Page 44 of Wild

"Well." Lexie checks the time, wipes her mouth with the napkin, and stands. "It's been a pleasure." She walks over to Erin, who hasn't had time to get up, and leans down with one hand on the back of her chair and the other on the table. "A very exquisite pleasure," she whispers against her ear before kissing her right there. "I'm heading out. I have to swing by my hotel to grab my stuff and check out, then I'll come back here to pick up my credentials for the next show. Maybe I'll see you."

"Maybe," Erin says again, and Lexie laughs, trails a soft touch along her neck, and leaves.

Erin feels something squeeze in her stomach when she hears the door close. She can't shake the thought of someone seeing Lexie walk out of her room, because for some twisted reason, she doesn't want Mia to find out that the journalist was here.

She finishes breakfast and stays a while staring out the window without really seeing anything, just struck by how clear the morning is considering it was pouring last night when they left the concert. She runs a hand along her jaw and winces. Lexie bit her right there and it felt incredible when she did it, but now it hurts when she touches it and there's a small red mark. Nothing to worry about—it's tiny and it doesn't scream one-night stand—but she doesn't like marks.

She gets up, stretches again to finish waking up, and decides today she absolutely has to find time to hit the gym.

It's exactly nine o'clock when she steps into the hallway. She's not entirely sure whether to use Mia's room key or knock to avoid walking in on something she'd rather not see. She goeswith the second option, just in case, but after knocking a couple of times and getting no answer, she swipes the card and walks in.

She freezes just inside the entrance, scanning the floor for scattered clothes, but there's nothing, so she moves quietly toward the bedroom, not wanting to wake Mia if she's still asleep. She pushes the door open and finds so much light she has to blink. The bed is unmade—on one side only—and the bathroom door swings open and Mia walks out in shorts and a bra, toweling off her hair.

Erin's lungs empty all at once and she drops her gaze. She can't react this way to the singer's body, especially not after last night, which left her very satisfied—but she does. Something vibrates low in her stomach and drops between her legs like an uncontrollable wave.

"Hey," Mia says, tossing the towel over a chair and looking for a shirt to put on.

"Good morning," Erin says, running a hand through her hair, fighting the urge to pull at a strand.

The singer pulls on a basic t-shirt and walks over as the doctor watches.

"Did you smoke?" Erin asks, having caught the smell of weed the moment she walked in.

"Yeah, a joint. You already know that."

"I don't know unless you tell me, Wilder."

Mia raises an eyebrow.

"Do I have to report every single thing I do? You know I smoke after a show—it relaxes me. I didn't think it was the first thing I needed to tell you the next morning, or that it's even relevant to—"

"Everything matters," Erin cuts her off, though gently, reaching out at the same time to take Mia's hand and check her pulse. "If you smoked, your baseline is altered by the effect. You might feel relaxed right now when you're actually not."

The singer doesn't even fully follow what she means by that, but she doesn't bother trying to work it out, because right now all she can think about is that the doctor's fingers are on her skin, and Mia's whole arm tingles and she feels a faint pull in the center of her chest every time that happens.

"What time did you smoke?" The doctor releases her hand gently and pulls the small notebook from her pocket.

"I don't know, around two in the morning, give or take."

"And what time did you go to bed?"

"Right after. I smoked it and lay down—I don't think it took me long to fall asleep," Mia explains, watching her write and watching the lines of the muscles in her forearm shift as she does.

"What time did you wake up?"

"That's quite the interrogation, Dooley." Mia tucks her hands into the front pockets of her shorts and Erin looks at her for a second, landing on the conclusion that this girl doesn't have to do a single thing to be attractive. Even in those casual shorts, a basic t-shirt, and her hair still tangled because she hasn't brushed it yet. Mia Wilder is pure temptation.

"It's part of the job…"

"I know," the singer says, pushing her hands deeper into her pockets and pulling her shoulders up like she's trying to tuck her head between them, like she feels vulnerable in Erin's presence right now.

Erin is about to ask if she's okay, if something's bothering her, but lately they can't make it through a conversation without it turning into a fight, so she decides to keep her mouth shut.

"I slept about five hours, if that's what you're trying to calculate."

Erin presses her lips together. It's not enough time—not what Mia needs—but she's always more flexible after a show.

"What did you do until two in the morning?"