Wild Collision (Us 4)

Mia glances at the menu for a moment and sets it aside.

“What are you getting?” I ask.

“Omelet,” she answers, looking out the window.

I want her to look at me, I need to know she’s truly okay with what happened last night. I pray she’s only worried about her dad finding out.

I know it should be a concern of mine too, but I can’t bring myself to care. If I can’t care for myself then I should at least care because of how it affects the guys.

But last night … it was something I’ve never experienced before, and for that reason alone I can’t regret it at all.

She slowly swings her gaze my way, a small

smile tugging at her lips as if she knows what I’m thinking. She opens her mouth to speak, but before she can say anything the waitress is back. I silently curse at the intrusion, but give my order with a charming smile anyway. The poor waitress doesn’t know what’s transpired between us.

Once she’s gone, Mia and I sit in silence, looking at one another and waiting for the other to speak first.

I clear my throat and she winces. Lowering my voice I say, “Last night, please tell me you don’t regret it.”

She hesitates and then shakes her head. “No, I don’t.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, my whole body sagging with the release of tension.

“D-Do you?” she asks, her eyes downcast as she idly traces random shapes on the table, feigning she’s unbothered by her own question and my possible answer.

“Not at all,” I answer with surety. “It was…” I pause, unable to find the words to adequately describe what it was. Amazing, spectacular, out of the world, mind-blowing … they all sound ridiculous in my head so I refuse to voice them.

“Yeah, I know,” she says, putting me out of my misery.

She gives me a hesitant smile and I smile back. She squares her shoulders then, sitting up straight as if she’s shaking off any lingering embarrassment.

“So,” I begin and hesitate, “we’ve decided neither one of us regrets it, but where do we go from here?”

I know what I want, but I also know she might not be as sure as I am.

She shrugs her small shoulders. “I don’t know.” I start to deflate. “I guess we take it one day at a time and see where it goes.”

I perk up at her last words. “I’m okay with that.”

“Good.” She gives me a small smile. Every smile she aims my way is something precious I treasure—when someone as pure and kind as Mia deems you worthy of a glance, a smile, anything—you’re one lucky bastard.

“Here you go guys,” the waitress sets down our plates—three for me, one for Mia.

As the waitress walks away Mia stares in disbelief at all my food. “Are you seriously going to eat all of that?”

I start peppering my food. “Uh … yeah. I ordered it all for a reason.”

She shakes her head muttering, “Too much food,” under her breath.

“It takes a lot of food to look this good,” I joke, rubbing my flat stomach.

She takes the pepper from me, sprinkling some across her omelet. “Whatever you say.”

I dig into my food, eating faster than I should, but I feel as if I haven’t eaten in days, maybe even weeks. I ordered eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, biscuits and gravy—basically an entire smorgasbord.

It’s all delicious and Mia can barely lift her fork to her mouth as she watches me with … horror? Or is she impressed? I mean, she has a little brother, she should be used to how much a man can eat.

“Eat your food,” I command her around a mouthful. The last thing I need is her leaving hungry. I’ll feel super guilty and think about it all day instead of focusing on what’s happening in the studio like I should.