Page 28 of Crash & Burn

My heart is beating in a way it hasn’t since high school, and I feel a flutter in my stomach as Eddie’s smirk widens to a wicked grin that makes my knees weak. Any tension that was growing in my shoulders is gone, and all traces of anger have subsided. My brain must be short-circuiting because I’m no longer thinking of guitar lessons. My mind is clouding with thoughts of how Eddie and I would be a match made in hell.

With each moment that passes, my thoughts begin to clear, and I’m left with the sole question of how did I go this long not noticing how sad Eddie’s eyes are up close.

A door slamming shut out in the hallway snaps me back into reality.

MIA, WHAT THE HELL?

On instinct, I drop my eyes to the floor as if I just saw Eddie naked, and side-step him, rounding the island to not only put distance between us, but a whole counter becausewhat. Was. That?

One second, I’m getting pissed at his inability to mind his own business, and the next I am basically melting at his feet. Lucky for me, I’ve never been one to show my emotions on my face, and I am incredibly thankful that I put on a hoodie before he came over because I feel heat creep up my chest, and even my neck, proving to myself that Eddie has an influence over me that I must get under control.

I avoid his gaze because I can feel his eyes on me, and I don’t know what will happen if I look at him again.

“Anyway,” I fake nonchalance even though it’s quite possible my heartbeat can be heard across the kitchen as I let out an exhale.

Breathe,Mia.

This is just an intense physical reaction to a situation that is out of my control. My body is reacting to an unprecedented circumstance, like a panic attack. My body is just reacting to the environment.

Breathe.

“Like I said,” I continue as I idly mess with my sweatshirt strings, “don’t worry about the lessons. Thanks for agreeing to do them in the first place, but I don’t need them.”

I tie the string in a bow before looking up to find Eddie watching me, leaning back against the sink with his arm crossed. His smirk is still painted on his handsome face, but I’m not as affected by it from afar apparently.

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to look at me, so I fill the silence. “I’m sure Mateo appreciates having a friend like you who is willing to help out his sister.”

“You know, I can beyourfriend, too.”

What?

Is this a joke?

This must be a game to him.

But joke’s on him, because I don’t want to play.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to pretend I’m anything but Mateo’slittlesister.” I emphasize the word “little” making it clear that I overheard him earlier this morning.

Eddie’s smirk slightly fades from his face. “Mia, I didn’t mean anything by that. You’re going to be spending a lot of time with the band as the photographer, and I’m here if you need a friend.”

I do need a friend, but I also know that it isn’t a good idea to be friends with Eddie.

But, against my better judgment, instead of saying “no thanks,” I find myself saying, “okay,” even if I am still apprehensive about his motives.

“Great. So, because we’re friends, I feel like I can ask you something I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now.”

I knew this was a bad idea. Is he going to circle back to the guitar lessons thing? Why does he care so much about why I asked for lessons? Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to tell him about Nico’s song. Eddie’s a musician, maybe he could help. He writes songs, so maybe he could help me figure out the song that is permanently stuck in my head and makes music unbearable.

“Okay.”

“Did you know you spilled coffee on your sweatshirt?”

I look down, and sure enough. My favorite white hoodie has three brown splotches across the front of it.

“Ugh, this is my favorite sweatshirt, and you waited until right now to tell me.” Slightly annoyed for more reasons than one, I pull the sweatshirt off over my head because I don’t want the stain to set.

I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting with an embarrassingly large stain across my stomach, and now I am left in just a tank top. “When did this even happen?” I rhetorically ask as I walk back over to the sink to run the stain under water.

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