“Okay.”
“How do you want to spend the rest of the night?”
“The same way we spent it the other night.”
“What?” He tilts his head to the side. “What other night?”
“The night at the pool.”
“So, you want me to take you swimming again?” He smirks. “That can be arranged.”
“No...I want to, you know.”
“I don’t know.” He leans forward and gently bites my bottom lip, tugging it. “Tell me.”
I blush as he slips a hand under my shirt and unclasps my bra. “You know what I’m trying to say, Dean...”
“It sounds like you want to have sex again and again, but I’m not sure.” He takes off his shirt. “That’s why I’m asking. Is that it? Do you want to fuck me again?”’
My eyes widen at his last question, but I love that he put it that way. “Yes...Yes, that’s what I want.”
“Good.’ He kisses me. “Lay back and grab the headboard.”
***
The remainder of winter break flies by in a mix of sex with Dean, late night sneak-outs, and several surprise gifts between us.
When the spring semester begins, we still hang out via tutoring afterschool and dates on the weekends, but our time seems more limited. Since the team made the state playoffs, the games are several counties away on some nights, and with Western Peak requiring that I submit a full portfolio before the fall, I find myself a bit more stressed about art than usual.
Dean is crowned Mr. Popular again, to no one’s surprise, (And someone must be playing a joke, because I’m crowned Ms. Popular), but I can’t help but feel that that sweet feeling that we developed during the fall and over winter break is slowly dissipating.
We don’t talk much after his games anymore. Our phone conversations last for a few minutes as opposed to hours, and that strange voice that was at the back of my head when we first started to talk?
Something is telling me that she’s getting ready to say, “I told you so...”
Chapter 9
MIA
Sixteen weeks before prom.
MIA: Just wishing you good luck one last time for tonight’s game! :-) I just finished my second piece for Western Peak and will finish the other two next week. I’m going to get some ice and heating pads and I’ll have them ready for when you get here later. I love you... :-)
I’m not sure if he’s already on the field or not, but I don’t waste any time heading to CVS and picking up all the things I’ve promised. And even though I just told him that I’m finished with my piece, that’s a lie.
My mom came into my room and tore apart my sketches just as I was getting started. She went into a rage like I’d never seen, taking all of the art supplies that I had out and pouring them down the drain. Then she screamed at me for submitting a formal “No Thanks” to Harvard, demanding that I call them immediately.
When I refused, she screamed at me even louder and accused me of chasing pipe art dreams just like my brother. (“Do you really want to be like him? Tattooing junkies just to make it day to day? Do you have any idea the awful life that an ‘artist’ lives? It’s not worth it, Mia. Let me save you.)
I wipe away a tear as her words replay in my head, and my heart hurts to think about just how hard it’s going to be to finish my portfolio for Western Peak. I’ll have to start all over, and I’ll have to use a good chunk of my summer job money to replace everything she destroyed.
I’ll also miss the rest of Dean’s playoff season more than likely, since the remaining games fall under hours when my mom won’t be home and the best lighting is in my room. I’ll also have to find ways to make it up to him because I know he’s gotten used to me being on the side lines supporting him.
I’m not sure why I feel the need to hide the truth about Western Peak from him, but I’ve noticed a distance in him lately, and I think he’s dealing with something much darker so I just hold back.
As it turns out, I’m not sure if that helps or harms us in the long run...
Ten weeks before prom.
“Happy Birthday!” Autumn runs up to me in the hallway and hugs me. “Will I be seeing you later tonight?”
“Not at all.” I smile and mock her voice. “I have a boyfriend.”
She laughs and hands me a card. “What do the two of you have planned?”
“He hasn’t told me yet. He just told me to meet him at Main Park tonight at seven.”
“Hmm. Interesting! Well, if you two get done early, let me know. I’ve been downgraded from being grounded to having “permission” to work at the ice cream parlor, so I’ll be there all night. I’ll treat you both if you come by.”
“Autumn, it’s a Friday. You’re off on Fridays.”
She shrugs. “Okay, so I’ll be in the parking lot with Jacob, but my mom does not need to know that.” She hugs me once more. “Call me later, okay?”
I shake my head at her as she walks away. I stand at my locker for twenty minutes, waiting for Dean to show up to take me home, but he never does.
He’d said he was coming to school today after missing four days in a row, but he’s a no show once again. I call his phone and there’s no answer, but I don’t panic.
I’m sure this is all a part of something bigger that he has planned. He’s already had two massive bouquets of roses delivered to my house this morning and he somehow managed to have a teddy bear with a “I love you” tag stuffed inside of my locker.
Shaking any negative thoughts away, I take the bus home and start to get ready for the first time I’ll actually celebrate my birthday for a full night. (My mom has never really been one for birthdays. Just a simple card, a cupcake, and a “You entered the world on today. Remember that and keep your mind sharp. Very sharp.”)
Just last month I told Dean how I’ve always dreamed of eating birthday cake at night somewhere, under the stars even, so I’m feeling giddy thinking about what he has planned for tonight at the park.
It takes me two hours to get my make-up just right, and another to stop smoothing the fabric of my brand new black and gold dress. It’s strapless and short, falling right above my knees, and it matches my shimmering stilettos perfectly.
The second the clock strikes six forty-five, I practically rush out and jump into my mom’s old car heading straight for the bench where Dean told me to wait.
I don’t mind that it’s cold as hell outside, or that a light snow is falling. I’m too excited about what’s to come.
Until it never does.
Ten minutes pass.
Fifteen minutes pass.
Twenty minutes pass.
Worried, I pull out my phone to call him and see what’s wrong, but I notice he’s sent me a text.
DEAN: Happy Birthday, Mia. Did you get my flowers this morning?
MIA: I did :-) Thank you. Are we still going out tonight?
DEAN: No, I’m sorry. I can’t come.
My heart drops.
MIA: Why not?
DEAN: I just can’t come. I want you to call and tell me all about it later though.
Call and tell him all about it? HE’S the one who told me to come here...What is he talking about?
MIA: Dean...You’re the only person (outside of Autumn) that I actually want to see tonight...why can’t you come?
DEAN: It’s hard to explain.
MIA: Okay...Well, can you explain why you haven’t been to school in a week? Why you’re not letting me come over to see you?
DEAN: No. That’s hard to explain too.
I have no idea what to say. I’m more confused than hurt, and I want to believe he has a perfectly good reason for this, but I can’t think of one. He spent all last week promising me that he would show me what it meant to have a “true birthday” with “cake and candles and all” and that he would make love to me right after, but now it feels just like all my other birthdays. Like any another day.