My favorite day of the week was Monday.
Most people hated Mondays. It marked the end of the weekend, the start of a whole miserable long week. But for me, it was a reset button, anything embarrassing that happened the week before was erased, forgotten over weekend plans and sleeping in. I could recall countless Mondays where no one remembered me stuttering through a presentation or a girl rejecting me the Friday before. But I dreaded that cloudy Monday more than the Tuesday when I ran the mile in my shrunken gym shorts. I didn't want Monday to erase what had happened over the weekend. Then again, I don't think anything could have ever made me forget.
The football team had lost miserably to our rival school, the Horristown Wasps. I don't mean to gloat, but Brandon found himself on the wrong end of a tackle and had to use crutches for the rest of the season. Hearing the news kinda made me wish I went...
Driving past the front of the school, I cringed. Once a year, my school put a wrecked car right near the entrance of the senior parking lot with a large plastic banner that said, 'Was that text worth it?' in faded mustard letters. Then during homeroom, we had assemblies on safe driving. It was equally as useless as the week of respect because no one actually listened to what they told us. They were all things most people with common sense knew to do: Don't drive drunk, be nice to the weird kid, he might be a shooter. I didn't even show up to the assemblies; I just hid in the video room.
Parking my rusted red truck, I waited for the rest of the students to battle their way in. If you didn't get to the parking lot before 7:07 AM, it was a bloodbath to even get on school grounds from the insane amount of traffic. You see, the high school was built right next to the middle school and they started at the same time. So, you either had to fight a mom carpooling, a fuck ton of busses, or your typical angsty teens to even turn into the parking lot. Right of way meant nothing in times of war. Some days the traffic was backed up all the way from the stop light a quarter of a mile down the road. That was why I came to school ten minutes early everyday: sometimes I napped, sometimes I crammed a study sesh, but usually I re-parked my car seven million times to make sure it wasn't crappy. That was one of the biggest fears in the senior class, getting tagged as the worst driver. It started with parking. The saddest part was, I wasn't a morning person, so I had to set seven alarms to make sure I had time to get to school early. But that morning, I was wide awake long before my phone could even ring. There was one car I was specifically waiting for, a forest green Mini Cooper. Another annoying, but great thing for me, my school rewarded the top ten smartest seniors with the closest parking spots to the building. It drove Wyatt mad that I was number one and he was two. The only downside, Mia was five rows over in the sixties.
I watched Wyatt's shiny black BMW convertible pull in next to me. I did a double take of the half full parking lot, hoping I hadn't missed Mia drive in. Skimming the line of cars waiting to turn into the lot, I didn't spot her Coop.
"Dude!" Wyatt banged on the window of my truck "Bella Swan called, she wants her truck back."
I laughed and rolled down the window, "At least I paid for my own car. Did Daddy's money buy you that joke?"
"My dad bought you?" Wyatt pretended to be shocked.
I tossed my head back and laughed.
"Jesus you're in a good mood. Guessing Friday went well?" Wyatt noted.
I glanced at the clock in my car, there was still five minutes before the warning bell rang.
"You can say that." I murmured dreamily, touching my bottom lip.
It still felt soft and tender.
Wyatt's mouth dropped, "No, you didn't...?"
Before I could answer, Mia's copper coils appeared beside him, "Didn't what?"
Seeing her made my brain dizzy. Was this infatuation?
"Talking about the football game. Didn't win I heard." I smiled.
Mia wagged her finger at me, "Jake Morrow, I know you don't like football."
With that, she skipped into the building, a cream colored purse bouncing on her hip.
Wyatt yanked my passenger door open with a creak, "I need details, now!"
I grabbed my grey messenger bag and hopped out of the car. "Time will tell. Now I gotta get inside before Pona kills me."
I headed inside, Wyatt trailing behind me. I knew it was driving him insane, the secrecy, but there was just so much to tell and I didn't even have words to describe my happiness.
"Yeah lucky you, the video production studio is right there, I have to cross buildings to get to Chinese." Wyatt grumbled.
My school was split into two buildings, the East and the West. Between them was the bus parking lot. So if you had a class in the East, you had to go outside and cross, whether it was swelteringly hot or hailing full sized cats. For the most part, freshman owned the East and upperclassmen ran the West, but language classes were still in the East and most electives were in the West. There was no reason behind it other than to completely annoy the hell out of students.
Turning the corner, I saw Mr. Pona in an instant. Pona, as most of us called him, was single handedly one of my favorite teachers I had ever had. He was a bit on the heavy side and had a brown beard that wrapped across his face. After taking three years of video production with the goofy yet sadistic humored man, I applied to be a student teacher for him as an elective to kill some senior year credits. Basically, I got to spend forty-five minutes every morning being his bitch.
"Whatcha doin?" Pona said in a mock high pitched voice.
"Sup Pona." I nodded and walked inside, "I'm gonna be in the studio working on stuff."
"Okay," He called, "But Dowd man wants you to import those clips from the green house interview."
Dowd was the other video teacher who's existence I enjoyed just as much as Pona's. They were a dynamic duo, like the funny brothers on a sitcom. We even had this joke that they were secretly lovers. While Pona had a more relaxed approach, Dowd once sent a series of angry emails to a film festival because they didn't pick our classes' film. The film eventually got in, but our school wasn't welcome to enter any future contests after that.
I crossed through the empty classroom to the door in the back that led to my favorite place in the whole school, the TV studio. There were so many reasons to hate Southern Regional High School, but we had the coolest video program in the district. Concealed behind a thick navy curtain, was a green screen with a mini stage set for students and video club kids. Any video was possible with the wild prop closet exploding with the most obscure and random costumes. I spent about four free periods a day there, whether it was watching movies in the corner or doing interviews for our school's television station, STV. The room adopted me, it became my home away from home.
I slid my beat up laptop out of my bag, sat down, and started typing. I had all these stories and thoughts cluttering my mind everyday and I needed a way to let them out. There were only two things I was truly passionate about, writing and filmmaking. Yes, I know, both are very hard to make into a career, but I could not imagine myself ever doing anything else. Let me tell you, my dad was not very pleased with my decision to apply to film schools instead of law or something boring and happiness draining. That morning, my writing was mindless at first, something to keep me preoccupied, but then I realized I was writing about Mia. That morning, she was literally all I could think about.
"Her hair fell in front of her face like copper coils..." Dowd read from behind me.
"Hey!" I snapped, shutting my laptop.
Dowd held up his hands defensively and ambled to his desk, "Sorry, Jake. I told you day one, I do what I want."
I rolled my eyes, "Isn't that Pona's thing?"
"Pona," Dowd yelled, "What do we do?"
"What we want!" Pona yelled from the other room.
"Import the interview, then you can go back to writing. Finally writing a book?" Dowd asked.
I shook my head.
It had been a dream of mine to write a book and have it published, like legitimately published. But I didn't really consider myself a writer, even though it was something I loved almost as much as my dog. I had been writing since I could remember, jotting down ten page stories when I was seven. Sure, they were chock full of typos, but I just loved it so much. To take a story and create people, a world for them to reside in, and give them life. It took talent, and I wasn't so sure I had any. I did have enough stories to last a lifetime though.
I tucked my laptop back in my bag and logged onto the school desktop. Without even thinking, I opened up the software and plugged in the camera. It was like second nature. I had been making films since I was eight. I used to steal my mom's camera phone and make silly little movies with my action figures. While the clips from the interview imported, I checked my phone:
MIA @ 7:49 -
if a spider becomes a spy, is it considered a SPYder?
WYATT @ 7:32 -
Tell me what happened or I'll come after your car Bella Swan...
"Jesus." I muttered under my breath.
Dowd was too absorbed in editing Friday night's football game to notice nor would he care. Our conversations revolved more around funny videos we found on the internet and dad jokes.
I ignored Wyatt's text, and read Mia's again just to remind myself that she was real.
---
"So this is your house, huh?" Mia asked, standing on the front steps littered with dead potted plants from my mom's gardening phase.
I kicked a rock with the toe of my shoe, "Yeah, sorry to disappoint." I said, rubbing the back of my neck.
Mia shook her head, her hair bouncing, "Not disappointed at all. I didn't expect a mansion or anything. Just you."
My heart sped up three octaves. Just you.
"But mansion aside, my house isn't that nice you know, like compared to a normal person house." I explained.
"Don't be house shy." She teased.
My house used to look nice, about twenty years ago. It was once a humble Victorian style house painted white with green trim. When my parents moved in, they painted over the already chipping paint with a dreary grayish blue. The porch was splintery and the windows whistled when it was windy. But despite all of that, I actually loved my house. When I was younger, I used to love all the extra doors and the servant staircase that climbed the side of the house. I would sit on the window seat in the living room and lounge in the sun on warm days. Despite how much I loved it, I didn't love other people seeing it. I hated to admit it, but I was house shy.
I opened my mouth, but said nothing. It was precisely at that moment, I couldn't find anything to say again. Fear coated every fiber in my body. Not again. What if I said the wrong thing and messed up everything? Three years of waiting wasted just because I didn't know how to talk to girls.
I took a deep breath. I was being stupid. Mia was there, with me. She was probably nervous too. So, I let out a shaky breath and grabbed her hand, praying she wouldn't notice how hard I was shaking.
Confidence was key.
"So as it turns out" I said, leading her towards the garage, "My dad happens to have a copy of the Macbeth movie on VCR."
Mia laughed, "People still own VCRs?"
I hit the garage door clicker and let go of her hand. An hour before Mia had gotten there, I ran out and bought candy, threw some popcorn in the microwave, and stole all of the softest blankets in the house. I had tons of movies set up on my TV in case she wanted to watch another one after Macbeth. So whether Mia liked comedies, dramas, or scary movies, I was locked and loaded. I thought there was no way I could mess this up. But to my horror, my mom found a way.
"Mom!" I hissed.
Lying on the couch, her hair was knotted and mascara smeared. I guess what Madame Gem said had really gotten to her because she hadn't gone to work since.
"What?" She grumbled, rubbing her eyes, making her raccoon syndrome worse.
I looked at Mia. She stared at my mom with concern.
"Oh, Jake!" She gasped, launching up, "Your date! Mia hi hello."
She attempted to fake a smile, but let out a hiccup instead.
"Mom!" I snapped. "It's not a date... we're working on a school project."
Mia chuckled softly, "Hi, Mrs. Morrow."
"Chikako, but call me Chika." My mom scrambled up.
She ran over to us and dragged us to where she was sprawled before.
"Sit, sit." She huffed, "God I am so sorry Jake. I ruined everything not everything but well you know. Let me make this up to you!"
I tuned her out, rubbed my temples, and wished I was anywhere but there. Sure, I felt bad for my mom, but it wasn't like she didn't have a breakdown every other week. I once saw her cry after she dropped a sandwich on the floor. I looked at Mia again, she was on her phone. My stomach dropped, she was probably texting her friends complaining about how lame I was. My phone buzzed, startling me.
MIA @ 7:13-
should we therapy the shit outta your mom?
And then a moment later.
MIA @ 7:13-
excuse my french ;)
JAKE @ 7:14-
im sorry she's here...
MIA @ 7:14-
are you kidding? this is the most fun I've had since i moved here.
Macbeth never even made it on to the television. Instead, we let my mom vent about the fortune teller, her marriage, and how she hated her job. It felt like watching one of those TV shows that came on during the afternoon that bored housewives turned on. Yet we still listened and texted inside comments in between.
"And I just thought we would be together forever." She wailed, "I'm so, so..."
"Naive?" I suggested.
She hiccuped a little.
MIA @ 7:45-
okay this is getting kinda old. follow my lead >:)
"Mrs. Mo- Chika," Mia smiled, "Jake promised he would get me home by eight."
"Oh God!" My mom sniffed, "I've ruined your date- I mean study session. Jake take her home. And Mia, you're lucky to have this one, please give him a second chance. He's just such a great kid, I was truly blessed with such an ange -"
"Mom," I cut her off, "We get it, I'm gonna get her home."
I took Mia's hand again, and watched as my mom hesitantly opened her mouth to say something, I flashed her a look begging her to not mess everything up anymore than she already hard. Either she was psychic or she actually knew to stop talking.
Instead of blubbering on, she watched Mia and I slip underneath the closing garage door, barely making it through as it shut, and into the vast dark that Mia loved.
---
"Spill." Wyatt demanded, pounding his fist on the table.
I glanced around the busy cafeteria to make sure no one was listening. But then I remembered that the lunch table cliche about nerdy people was true, no one sat near them, with them, or around them. But a piece of me wanted someone to hear. I wanted someone to know that I went on a date with Mia James, but also maybe not. If it got out and embarrassed her, would she leave me? I knew if even a whisper of that rumor got out about Mia, people would talk.
"So um," I started to say, but stopped feeling uncomfortable by the way Wyatt looked at me.
It sorta reminded me of a vulture waiting for a bunny to die.
I did not like being the bunny.
I took a deep breath, "We ended up at Green Acres..."
---
"Do you actually need a ride home?" I asked, raising a brow.
Mia giggled deviously, "No weirdo, my car's right there. Take me somewhere, anywhere."
"But what about Macbeth?" I asked, "We didn't get any work done."
She sighed, throwing her head back. "Do you always worry about school this much?"
I nodded.
"Take me somewhere only the locals know about." She raised an eyebrow. "And I will share with you my A plus project from my old school."
Gulping, I turned the key in the ignition and started the car. The heat blasted, Mia's hair rising from the air, and falling gently onto her shoulders. She turned the dial down and closed her eyes. I looked at her and smiled to myself.
"I like surprises." She whispered.
"So do I." I lied. In reality I liked knowing what a surprise was the second I found out there was one.
About five minutes later we arrived at Green Acres, a park that had become long obsolete with the rise of cell phones and video games, but still held a special place in my heart. It was where I spent every summer at camp, building bug houses and swinging with friends. After school sometimes, my friends and I would bring marshmallow guns and hide in the trees, shooting at each other.
"That's my elementary school." I broke the silence, "One time, Wyatt convinced me to bite this kid, and I got in school suspension for a day."
"You? Suspended?" Mia opened her eyes, "Wow. No offense, but you kinda give off narc vibes."
I laughed. "You don't think I know that? Reputations are stupid."
"You can change a reputation, just put yourself out there." Mia smiled.
I pulled into the entrance to the park, my car bouncing on the sea of rocks, "And how does one do that when Brandon fucking Roberts has everyone calling me Joke?"
Mia rolled her eyes. "He calls you that cause you let him."
It wasn't like I could punch the kid, I was taller than him, but he had more muscle in his baby toe than I had in my entire body.
"Over there," I pointed, changing the subject "Me and my friend Grayson would catch frogs and play secret spy."
"Grayson Smith?" She asked, "The football player?"
I nodded. "I've been friends with him for over a decade."
I parked my car near the baseball field and turned to face her, her grassy green eyes meeting my stare. It was as if they were glow in the dark or something, the way they burned away the darkness. I could talk about her eyes for hours...
"What's first?" Mia smiled.
I melted in my seat, "So, um swings?"
She was out of the car before I could even open my door. Let the records show I have never seen someone so excited to go to on a playground at eight o'clock at night. Let me rephrase, I have never seen a seventeen year old girl so excited to go on a playground at eight o'clock at night.
I had never been so grateful for the darkness, the way it hid the pink tint in my cheeks and my flaming red ears. She mounted the nearest swing and started pumping her legs, her cream colored jeans looking like two white sticks against the black sky.
"Let's see who can jump the farthest!" She challenged.
That was one of many times I thought she would be the death of me.
"On the count of three."
"One."
"Two."
"Three!"
For the first time that night, I wasn't focused on Mia, but my immediate death as I landed face first in a pile of wood chips. Mia, I assumed, landed perfectly, ran to my rescue, pulled me up from the ground and held my face in her hands. We sat there, frozen, her eyes burning into mine. I forgot everything, where we were, who I was, what I would be.
She let go of my face and sighed. "You really can't stick a landing huh?"
I shook my head. "I actually did pole vault in middle school."
She raised an eyebrow. "You?"
I laughed. "I know, I seem like a klutz. But before I got all tall and weird, I was pretty athletic."
"Tall and weird?" She laughed. "That's a good way to describe you, Morrow. Come on, let's climb the rock wall."
Mia lunged up from the ground, pulling me up with her and dragged me to the rock wall. It may have only been ten feet off the ground, but halfway up, I thought I was gonna fall and break both my legs. Yet Mia was already at the top grinning at me with that undeniable smile that rendered me useless from saying no. I will not going to confirm or deny if she helped me down the wall.
She held my foot and laughed, "How are you afraid of heights? You're like a skyscraper?"
"Just get me down before I die!" I wheezed.
"Jump!" She demanded.
Without thinking,I shut my eyes tightly and let myself fall. As I fell for that brief half of a second fall, I realized I was only a foot from the ground. The fear was in my head. When you fear living and life itself, even the smallest mounds can seem like mountains. It took just one person to remind you it was a mound.
Mia leaned in close to me and whispered,"Let's go back to your car."
---
"So then what happened?" Wyatt pressed.
I shook my head, "I'm not really sure."
I inadvertently touched my lip again.
"You kissed her!" He accused.
I narrowed my eyes, "Why does it matter if I did?"
Wyatt took a massive bite from his apple and chewed, "Because I'm just trying to figure out like... why she would."
"Because she likes me?" I tensed.
I laid my face down on the sticky table and tried to ignore Wyatt.
"Maybe she's using you to make Brandon jealous," Wyatt thought aloud, "That's my current hypothesis."
I could feel my cheeks start to burn. I was trying to stay calm. I was used to Wyatt being a robot, he could never tell when he took a joke going too far. But when he brought Mia into it, well that changed everything.
"Or," He continued, "She truly hit rock bottom."
My face was getting hotter by the second.
"Maybe she's just using you for something, but I can't imagine why. What do you have, a beat up red truck? A crumbling home life?" Wyatt continued to puzzle.
I was seeing red, bright crimson blistering bloody red.
"Enough!" I yelled, the neighboring tables hushed to listen, "Why can't you just be happy for me? Maybe she genuinely likes me!"
Wyatt rolled his eyes and took another bite from his apple, "Don't be so naive, Jake."
"Why is it so hard to believe that Mia might like me back?" I seethed.
"I just don't want you to get hurt. And think logically, it doesn't make sense." Wyatt jeered.
"What does logic have to do with love?" I asked.
"Love?" He sneered, "You've really lost it. That girl will never love you, she's shallower than a kiddie pool. Whatever man, go get hurt see if I care, but don't go crawling back to me when it happens."
The entire cafeteria shifted their attention to the two nerds arguing. Personally, I thought we looked tough, but it was probably the equivalent of two kittens wrestling.
I rose from my seat, "Sorry that I want to feel love, to feel loved! Maybe if you weren't such a robot, you'd see."
I stormed out of the cafeteria and into the hall. Hot angry tears brimmed my eyes, obscuring my vision. The blue lockers blurred with the cement walls. I stumbled blindly and tried to make sense of what had just happened. Why did I snap? It had been years since I had blown up, I thought I had it under control.
Sometimes, my own anger scared me. It snuck up on me as quickly as it disappeared.
As my head started to cool down, I felt my body crash into a giant.
"Oh man, sorry!" A familiar voice laughed.
I sat up and rubbed my head, "Grayson?"
He chuckled and shook his moppy dirty blonde hair out of his gray eyes, "Sorry, Jake. I thought you saw me. Were you trying to truck me? Cause I weigh way more than you."
Grayson weighed much much more than me, but he wasn't not fat, he just had some baby chub and a kinda round face like his dad. He was super muscular and athletic. In elementary school, he would be the first in a game of dodgeball and protect me from bullies wielding rubber balls of death at my head. Scratch that, he still protected me in high school gym. He towered over everyone and had to duck every time he entered a doorway.
I scrambled up to my feet, "Sorry I'm just..."
"In a mood?" He guessed.
I nodded.
"When are you not in a mood?" He smiled.
"I'm eternally doomed to die unhappy." I moaned.
I tried to walk past him, but the he grabbed both my shoulders and held me in place.
"Woah woah woah," Grayson chimed, "Are you okay?"
He squinted, "Your eyes are all like red and your mouth is pointing the wrong way."
"It's called a frown nimrod." I rolled my eyes.
Grayson's happiness was unbearable sometimes.
"Achey Jakey," He sang, "Tell Uncle Grayson what's wrong."
"I'm like four months older than you."I tried to walk away, but Grayson raised me up towards the ceiling, my feet dangling.
"Talk." He warned with a devious smile, "Or I'll tell your mom."
"Don't be juvenile." I snapped.
But then I remembered, if my mom found out, I'd have to spend at least three hours talking it out. One hour dedicated to her trying to get info out of me, another attempting to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal, and then the last hour accepting I would have to talk, followed by a hug. It seldom made me feel better.
Thanks Grayson.
"Wyatt," I let out a shaky breath, "Thinks Mia James is using me. She came over to watch Macbeth and we had like the best time."
"Aw buddy," Grayson cooed, wrapping me in a suffocating hug, "Anyone would be lucky to have you."
"Okay mom." I wheezed.
"Oops sorry," He set me back on the ground, "Jeez I haven't talked to Wyatt since freshman year. But he's your best bud, you need to make things right, even if it means being the bigger person."
"Easy for you to say," I said ruffling his hair. Then I added, "Thanks Gray."
I started to walk away before Grayson called, "Wait, Jake!"
"Yes?" I turned around.
"I'm not agreeing with Wyatt." He twiddled his thumbs, "But do be careful with Mia. It would kill me to see you get hurt. If she hurts you, I don't wanna have to beat someone up."
I patted his back, "Whatever you say you big dumb pacifist."
Grayson ambled toward the cafeteria.
The moment was brief, but I felt that swirling anger in my chest again, like a ball of fire I just could not extinguish. It was a dangerous type of fury, the kind that hid deep inside my core and ate away at my bones, my blood, my mind, until it was the only thing I could think about.
I felt my face heating up again at the thought of Wyatt.
And then, it was as if someone had thrown water on me and saved me from my own anger.
Mia.
She bounced over to me, her curls springing up and down. I would never forget that smile, the smile that told me Wyatt was wrong.
She stopped about a foot from me and cocked her head, "What's wrong with you."
I tried to keep my composure, "Nothing."
It was literally impossible to keep anything from her.
"Spit it out." Mia urged.
I opened my mouth, but the warning bell rang and lunch periods were gonna pass soon.
Mia must have read my face because she grabbed my arm and headed toward the main entrance.
"Where are we going?" I worried, "I have anatomy."
"Skipping." She answered bluntly, pulling me toward the parking lot.
The anger subsided to fear.
"No," I begged, "What if we get caught."
She stopped abruptly and I nearly toppled over her.
"Good, now let's get back to cla-"
"No," Mia whipped around to face me."Last night you went on and on about reputations. So prove everyone wrong. Skip a damn class, smoke some pot, do something. Live a little, Morrow."
I swallowed. She was right.
---
My car puttered into the driveway two hours earlier than it would normally get home. Mia's green Mini Cooper silently followed behind me. I let out a shaky breath. I was going to be alone with her, just me, just her, in my garage.
I turned the ignition off and closed my eyes.
There was a knock on my window.
I jumped, then rolled down the glass dividing me from Mia.
She laughed, "Why are you so skittish?"
I smiled weakly, "Why are you so scary?"
"Come find out."
---
"What's your favorite color?" I asked Mia, toying with a loose thread in the couch.
"Hmm," She thought, "I like bright green, nearly neon."
I laughed. "Ew. Neon is so... bright."
She punched my arm and laid her head on my shoulder.
She flipped herself over, her head hanging upside down. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Neon shouldn't be a color, neither should brown or orange." I explained, pulling a thread out of the couch.
"Excuse me? What did they ever do to you?" Mia smiled.
"They exist." I muttered.
I was grateful Mia convinced me to skip. If I could capture one moment and live in it, it would be sitting in my garage with her. I would replay that moment over and over again in my head.
Occasionally there would be this silence. It didn't bother me, but it bothered her. Whenever there was a silence, she would ask a deep brooding question that always threw me off.
"Why do you get angry?" She asked when the silence returned.
I thought for a moment.
I tried to pinpoint an exact reason, but the honest answer was: I didn't know. Most days, I felt passive, like a could drifting across the blue. But on the rare occasion, I would snap and I wouldn't even recognize myself or even like myself.
"I saw your meltdown in the cafeteria," Mia continued, "Were you mad at me?"
I took a deep breath, it was time to be brave. "Not mad at you. I guess mad at myself. I've had this crush on you for awhile now."
Silence.
She said nothing and let the silence enclose around us.
"I had a crush on you once too. I think three years ago." She said eventually.
My heart stopped. Once.
"In algebra?" I asked.
She nodded. "You were reading the Odyssey, I think."
I remembered reading that book. It took two weeks and I wrote about sea monsters for months.
"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked.
She laughed. "Morrow, it was a crush. Crushes come and go. We had a moment then."
"Well what about a moment now?" I asked.
She raised an eyebrow. "You are really trying to change your reputation, huh?"
"So is that a yes?"
She turned her face to meet mine. "Take me on a date then."
"Let's go somewhere then." I smiled.
"Are you sure you don't want to make up with Wyatt first?"
I sat up instantly.
"What?" The word rasped in my throat.
"I think you should make up with Wyatt," Mia repeated, "Friendship is important, don't let me come in between it."
At the mention of his name, my throat went tight.
"You?" I exclaimed, "It's more than that. Wyatt always shoots me down."
We sat on opposite sides of the couch, but it felt like miles and miles of stretching distance between us.
Mia nodded, "Tell him that, it'll fix your friendship."
"You don't get it." I sighed, "Would you like being friends with someone who constantly shuts you down?"
"Stop being so dramatic, you guys fought like two hours ago, you're acting like it's been years." Mia rolled her eyes.
I swallowed hard as the anger deep inside me rose.
Mia spoke steadily, "Stop being stubborn, I thought you were smarter than that."
"I have a 4.0 GPA" I exclaimed, "I have the parking spot to prove it. You're like all the way in the 60s in the senior lot."
Mia stared at me. I gulped. I definitely messed up.
She stood up and grabbed her bag.
"Where are you going?" I asked, the anger slithering back down my throat.
"Home," She said flatly, "Forget about the date. Crush gone."
I opened my mouth to stop her, but she was already out the door.