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I wave at her, smiling. "Hey, I'm sorry about yesterday. I was a jerk to you."
Her unique big honey-brown eyes widen, and her brows arch, the flakes of golden swimming in her irises going darker, her mouth turning into a thin line as she tilts her head to the side, studying me. Her gaze lingering on my lips.
It takes me a moment to realize she's trying to read them. I talk more slowly, repeating my greeting and apology.
Mia frowns at me. I can't decide if it's because she can’t read my lips at all and doesn't understand me or simply because she doesn't believe me.
I try again, going for the gist of it as I slowly mouth the words. "Sorry. About. Yesterday."
She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest, the movement attracting my eyes to the prominent swells of her pillowy breasts.
I gulp, feeling more blood pooling south of my belt. Fuck, I need to get a grip before I scare her again.
Well, I guess the scoff clears things up: she understands, but she doesn't believe I'm sincere.
I scratch the side of my head.
She just stares at me.
Oh, right, the iPad!
Damn, how is it that my brain turns to shit around her?!
I fish it out of my messenger bag and show it to her.
She shrugs as if to ask, ‘What do you want me to do with that?'
I unlock the tablet and show her the screen. The white notepad app is open. Fuck, I can't find my digital pencil, but my index will do, I guess.
I draw the word
'SORRY’
in blue capital letters over the screen and then show it to her.
She peers at the screen and then nods but doesn't look really impressed.
I turn the screen back my way, delete that word, and write a quick note.
“I WAS REALLY A JERK TO YOU YESTERDAY. I'M REALLY SORRY I SCARED YOU AND MADE YOU CRY. I WAS FEELING GRUMPY BECAUSE I WAS TIRED AND HAD THE MIGRAINE FROM HELL, NOT THAT'S ANY JUSTIFICATION FOR YELLING AT YOU.”
I show her the screen again, and she reads and nods. She gives me a tight smile and thumb-up and tries to sidestep me as if to walk away.
I move in front of her and wave the tablet at her, signaling that I wish to tell her more.
I jot down another short note and then show it to her.
“YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME, MIA. I'M NOT SUCH AN ASS, USUALLY. WELL, NOT MOST OF THE TIME, ANYWAY, AND NOT TO BEAUTIFUL GIRLS LIKE YOU.”
She reads it, and her pretty eyes narrow. Not one for empty flattery, then. Good. It makes me like her more.
She points at herself, then shrugs and points at me, throwing her hands up, then again points at herself, a questioning look on her face. It takes me a moment to realize what she means.
"How do I know your name?" I ask slowly.
She nods, looking suspicious as fuck and cute as a button.
I smile at her.
