonna make it there on time to meet Dad.”
“Is the car here?” Sarah Astor came plodding down the sparse hall looking flustered but pretty in an emerald green dress that hugged her curves.
“What car?” Mia asked and followed her mother into the bathroom.
“Your dad sent a car for us,” Sarah pulled open the top drawer of the vanity and rattled around, hunting for the right shade of lipstick.
“Really?” Mia raised her brows in surprise. Her father was pulling out all the stops for this evening.
“Uh-huh.”
Mia watched in fascination as her mother leaned into the mirror and carefully outlined her lips in a vibrant red. It was a great color; it went perfectly with her mom’s smooth, pale skin and the jewel tone of the dress. Mia’s eyes drifted to the tattoo over the pulse point on her mom’s wrist and felt her heart squeeze at the sight of the clean black line rising and falling in jagged peaks.
Chosen (The Last Guardians Book 1) Page 5