by Claire Raye
Mila points to the three piles of cards on her bed as I sit down opposite her. “Words I know, words I don’t know and words I sorta know,” she says with a shrug.
I nod, looking at the three piles before scooping them all up and shuffling them together.
“Hey!” Mila shouts with a laugh. “What the hell?”
I grin at her. “It’s good to mix it up,” I tell her. “Plus, I need to make sure you really do know these words, maybe there are some you think you know, but you don’t really.”
Mila purses her lips together as she looks at me. “And how do I know you know all the words?”
I laugh. “Oh, Mila, sometimes you can be so silly.”
She gently kicks my leg with her foot. “I’m serious,” she says smiling, even as she tries to pretend to be annoyed. “How do I legit know you know this shit? I mean where did you go to college?”
I raise a brow as I sit back against the headboard of her bed. I don’t have to work tonight, so after the gym, I took a quick shower and pulled on sweats and a t-shirt, not bothering with shoes before I came over here. I stretch my legs out in front of me as Mila gets comfortable beside me, crossing her legs beneath her and watching me the whole time.
“Tell you what,” I say, shuffling through the cards. “For every word you get right, you get to ask me a question.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I hold up a hand, stopping her. “First word, pulmonary artery?”
Mila lets out a huff. “The vessel that takes blood from the heart to the lungs.”
“Very good,” I say with a smirk. “I went to Curtin Uni in Perth. Second word.”
“Wait, what if that wasn’t the question I wanted to ask?” she shouts, leaning over to smack my thigh.
I laugh. “But you asked me before?”
Mila’s brows narrow as she glares at me. “Fine,” she says. “But next time, I get to ask the question.”
“Okay, okay,” I say, giving her a wink. “Alright, second word. Gluteus maximus?”
Mila smirks at me. “Ass muscle.”
I burst out laughing. “Right, that’s what you’re putting on your test?”
She shrugs. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Technically, yes.”
“Okay,” she says, smiling as she watches me. “So, my question is,” She pauses as though she’s trying to come up with a good one, which makes me a little nervous, “why’d you quit nursing to go traveling by yourself?”
I take in a long slow breath, stalling a little as I try to come up with an answer that doesn’t have her asking too many more questions about it. “Wanted a change of scenery,” I eventually say. “And I wanted to travel, so two birds, one stone kinda thing.”
“Wanted a change of scenery,” Mila repeats, those big beautiful brown eyes of hers looking at me like she knows there’s more to this.
“Uh huh.”
“Wanted or needed?” she asks.
I shove a hand back through my hair, trying to work out how the hell this girl can read me so well. And why the fuck that doesn’t scare me half as much as it should.
“A little of both,” I finally admit. “Probably kinda like you and moving to Hawthorn, huh?” I don’t know why I add that last part. Maybe because I want Mila to tell me her secrets too or let her know that I can see her just as well as she sees me.
She exhales, tipping her head in a small nod as she says, “Something like that, yeah.”
I smile, sliding my foot over so it rests against her leg. “Something we have in common then.”
We run through a few more words, most of which Mila gets right. She keeps the questions light now though, asking me about where I’m from and what places I’ve lived in since I left Australia. I ask her about her childhood, where she grew up, all the usual getting to know you kind of stuff.
When I pull the next card off the stack though, I burst out laughing at what’s written on there.
“What?” Mila asks, leaning over to try and look.
I put a hand on her shoulder, trying to stop her as she moves a little, trying to see what I’m laughing at. As she does, my hand slips from her shoulder, no longer supporting her as she now falls forward and lands against my chest.
She lets out a huff as she does and suddenly I’m surrounded by her scent, by the feel of her warm body against mine as inside my own body starts to go haywire. My heart is pounding in my chest, my nerves all seemingly firing at once as Mila practically lies against me.
“Ah shit,” she says with a laugh, her hands on my biceps as she attempts to push herself up.
“Stop trying to cheat,” I say, gently easing her back.
Her fingers slide up my arms and under the sleeve of my t-shirt. I can tell the second she feels them, her eyes widening a little as she looks down at the scars on my left arm. I don’t consciously try to hide them, I know that’s impossible, especially in summer. But it’s rare that anyone gets this up close and personal with them. Rare that anyone actually touches them.
“What are these?” she whispers, looking up at me.
We are so close I can see every single one of her eye lashes, every freckle on her nose. She’s so close, I could lean in and kiss her.
It surprises me that I want to.
As though she can read my mind, Mila’s tongue slips out as she licks her bottom lip. I have to stifle the groan, even as her fingers tighten on my arms.
“Clitoris,” I say.
Mila’s eyes widen as she sucks in a breath. “What?”
I grin, unable to move, unable to pull away as I hold up the card and say, “Clitoris.”
A huge smile breaks out on her face as she continues to watch me, not pulling away either. “Well, that’s one I definitely know,” she says with a laugh. “Not convinced you do though.”
I chuckle. “Oh, I know, Mila,” I say with a wink. “I most definitely know.”
She smirks now, watching me as she says, “Wanna prove it?”
I raise a brow in question. I should stop this, should move her back to her side of the bed and stop whatever this moment is that’s happening between us. But I don’t. Because for the first time in a really long time, I want it. I want this moment and this thing that’s happening.
Which fucking terrifies me.
“How exactly would you want me to do that, Mila?” I ask, my words barely audible.
A soft gasp escapes. “You could start by demonstrating that you know where it is.”
I smile. “Uh huh, and then?”
“That you know what it’s for and how to make it work.”
“Okay and how would I do that exactly?”
Mila swallows hard, her eyes unblinking as we continue to stare at each other, both of us walking a fine line of flirtation and sexual tension that neither of us seems able to stray from.
“Well,” she breathes. “You have various parts of your anatomy at your disposal, and I’d be happy for you to try all options.”
I burst out laughing, my head falling back and breaking the moment. “Is that right?”
Mila’s smiling, biting her bottom lip as though she’s trying not to laugh. “Yeah, why not?” she says with a shrug. She sits back now, her fingers sliding across my skin as she pulls her hands away from me. As soon as they’re gone, I miss the feel of them against my skin.
“Hmmm,” I reply.
“Hmmm,” she repeats back to me, both of us clearly unsure how to take this moment any further, unsure if we want to.
It’s still there though, this tension between us. She might not be touching me anymore, and we might be in limbo about the suggested demonstration regarding me and her clitoris, but it’s definitely still there, crackling like electricity. It feels foreign and new, as though my body is suddenly waking up and remembering something which for so long has felt lost to me.
With this realization, I wait for the pain and guilt to kick in, but weirdly it doesn’t. Instead, all I feel is
an overwhelming urge to pull her close again, to see just what else she can make me feel.
“Maybe we can discuss a reward system when you nail this test of yours,” I eventually say, neither committing to nor dismissing the idea.
“Is that so?” she asks, smirking at me again.
“Yes,” I reply with a laugh, as I wonder what the fuck I’ve just gotten myself into. “Alright next word.”
“No, wait,” she says, holding up a hand.
I look up and meet her gaze, watching as it flicks to my left arm before back to me. She doesn’t have to ask; I know exactly what her question is.
“They’re from a car accident,” I tell her, with a shrug. “Happened about a year ago.”
“Shit, was it bad? Were you okay?” she asks, concern in her eyes now.
I swallow down the nausea of what happened that night, of all the shit I went through and all the stuff I try to pretend I’m no longer going through.
“I survived,” I say, turning back to the cards.
Chapter Seven
Mila
It’s been a few days since I spent that time studying with Adam, but our conversation is still floating around in my head as I stand in line outside this campus bar with Charlie. I don’t say it out loud because announcing it would make it far more real than I want it to be. Saying it would mean interest and interest is something I can’t have right now. Not when my head is so fucked up.
“Fuck, this is taking forever,” Charlie whines, pushing up on her toes to see how much longer it is till we reach the front of the line. “We should’ve just gone to The Last Drop.”
“We can’t drink there,” I reply, equally as annoyed with the situation as she is.
“Technically I can’t drink here either,” she quips back, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder as she flashes me her I.D.
Some smarmy drunk guy behind us leans over her shoulder and slurs, “I can help you out with that.” His hands attempt to grope at Charlie, and she shoves them away turning to look at him with her lips curled up in a snarl.
“No thank you,” she bites back, sliding closer to me as she rolls her eyes. It’s not like this is a new thing, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying. Flirting is all fine and good when it’s mutual, but not when the guy smells like stale beer and vomit, and he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself.
The line begins to move, but that doesn’t stop the creepy guy behind us from pursuing Charlie, grabbing for her now.
“Excuse me!” she barks, loud enough now that most of the line has probably heard her. “You don’t get to touch me. I will lay your ass out should you put your hands on me again.”
He laughs, which is the wrong response and I shake my head at him, hitting him with a look of faux sympathy.
“You’re feisty,” he teases, but this time he manages to keep his hands to himself.
“Feisty enough to break your fucking nose and not give a shit,” Charlie bites, her tiny body now pressed against mine, even though she knows I can’t protect her.
If I were this guy, I’d be afraid. Charlie has a black belt and has never once not been afraid to use her skills on someone who continues to unwelcomingly invade her space. She may look little and cute and unassuming with her wide pale blue eyes and shiny blonde hair, but she can kick your ass before you even know what’s happening.
I love it.
Luckily for the guy, the line moves again and we’re next, standing in front of a large burly guy with a bald head and arms as big around as my waist. We both smile up at him with Charlie handing her I.D. over before I do. It’s what we always do. Something about it seems to throw them off when they get the real I.D. followed by the fake.
He takes Charlie’s I.D. looks it over for a split second and hands it back to her, stamping her hand with the dreaded “under twenty-one” red ink.
I hand over my newly acquired fake, hitting him with a sweet smile as he looks at it and then back at me. It takes him a second or two longer than it did with Charlie’s, but he eventually slaps my hand with the “over twenty-one” black ink and we make our way inside.
“Don’t be sharing drinks with her!” the bouncer calls out after us and we both laugh.
“Of course not!” I yell back. “I’m not that irresponsible.”
“Yes you are,” Charlie whispers, giggling as she pulls a bottle of hand sanitizer from her purse, rubbing it over the red ink until it vanishes like it wasn’t even there.
I flatten my tongue to the stamp on my hand, wetting it before I grab Charlie’s wrist and smash the backs of our hands together.
We both look down at her hand and looking back at us is a perfect replica of what is stamped on my wrist.
“Works every time,” Charlie says, doing a little dance of joy. “What are we going to do when this stops working?” she now asks, raining a little on our parade.
“Hopefully we’ll be twenty-one by then. It’s not like it’s that far off.”
We keep coming back to this place even though the drinks are weak and the beer is stale because they’re one of the only places on campus that still uses the stamp method for marking their underage patrons. Most use wristbands or like The Last Drop, they check your I.D. with every drink they serve.
“Just a few more months,” Charlie adds, noting that our birthdays aren’t that far off. “Do you think Adam will be okay with banging you once you turn twenty-one?” she asks, trying to sound sincere, but clearly she’s mocking me.
“I’m not banging him.”
“Not yet and maybe it’s because he’s older and wants to wait,” she suggests and I’m already tired of this conversation.
“Oh my god, you act like I’m fucking fifteen and he’s forty. There’s only like seven years between us. Seven years is nothing.”
“Waiting might be good for you,” Charlie now suggests in a rather motherly tone, shrugging her shoulders as if it’s just a comment rather than a gentle nudge in that direction.
“Waiting is good for me and I plan on waiting.” Even as I say it, I realize how hard that will be. I can picture us on my bed, studying my vocabulary and with each word that passes between us, we’re brought closer to crossing that line. Plus, everything about him screams sex and sexy and fuckable.
I have never been the queen of self-control, so this is a real test. But since neither one of us has made a move other than with words, we aren’t anything to each other. Not yet anyway.
Charlie snags a table in the middle of the packed room, squeezing onto the stool, she tosses a hand up for the server to come by our table.
The guy walks over with no real enthusiasm or desire to serve us, but I get it. He works at a bar in a college town where tips are crap and the customers are usually belligerent or falling down drunk.
“What do you have on special?” Charlie asks, passive aggressively looking around the small table for a menu.
“Coors Light on tap for a dollar and tequila shots, two for six bucks,” he replies, absentmindedly, almost annoyed that she asked.
“Is the tequila watered down?” Charlie questions, her lips pursed, her arms crossed over her chest.
“What do you think?” he hits back, now smiling at her. “Don’t you come in here for the atmosphere and stellar service?”
“See I thought we came here because you’re the only one who has no idea if we’re underage or not,” she quips back, playfully flirting with him.
“I didn’t hear that,” he replies, his cheeky smile remaining. “So, what will it be?”
“Tequila shots.” She holds up two fingers to indicate two and he walks off without much more to do.
After four watery tequila shots and zero buzz, we decide to bail and head over to The Last Drop. Obviously, there will be no drinking, but at least there will be some good eye candy with Adam working tonight. I’m okay with the no drinking anyway. It’s one of the things I’ve added to my list of no-no’s, even if it
’s just something I’ve only mentally told myself. Announcing that you no longer drink in a college town is like the kiss of death. It’s easier to have a couple of watered-down shots or carry around a drink, nursing it.
“Why don’t you just ask him on a date?” Charlie suggests without me even bringing Adam up. She really doesn’t want to let this whole thing go. “It might be nice to just actually date him rather than…well, you know.” Again, she shrugs, shaking her head, making sure I know it’s just a suggestion, a gentle nudging, like always.
She’s trying to help, and I know that, but I need way more help than she can give. Something about her comment makes me look down at the clutch I’m holding, remembering the card I was given as I left the hospital in Tahoe.
“You’re going to need this,” the woman had said to me and without responding, I shoved it into my bag and there it’s been ever since.
“Maybe,” I say, trying to appease her. “Or you could find someone to date, so my relationship status isn’t always on your mind.”
She knows I’m joking and she links arms with me while we walk up the alley toward the back entrance to The Last Drop.
“I could totally find someone to date, but I’d prefer it just fell in my lap. Have you seen the guys who hit on me? Yuck,” she says, sticking out her tongue, her face scrunched up. “That guy tonight in line was just the tip of the iceberg. You know they’re always top notch.”
I laugh even though I know it will piss Charlie off. For some reason she does seem to be a magnet for douchebags. Not that I’ve fared any better myself. My most recent one being the worst of them all, so it would be nice to add Adam to that mix to up the average. But adding him means he may figure out just how fucked up I really am.
“I think your plan is probably better. Wait it out and let the good ones find you,” I say, punching the number into the keypad on the back entrance.
The door unlocks and we step inside. It smells clean and the hallway is litter-free, unlike the place we just left. I have no idea how Caleb does it, but this bar is the best one in Hawthorn and I’m not just saying that because the owner is dating my sister.