Page 23 of Under Pressure

I don’t hold my mom blameless for her part in their divorce by any means, but if he had focused more on her happiness to begin with, maybe she wouldn’t have been tempted to stray.

Then again, I wouldn’t exist now, so I guess it is what it is.

“Barf,” Riley mutters under her breath as Mom and Dan kiss.

“Agreed.”

“You don’t do that with girls, do you?” She squints up at me, tomato sauce all over her mouth. “Kiss them all mushy-like?”

I grab a napkin and gently wipe her face. “No, I don’t do that.”

Except with Mia, apparently. She’s the only girl I can recall kissing like that. Without it leading to sex. For no other reason than because I wanted to, caught up in the moment, no clear idea of where it was heading or what was happening.

Or what the aftermath of it would be.

After dinner, Dan suggests we all play Monopoly, like we’re some kind of 1950s family playing wholesome games. I decline, making my excuses, and head home.

I keep the music off on the drive back, silently reflecting on the day. Mia mentioned an Anti-Valentine’s Day event at Element on Friday. That sounds more up my alley than hers. Maybe I’ll have to check it out. Purely in support of boycotting an overly commercialized holiday.

Not for any other reason.

* * *

Banners of black hearts with arrows through them decorate the club, Def Leppard’sLove Bitesplaying overhead. They really took the theme to an extreme.

It’s genius marketing, though. Invite everyone who’s sad about not having a date out to the same place where they can get wasted and hook up with each other.

Not that I’m sad. I’ve purposely never had a date for Valentine’s Day. Not even a hookup. I don’t need a girl getting the wrong idea about us.

So why am I here tonight?

I push that thought aside, the same way I did when filling out that stupid journal for Motivation I have to keep. If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t want to know the reason.

I glance around, plenty of girls eyeing me as I check my coat at the door. Good lord, they’re practically licking their lips. Tonight’s the wrong night to be out.

I’m not interested in them, though. I’m interested in finding one particular girl. One with a riot of brown curls, ranging from cocoa to caramel. One with soft, gray eyes and a smile as sweet as the desserts she makes.

I stop in my tracks. Jesus Christ, am I waxing poetic? What has one measly kiss done to me? Is it only because I know her? Because we’re… friends? Are we friends? I don’t know. I’ve never had a female friend before. Not really many guy ones either.

Besides, none of this even matters. It was just a helping kiss. Right?

I don’t examine it too closely, making my way to the bar to grab a beer.

And right there at the end of the long, wooden counter is Mia, in her normal sweater and jeans, nothing frilly about her compared to some of the other girls here, decked out in clubwear despite the theme of tonight and low temperature outside.

She’s sipping some kind of pink drink in a martini glass, staring off into space. She turns her head slightly, making eye contact with me, and almost chokes on her drink.

“What are you doing here?” she asks as I approach her, wiping her chin with the back of her hand.

I raise my brows at her. “What, you don’t think I belong here among the others that hate Valentine’s Day?”

She gives me a small smile. “You’re right. It’s so you.”

I motion to the bartender for a beer, then consider her. “It actually doesn’t seem like something you’d do.”

She gazes down at her drink, swirling it around. “Well, it beats sitting at home alone on Valentine’s Day.” She looks up at me, a rueful smile on her face. “I figured you just told Dr. Price you didn’t have plans to avoid explaining your whole ‘fuck buddy’ arrangement.”

A bark of laughter escapes me and I hand the bartender a five as he gives me a bottle, then take a sip. “I haven’t had one of those in a while.”

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