We sit quietly for a few minutes, but as I shift to move, she murmurs, her lips brushing against my skin. “Can’t we just order a pizza? You’re like a hot water bottle.”
I smile, inhaling the smell of my shampoo in her hair. It’s not nearly as nice as the one she usually uses, but the smell of me on her, plus wearing my clothes, makes all blood rush south.
“Yeah, love. I’ll order a pizza for us.”
I keep a tight hold of her as I use my free hand to pull out my phone, making the order.
“What’s the story with your hometown?” I ask.
She inhales sharply, her back stiffening beneath my palm as she tries to pull away. She looks up at me for a moment, her faceflushed from the warmth of the room. She turns from hurt to annoyed to neutral in a matter of seconds.
“No story,” she says, attempting to increase the space between us.
“Mia…you don’t have to tell me what happened, but don’t lie to me. There’s a story there.”
I have no right to demand any answers from her, but part of me hopes she trusts me enough to tell me, regardless.
“It was when I was in high school,” she sighs, leaning back against the arm of the couch and unfolding her legs until she places them over my lap. I grab a blanket to cover us, and she continues.
“I dated someone older, someone I shouldn’t have been with at all. It didn’t end very well.”
“How old were you?” I ask.
“Seventeen.”
“How old was he?”
“Thirty-two.” She smiles sadly.
Every psychologist has their neutral face they use during sessions. I was trying to channel mine now, but the thought of a grown-ass man touching teenage Mia, so young and naïve, made my blood boil uncontrollably. I wanted to find him and punish him for the pain he’s caused her.
“How did you know him?”
“He was one of my teachers. And, honestly, I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this.” Her eyes glisten in the low light as she looks up at my ceiling, blinking rapidly. “His wife was also a teacher at my school. I didn’t have classes with her, but I knew of her. My high school wasn’t that big, so everyone kind of knew everyone.” She takes a long sip of her hot chocolate, and I reach out and pull her hand into mine, intertwining our fingers.
I stay quiet, giving her time to tell me more.
“I thought we were in love. I thought…I thought that he saw me as an equal. But it wasn’t like that at all. His wife found out, and it turns out I wasn’t the first student he’d been with. They’d moved to our town because he had done it before.”
She shifts, wiggling herself down so she’s more lying down than sitting. I rub my thumb along the inside of her calf, kneading the muscle.
“When she found out, he’d sworn that I had been the instigator. That I had thrown myself at him, essentially forcing myself on him, when in reality it was the total opposite. He told me how beautiful I was, how clever, how I could be anything I wanted and that he was going to take care of me. His sweet girl. He used to get me to dress up in schoolgirl outfits, cheerleading costumes even though I wasn’t one. He said he liked how innocent I was. How he was the only person I’d been with, the only person I’d even kissed.”
She pauses for a moment to catch her breath and I temper the fury behind my eyes.
This is why Mia had freaked out when I called her sweet girl at Lottie’s. She could barely breathe, barely hold it together as I tried to wrack my brain as to what I had done wrong. It turns out Mia was thinking about a predator that had her running from her hometown. Thank god I picked up on it at the time.
“He used to…used to spank me. I hated it even then, but I was so desperate to make him happy, I would have done anything. And then when his wife found out, she was furious of course. She printed fliers with my face on them and spread them around town. It had ‘whore’ and ‘slut’ written across my face. My whole family knew, my friends, literally the entire town. I was just grateful that I only had a few months until graduation, and then I got a late admission to Seattle University, and I moved here. I left my family to deal with the fallout, and that’s why Ihardly go home anymore. And when I do, we rarely go into town because people still stare and whisper about me.”
“The waitress. That’s why she said the thing about you liking older men.”
Mia nods, a single tear falling down her cheek. She pulls her hand from mine, roughly brushing the tear away. “It's fine. It’s fine. I’m mostly over it. I just feel so stupid sometimes, like I can’t believe I thought he loved me and we were meant to be together.”
“Mia…” I take her hand back, covering it with mine.
“It took me so long to trust my own judgment again, and with men, I just…it takes me so long. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully trust anyone again.”
I nod. “I get that. Having that response is completely understandable. You know that, right? Learning to trust your own gut is not a skill everyone knows how to do. But you’re a good person; you make good choices.”
