Page 67 of Selling Out
“She wants to stay for the rest of the tour and work remotely. Just has to clear it with her boss first.”
I give Paul a noogie. “I’m happy for you, man.”
“Oh,” he says. “Someone dropped off a bag for you.” He indicates a brown sack on the table.
I frown and stick my hand inside, pulling out the first thing it touches. I hold it out with both hands. It’s a white t-shirt, but I can see some design on the other side, so I turn it around.
The entire front side is covered with a caricature illustration of abs—hairy abs. My eye catches on the tag, and I turn it over.
Thought this might come in handy.
Smiling, I reach into the bag and pull out something solid and long. It’s a belt.For peace of mind,the tag says. There’s a heart next to the words, and I rub my thumb over it, wondering if it was done as a matter of habit or intentionally.
“What’re those?” Paul asks as he pulls a shirt on.
I drop the tag and put them in the bag. “Nothing. Just a couple things I needed.”
And just like that, the funk is gone.
The morning ischaos as everyone gets things together for rehearsal at the venue. It’s one of the smaller ones on the tour, but I don’t mind. It’s nice to have a mixture of big and more intimate places. While the sound guys get everything hooked up and going, I go through wardrobe, feeling impatient to see Mia. I added my belt, and I’m hoping Victor won’t mind.
Who am I kidding? It’s the first thing he sees, and we argue back and forth for a couple minutes before he finally gives in.
Once we’re done, I hurry out of my dressing room and go in search of Mia. If I don’t see her now, I won’t get to talk to her alone until after she goes out with Noah. For some reason, it feels important that I see her before. I’m worried things will be different after.
I run into her coming out of the bathroom, and with a quick glance around, I grab her hand and tug her into the nearest closet, pulling the door almost all the way closed so only a strip of light streams in with us.
“What’re you doing?” she hisses.
We’re in some sort of janitorial closet, with boxes, different types of brooms and mops, the subtle scent of chemicals, and hardly any room for two humans.
“Saying thank you,” I reply. “For my shirt and belt.”
“Oh,” she says. “Yeah, it was dumb, but I couldn’t resist.”
“I loved it. The belt is officially part of my tour wardrobe. Victor drew the line at the t-shirt, though.”
“I’m surprised he said yes to the belt.”
“Oh, we fought about it. He probably won’t talk to me until Paris.” I shift closer to her, feeling that electricity I always dowhen I’m near her. “Thank you for thinking of me,” I say softly, running my hand along some of her hair. It’s soft and sleek.
I dip my head to kiss her, and she pulls back until her head hits the broomstick behind her. A game of janitorial dominoes starts, and both of us scramble to keep the entire room from crashing down.
Once things have settled, I face her, but she’s not looking at me. She’s straightening an already-very-straight mop.
“Mia?” The electricity between us is gone, and I think I know why. His name starts with N and rhymes with protozoa. “What’s wrong?”
She keeps avoiding my eye and re-situating that mop, and I pull her hand away from it. “The mop is good, Mia. What’s going on?”
She sighs and faces me. “We’ve talked about this, right? I’m not good at this whole secret friends-with-benefits thing. It might not be a big deal for you to sleep with a girl one night and kiss me the next, but I’m not up for that.”
I blink, completely lost. “Huh?”
She tilts her head at me like I’m being purposely dense. “She answered the door last night, Austin. When I came to bring the shirt and belt.”
I stare at her for a second, trying to follow her thought train. And then it hits me. “Mia, I wasn’t even there last night when you brought the bag. Daisy wasn’t there for me. She’s dating Paul.”
She searches my face—to see if I’m lying, I assume. It’s hard for me to believe she thinks I’d treat her the way she’s implying.
