Ice To Meet You

Turn Mi(a) On

"Why would you do that?" Nothing makes sense right now and my stomach feels weird. I think it's too much wine—shit how much did I even drink? I want to throw up so bad.

He doesn't say anything but brushes my hair and if he thinks it's helping me calm down, he's absofuckinglutely right. I need his touch.

"Answer me goddammit!" I say a little too loudly, not that Hannah will come to check up on me. That woman sleeps like a log. He pulls me close, but I don't let him. He will not manipulate me any further. This is not a game for me; it is my life and he just screwed it up. I am without a job in New York; I don't know how I will pay the bills or afford the roof over my head. How can he be so inconsiderate and selfish?

"You'll have your old job back Mia, calm down."

"No, I am not calming down Liam. You cost me my job over some stupid game you wanted to play. Do you like to exercise your power just to feel better about your pathetic little life?" I can feel the blood rushing to my head. I have to throw up—if not—I will go off on him. Say things I don't think I should say. I need some control in my life when he is puppeteering everything around me. I climb on him to get to the other side and he touches my cheek when our bodies touch, but I break the contact and hop out of bed. I run to the bathroom, shut the door behind me and kneel in front of the toilet seat. I hold my hair back with my one hand and put my finger down inside my throat.

It's gross and disgusting—I know—trust me, I know. I need to feel better and this helps. Wine and the Oreos I had today night are out of my system and I feel less fucked up. I rinse my mouth and blow my nose—my nose burns and the back of my throat stings, but my stomach isn't churning anymore. I don't feel stuffed and bloated like I was before.

I open the door to the bathroom and he's right there, towering over me. He doesn't say anything but opens his arms out to me and I walk right into his arms. He picks me up and I wrap my arms around his neck. He is not forgiven, but it feels too good to deny right now. He doesn't take me to the bedroom as I was expected. Instead, we are in the kitchen. He turns on the light, places me on the kitchen counter, opens the fridge and pours out water from the Brita in my coffee mug. He hands it to me and I take a big gulp. I can feel the water cascading down my throat into my stomach. It's cold and it certainly helps.

"Are you alright?" Concerned Liam is next level sexy.

"You are mad at him Mia, don't forget!" Inner voice reminds me.

"It's just the wine and Oreos combo, don't worry about it." Before I can say further, he wraps his arms around me and I hug him back. I can't resist the temptation that is William Kent; my body is made to respond to him. I inhale the familiar scent of him and suddenly my throat isn't bothering me anymore... he fills my senses and I feel something stir in the bottom of my stomach—okay fine, I am turned on okay?

He kinda has that effect on me.

"I am sorry baby." He purrs and I want to forgive him. I want to take an eraser and rub this day clean but I know that I can't put a bandage on a wound that requires stitches. If we have to heal, he has to accept the fact that I am not the doormat he can walk all over. He needs to treat me as an equal. If we have to nurse the injury he has initiated, it has to get worse before it can get any better. We have to talk; he has to let me in. I can't be blindsided at every turn I go to.

"Do you want me to forgive you?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

"Prove it."

"How?"

"Answer my questions. If you want 100% honesty, you have to give me back the same."

"That wasn't the deal," he reminds me and of course he was going to—I should have covered my bases when I had the time. Next time whatever he wants from me, I want the same. He might be William I own New York Kent, but I am also Mia I control my own life, Dawson.