Mia Found (Starting Fires Book 3)

by Makenzie Smith

  “Good.” Unable to contain my happiness, I smiled. “Because mine wants you too.” His crooked grin landed on me and he awkwardly leaned across the table, stretching his neck to reach me.

  I sat up and cradled his jaw, placing a soft, gentle kiss against his lips. It lasted longer than what was appropriate for such an upscale place, and we only broke apart when the waiter appeared with our food.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can come back.”

  “No, no. It’s fine,” Paul said, sitting in his chair again.

  We were quiet while we ate, both of us thinking. What his mind dwelled on remained an enigma, but mine…

  Paul Macione—a shy, devoted, passionate man, who’d chosen me. Being seen with him, touching him, it made me feel special. So much was about to change for me. I’d be finished with school, and who knew what the rest of the summer held for us. I’d finally found a man who moved me, who motivated me, who made me passionate and eager.

  Paul was different. He was romantic. I saw my spirit reflected back at me when we were together. He was deep and wise. How much could I learn from him?

  When our food was finished, Paul placed his napkin on his plate and nodded his head towards the elegant dance floor. Two couples were already using it, and my face heated. It was directly in the middle of the restaurant and I hadn’t danced since my senior prom. Paul sensed my hesitancy and smiled.

  Not letting me chicken out, he rose from his chair and extended a hand down to me. I took a breath and went with him. On the dance floor, with all eyes on us, my palms began to sweat. He pulled me against him and moved to the soft music the house band was playing.

  I was stiff. Uncomfortable.

  “Just relax,” he whispered in my ear. “It’s only you and me out here.”

  I looked into his deep, green eyes and felt my heart race. The truth of his words reached me. Here—with his hands on me, his eyes staring into mine—it was just us. No one else existed. It faded away and all I felt was Paul. The heat of him. The flexing of his muscles as he moved. His soft breaths leaving him. What kind of power did he have over me?

  Our eyes locked and I was again mesmerized by how much he could say without speaking. If I tried, I couldn’t even pinpoint the exact attribute that drew me to him. It was just a feeling. A deep feeling. Having Paul look at me—searching, seeking—was unlike anything I’d felt before. I’d always wanted someone to delve in deep and try to find me. Paul would do that. He was doing that.

  My fingers grazed his neck and I caught the miniscule shiver that went down his body. We moved closer, gently swaying. His hands pulled me in. Our mouths hovered over each other. “Take me home with you, Paul,” I whispered. I didn’t want to wait any longer. I didn’t care that this was still new. My heart wanted Paul. I’d never been surer of anything.

  His eyes flared but he took a calming breath. “Not tonight, Pretty. Not yet.”

  “When?” I asked. I was on fire for him, needing to feel that closeness, that unity. It was almost like my first and only time hadn’t counted. When I gave myself to Paul, it would be pure and true—how it should have been originally. The anticipation was a sweet agony.

  “There’s no rush, remember?” he said, giving me affectionate rubs to lessen the sting of disappointment.

  “But I—”

  “I know,” he said. “I want to, too.” He rotated his hips against me so I could feel the hard length of him. My arousal spiked and I took a needy inhale.

  Watching me, he bit his lip as if in pain.

  “Please,” I whispered. We didn’t have to have sex, but my body ached to express itself with him. Anything, it would take anything.

  The band’s song ended and he looked down at me. “Meet me at the car.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ENERGY COURSED THROUGH MY body. Hot, sexual energy. I couldn’t remember feeling this desperate for someone before. While I waited for Paul, I ran my hands through my hair and then over my face, trying to calm down.

  Over my shoulder, I heard Paul’s laughter and turned. He was walking out of the restaurant with a man and woman in tow. I squinted, not believing what I saw.

  Marjorie. Rick. His brother and his fiancé. Paul’s ex. The one he kept pictures of. The one he bought a ring for. The one who devastated him when she left him for his brother. They were here. At this restaurant.

  My arousal dissipated—apprehension and doubt taking its place.

  “Mia,” he said as they approached. “This is Rick, and uh, Marjorie.”

  “Hello,” I said, not offering my hand.

  “Hi,” Marjorie smiled, her arm draped through Rick’s. “We saw you two on the dance floor. Small world, huh?”

  “Yeah.” No. It wasn’t that small. This felt planned.

  Rick eyed me from head to toe and I didn’t like the gleam hiding behind his polite smile. “Why haven’t I met you before?” he asked. “How long have you been dating?”

  I started to answer, but Paul beat me to it. “We met last year,” he said, and despite how awkward and suspicious I felt, it was hard not to see how genuine his loving smile was. “But this is still new.” He came to me, putting an arm around my waist.

  “Are you coming to the wedding?” Marjorie asked. Her teeth were perfectly straight and way too white. Nearly blinding. Her neck was long and slender. Her collarbone pronounced and visible in her low cut dress. We looked nothing alike. Where she was tall, I was short. Her hair color. Eyes. Even skin tone. We were completely mismatched.

  “You haven’t RSVP'd,” she pressed when neither Paul nor I answered.

  “I guess…maybe,” Paul said. “I might be in Florida. They don’t give me much notice.”

  “Well, I hope you make it,” Rick said. “It’s what? Three? Four months away?”

  “Two,” Marjorie said, and I caught the hint of condescension in her smile.

  “We’ll see.” Paul shrugged.

  “All right,” Marjorie said. “It was nice meeting you.” She and Rick walked away and I realized I hadn’t spoken besides my cold hello.

  “Weird, huh?” Paul said, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

  When I knew they were out of earshot, I turned to him. “Did you know they would be here?” I asked, agitated.

  “No,” he said, his brow creasing. “I didn’t.”

  I eyed him warily, not sure if I believed him. “Was this some game? Some show you were putting on to get back at them?” Suddenly, I felt used. Everything that happened tonight felt fake.

  “No,” he said again. “I didn’t. I promise. I come here all the time and have never seen them.”

  When he reached for me, I took a step back. “Take me home,” I said. “I want to go home.”

  “Okay,” he said, trying to be agreeable. “I’ll take you.”

  In his car, we didn’t speak and I had a sick pit growing in my stomach. Maybe Paul was like all the rest. After one thing. Looking for one thing. Ready to use me and cast me aside. Was I still a naïve, stupid girl?

  This time he unbuckled his seatbelt when he parked his car, ready to walk up with me.

  “Wait,” I said. “This feels weird. I feel weird.”

  “Why? Because of them?” he asked, as if I was silly for feeling that way.

  “Yes, because of them!” I said, jerking the door open.

  “Wait,” he called after me. “Mia, wait!”

  Ignoring him, I continued up the stairs. Their metal rattled and clanged as he raced to catch me but I refused look at him.

  “Mia,” he said. “Mia.”

  My keys were in the lock when he wrapped his hand around my arm and turned me to face him. “Mia, what’s going on?” I was too confused to care about the distress in his eyes.

  “You knew they would be there tonight,” I accused. “You used me.”

  Our neighbor came out of his apartment and squeezed by us on the landing, making this conversation even more awkward.

  “No, I didn’t,” Paul whispered. “
I didn’t use you. I’d never use you.”

  I huffed, not sure what to believe and opened my door. Fontenot and Fiona were arguing in the kitchen, stopping only when they noticed Paul follow me inside.

  Fiona’s eyes lit up with calculated joy and she raced over to him. “Paul,” she crooned, giving him a big hug. She eyed Fontenot the entire time, trying to see if her over the top flirtation made him jealous.

  But Fontenot didn’t care. He wasn’t even watching her. He was watching me. While Fiona tried desperately to bother her “boyfriend,” I mouthed Did you tell her? at him.

  He lightly shook his head.

  You should!

  He only shrugged.

  Not caring about anything else happening in that room, not even Fiona’s grabby hands all over Paul, I went to my room and shut the door.

  Paul opened it two seconds later.

  “Fine,” he said when it was shut behind him. “I had a small suspicion they might be there. But I wasn’t sure.”

  “You did use me,” I said, throwing my purse in a corner. I couldn’t look at him anymore and wanted him to leave. “Say what you want to say and then go.”

  “Mia.” Paul said my name like a prayer, and I loved the way it sounded falling from his lips. Mine, it said. My Mia.

  “No.” I wouldn’t let him sway me with soft declarations and his deep, pure eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was selfish of me. I admit, I brought you there because I hoped they’d see me with you and know how happy I am—that I’m over all the shit they put me through, that I don’t need either of them. That they can get married and have a million babies, and I won’t care.”

  His predicament sucked. What they did was wrong and I felt bad for him, but he still used me. “Everything tonight was a sham,” I said. “You were only putting it on for them.”

  “No, I really wasn’t,” he said and walked over to my bed. He sat down and grabbed my hand, pulling me to stand between his spread legs. Refusing to look at him, my eyes stayed focused on our joined fingers. “I didn’t even see them until we finished dancing,” he said. “I promise, Mia. I didn’t know they were there. I wasn’t putting on anything. This is real. What I feel for you is real.”

  He gave my hand a gentle tug and my body betrayed me, falling onto his lap and willingly wrapping its legs around him. His hands ran up my thighs to settle on my waist. One reached up and cradled my face, compelling me to look at him. Those eyes. That mouth. All of his features. Already, within no time, he held such command over me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said and I knew it was sincere. “I won’t ever treat you that way again.”

  I was too proud to say I forgave him. Maybe I hadn’t yet. All I gave him was a tightlipped nod.

  He nudged my jaw with his nose and placed his mouth there. A soft, warm kiss. Slowly, he moved a trail down my neck and then up to my ear. My breath hitched as his tongue gently licked my skin. I held him close, and felt my body begin to move. Even though we were clothed, it knew what it wanted—a gentle, easy rhythm, my hips rocking back and forth.

  Paul moaned, a guttural, male sound at my ear, and pushed his hand into the bottom of my shorts. He squeezed my behind and I let out a pleasured sigh, bringing my mouth to his.

  When I felt myself getting carried away, I pulled back, still too bruised to follow through with anything. Paul was about to say something else but my door flung open.

  “Fontenot!” I screeched. Our breaths were heavy. Paul’s hand was still buried in my shorts. This piece of crap had no business ever seeing me this way again.

  “Whatever,” he said. “You just better come corral your girl. She’s ‘bout to start breaking dishes.”

  Paul stood, helping me to my feet.

  “Well, stop acting like a jerk and maybe she won’t break any dishes.”

  “He’s not a jerk,” Fiona yelled from the kitchen, the sound of breaking glass following her outburst. “He’s a motherfucking piece of shit!”

  Fontenot made a face of agreement. “Those aren’t my dishes she’s breaking,” he said.

  “Fine,” I huffed and went to her.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  FIONA’S NEWLY DYED, BRIGHT yellow hair flowed down her face and her skin looked pale and clammy. “What’s wrong?” I asked, more annoyed than anything. This shouldn’t have anything to do with me. I tried to warn her. I tried to protect her from this, but she knew Fontenot better than me…

  “Him!” she yelled pointing a skinny finger towards my bedroom. “He’s a lying piece of shit.”

  “Whoa,” I said when she reached for another dish. “Calm down! You’re breaking your own dishes. Do you think he cares about that?”

  “Get him out of here, Mia! Get him out of here right now!”

  Frustrated, I threw my hands out. When did he become my problem? Knowing this would only escalate if no one put a stop to it, I walked to my room and found him leaned against my doorframe. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was wearing a cocky grin.

  “What are you smiling about?” He started to answer, but I cut him off. “Nevermind,” I said. “Just leave.”

  “Why? She’s the one who needs to calm the fuck down.”

  “I’m not calming down shit, you asshole!” Fiona yelled from the kitchen.

  “Why don’t you watch your language?” Fontenot said, egging her on. “Mamma Mia doesn’t talk like that and look how pretty her mouth is.”

  “Shut up,” I said through gritted teeth. He was only trying to rile her up.

  It worked.

  She stormed into our tiny hallway and began berating him. Calling him names. Insulting his manhood. Not to be outdone, Fontenot joined in, yelling right back, and not holding back either. I cringed at some of his choicer comments. Fiona was caught up in the drama and used me as a shield to smack and hit him. Fontenot let her, but was losing his patience.

  Suddenly, Paul was beside me, pulling me out of their way.

  “That’s enough,” Paul said, putting me behind him. “If you’re not gonna leave,” he said to Fontenot, “maybe you should go into another room until this calms down.”

  “Fine by me,” he said and walked right into mine.

  “Not there!” I said. “Go to Fiona’s.”

  She was about to protest, but Paul put a hand on her shoulder. “Take a breath. Talk this out with Mia.”

  Tears came and she hugged him. Closing my eyes, I took an annoyed breath. Poor, little Fiona. She was in this horrible situation of her own making and needed my boyfriend to help her.

  Paul patted her back, but put her in my arms. I gave her a reluctant squeeze and led her to my bed. “I’ll be right back,” I told her and walked with Paul to the living room.

  “You’ve got your hands full,” he said.

  “Yeah. It’ll blow over in an hour or so. Thank you though.”

  “Do I need to stay?” he asked.

  “Not if you need to go. I think the worst is over.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

  “It’s fine.” I kissed him lightly on the lips. “See you soon?”

  “Definitely,” he said.

  In my room, Fiona sat cross legged on my bed, fiddling with the pattern of my comforter. I shut the door and joined her.

  “Okay,” I said. “What happened?”

  “This,” she said and handed me her phone.

  On the screen was a picture of Fontenot and Nicole. It was taken with a photo-sharing app I didn’t use. Wherever they were, it was daylight. Nicole was mid-laugh, her smile bright and genuine. Fontenot had his arm around her neck pulling her towards him. While she laughed, he assaulted her cheek with kisses. The caption read, Don’t get much prettier than this chick.

  I handed the phone back to her. “Where’d you get this?”

  “My friend found it and sent it to me. I didn’t even know he used this app, and it was taken today. Who the hell is she?”

  I hesitated. Did I tell her? I knew Fiona. If
she found out that I knew Nicole, she’d demand I call her or take her by Nicole’s house. She’d want some type of altercation.

  “He was supposed to be working today,” she said. “He’s a lying piece of shit.”

  “What did he say when you asked him?”

  “That it isn’t any of my business. That she’s his friend and I need to butt out.”

  I wasn’t going to say I told you so. Even though I wanted to. Our friendship was on the rocks, but I could remember the good times. The nights we laughed on one of our beds, dreaming and wishing for our futures. The road trips and late night study sessions. There was a time I would have wanted nothing more than to console her. Filled with the memories, I grabbed her hand.

  “You know you deserve better,” I said. “He is a liar and it won’t get any better or easier with him.”

  She huffed, and I knew she hated that I’d been through something similar with him—that I had any knowledge about Fontenot at all. What did she like about him anyway? All he did was toy with her.

  “I’m gonna talk to him again,” she said.

  “Don’t start a fight.”

  “I won’t!” She walked out of my room and I let her go. If I told her about Nicole or Fontenot leaving for work, she’d only find some excuse to blame me. So I didn’t. Her problems were always someone else’s fault, but I still felt the guilt of my omission. I had a selfish hope that perhaps we wouldn’t be roommates when it all blew up and I wouldn’t have to face it.

  Would I live alone then? I’d never lived alone. The idea was terrifying but also exciting. Of course, I’d have to find a better job. So far, none of the companies in my area were hiring. Living alone in a new city was even scarier.