She wasn’t holding her breath anymore. God, no. It whooshed out of her on a long, shivery sigh.
Oh, how she wanted exactly that. Wanted him. Wanted all the things his smile promised.
But she still didn’t know where to begin. And if she kept looking at the desire in his eyes, desire he made no attempt to hide, she really would pull the fifteen-year-old-girl move—hop into his lap, smash their mouths together, and shove her hand down his pants so she could wrap her fingers around the hungry column of flesh he’d been sporting in his jeans all evening.
Another thing he’s made no attempt to hide.
Blame it on her lack of experience when it came to the art of seduction. Blame it on her nervousness because, come on, this was Romeo sitting beside her. Romeo with his perfect face and his perfect body and his oodles of lovers. But suddenly she heard herself admitting, “You know how I told you my voice sounds this way because my vocal cords were injured when I was little?”
When a line appeared between his eyebrows, she silently chided herself. Shut up, Mia! What are you doing?
She was ruining a perfectly lovely, perfectly romantic, perfectly sexy moment. And why? Why?
She didn’t know. All she knew was she couldn’t stop herself. “It’s because I was intubated for three days when I was seven years old. I got into my mother’s pain pills and overdosed. The tube they used on me in the hospital was too big or something because—”
“Sweet Mother Mary,” he cursed, and she saw a muscle working in his jaw.
Gone was the hungry look in his eye. It’d been replaced by a lethal gleam. Gone were the soothing circles his thumb had been rubbing on the back of her hand. Now his fingers were tight around hers. And gone was that lovely, anticipatory hum of excitement. It’d been replaced by a hard, sharp sort of tension that crackled like a downed electrical line.
It’s official. Moment ruined. Way to go, Mia, you dumbass!
“That woman should be jailed for her incompetence as a parent,” he finished on a vehement snarl that had a vein popping out in his forehead.
Mia turned to look at the horizon. The sky had faded from vibrant graffiti art into a pastel palette of pinks and purples and blues.
I could keep my mouth shut, she contemplated as a sickening sensation swirled in her gut. I could let him think all the blame rests solely on Mom’s shoulders.
As quickly as she had the thought, she discarded it. She couldn’t tell him everything, of course. But she could tell him what had started her down the path to hell, and maybe that would be enough.
Enough to what? The question rang inside her head as clear as the bells at the Holy Name Cathedral in downtown Chicago.
Enough to satisfy this need I have to share more of myself with him than I’ve ever shared with anyone.
Enough to make this thing we’re about to do feel like more than a simple fling.
Enough to...release some of the weight that comes with carrying around so much unspoken guilt.
“Save some of that disdain and contempt for me. I’m not completely innocent,” she whispered.
She could feel he’d cocked his head even though she wasn’t looking at him. Even though she couldn’t look at him when she admitted this next part.
“I wasn’t the only one I hurt with those pills.” Her voice was little more than a breath of wind. “I gave some to my baby brother too.” That sick sensation swirling in her gut became a whirlpool of nausea. “It nearly killed him. I nearly killed him.”
A long moment passed without Romeo saying anything. So long, in fact, she peeked over at him, not surprised to find his eyes glued to her face. They narrowed slightly when he asked, “Why?”
She chuffed out a humorless laugh. “That is the question, isn’t it? My dad always assumed I did because I thought they were candy.”
“Why would you have thought that?”
“Because that’s what my mother told me they were.”
“Your mother.” He spat the two words as if they were poison.
She wasn’t sure why, but it caused a memory to bloom to life inside her head…
Momma sat at her vanity in a short, shiny robe that Mia desperately wanted to touch. But she didn’t dare. The last time she’d tried, her mother had slapped her hand away, hard, saying, “Keep your sticky fingers off me! You’ll ruin it!”
Instead, Mia moved out of reach of the robe’s temptation and crawled onto her parents’ big bed. Lying on her belly, she propped her chin in her hand and watched her mother use a fluffy-looking ball on her nose.
“What’s that, Momma?” She knew her mother liked to talk about the things she did while sitting at her special makeup desk.
“It’s powder,” her mother said. “It keeps my nose from being shiny.”
“Your nose isn’t shiny,” Mia offered obediently. “Your nose is beautiful.”
Momma smiled at her in the mirror and Mia felt a little flutter in her stomach. She’d done well. She’d said the right thing.
So often she didn’t say the right thing, and then Momma would yank her up by the wrist and throw her out of the room before slamming the door in her face.
Feeling a little more confident, she ventured, “Will you do lipstick next?”
“Mmm.” Her mother nodded. “Which color should I choose?”
“Pink!” Mia crowed immediately, knowing her mother’s favorite color was pink.
“Perfect choice.” Momma pulled a tube of lipstick from the row of lipsticks lined up atop the vanity.
When her mother swiped the color over her lips and then smacked them together, Mia knew just what to say. “Now your lips are beautiful too.”
Momma’s eyebrows pinched together, and Mia felt an answering pinch in her chest. “Now they’re beautiful? They weren’t beautiful before?” Her mother’s voice had taken on a tone that Mia knew all too well. The pinch in her chest became more of a twisting sensation. Like someone had grabbed her heart and was trying to wring it out like a wet washcloth.
She swallowed, not knowing what to say to make things right.
“You’re always beautiful, Momma,” she tried, and then felt like she could breathe again, like her heart could beat again, when her mother’s brow cleared.
She stayed quiet while Momma clipped on earrings and messed with one particular lock of shiny, auburn hair that didn’t seem to want to stay in place. When it finally did, and her mother dipped her chin in satisfaction, Mia asked her, “Where are you going tonight?”