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I see Ava’s hopeful eyes, and even though the offer is so tempting, I'm so close to taking it, I know it would be too much. Living with this guy and working with him. Okay, I would never cross that line, but I don’t exactly want to see him bringing girls home or see other girls flirt with him across the bar.
“Live with you and work with you? I’m sorry, but I can’t handle you that often,” I lie and hear Ava hiss at me to not be rude while kicking me under the table.
Riley holds my gaze for a long moment. I almost think he can see through me, but instead of pointing a finger and labelling me a liar, he merely nods. “Alright, that’s your call. But I’ll be at the bar if you change your mind.” And with a wink, he leaves Ava and I with an offer too good hanging in the air.
“What the hell was that?” Ava hisses, drawing my attention to her. “That is the best offer you’ll ever get. A job and a place to live. You would be crazy to pass that up.”
Taking the drink Riley left us, I hold it up to cheers with a tight smile. “Then send me to the nuthouse.”
“This is serious, Mia. You could end up on the streets. Is that what you want? You say you wanna be independent, well, this is it, making these hard decisions. They are not always the best, but they are all we have. So you have three options: live with me, live with Hunter, or grow up and walk over to that bar and take the fucking offer because I won’t have my friend living on the streets.”
I blink, taking it all in, surprised to hear my friends speak like this. “I could still find a job.”
She levels me with a look. “You have spent all month applying, and each one rejected you for your lack of experience. Sweetie, I say this out of love, but you better get your ass out of that seat and take Riley’s offer.”
I cross my arms over my chest, considering giving her the silent treatment like when we were kids, and I was pissed but I would always break. But giving her the silent treatment wouldn’t make her words any less true. I hold her eyes with my own and watch as she starts to see my resolve dissipate into one of surrender. I slump my shoulders forward and sigh. “I hate you.”
She cocks her head. “No, you don’t. Now, go on.”
Ava nods her head towards the bar, and I groan like a child as I drag myself out of the booth, manoeuvring through the mass of bodies while searching the bar for a familiar blue shirt.
I sigh again when I see him serving up some drinks to a group of young dudes who take their drinks without giving Riley a second thought. But Riley doesn’t appear to pay them any mind either when his eyes find me in the crowd as I finally reach the bar.
I try to keep my face neutral as his eyes stay focused on me and he says something to a young, clean-cut looking guy in a polo working beside him. The man nods, slapping Riley on the shoulder, before he makes his way to where I sit at the bar.
When he reaches me, his mouth is tense as if to suppress laughter, which only makes me narrow my eyes at him when he rests his hands on the bar top. Cocking his head, he says, “So, what can I get you?”
I roll my eyes. “You gonna make me say it?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
I narrow my eyes further at his mock innocent tone and force the words out of my mouth because I have a life to save.
My own.
“How big is the room?”
CHAPTER 15
MIA
“Idon’t like this,” Hunter grumbles as he gathers the last of my bags in his hands as we stand in the middle of what was once my childhood bedroom.
I roll my eyes as I pick up my final box filled with some old records, my arms straining under the weight. “Well, no one asked you.”
I won't tell him how much I don't want this because he would be all too quick to offer up his place, and I have told him so many times why I can do that. We both know I have no choice and that this is the hand life is dealing me right now.
He shakes his head as we exit the room, making our way down the stairs before stopping in the hallway. We both stand there, giving the house we had played in as children one final look, then Hunter asks, “Do you regret selling it?”
I think over the different memories this house holds before I answer, feeling a touch of sadness seep in. “No.” I tear my eyes away from the house to look back at my brother. “This house never held any good memories anyway, so why keep it?”
He shrugs. “There were some good memories. Remember that time when a huge storm hit and we were huddled under a blanket, music blaring to try and hide the sound of the storm.”
He smiles, but I see that memory in a different way. I nod, my own smile tight. “I remember our parents leaving us on our own for a party they had to attend, and I remember them coming home and yelling at us for having the music too loud, telling us to grow up and that it was just a storm.”
His smile falters. “Don’t say that, Mia.”
Scoffing, I exclaim, “Why? Because they’re dead? We both know it’s true, and I am so sick and tired of people treating them like they were the best parents just because they’re dead.”
