Page 11 of Becoming Mila
For a second, I feel guilty. But it’s not like I forgot my life here on purpose. I was just too young.
“Yeah, I’m back,” I tell Tori with an unconvincing smile.
“For good?”
“At least for the foreseeable future.”
Tori and Savannah exchange a look, using silent communication as their secret best-friend language, one that perhaps I’d understand if I’d actually grown up with them. But I didn’t.
Suddenly, a loud clattering echo rings out around the parking lot. I startle at the sound, then relax when I look over my shoulder to see Blake standing in the back of his truck, banging barbecue tongs against the floor of the truck bed. The buzz of voices trails off and everyone instinctively congregates in a semi-circle around Blake. Tori turns down the music to play as background noise.
“All right, guys, thanks for coming to the June tailgate,” Blake says, flopping down onto the truck bed and hanging his legs over the edge.
I haven’t figured out much of the group’s dynamics yet, other than the fact that Savannah and Tori are obviously best friends, but it seems Blake is the one in charge. He totally seems like the type who would be.
“Y’all can thank Barney for the cookout this time. Tori’s got the music. If anyone’s got beer, just don’t be a jackass and don’t drive home,” Blake tells the listening crowd, like a homeroom teacher delivering the morning announcements. It’s kind of fascinating how civilized this all is. “And some of you might have already noticed we have a new face here tonight.”
Oh, God, no.
Obviously, everyonehasalready noticed, because their gazes have all landed on me without Blake even having to point me out. I shrink into myself, hunching my shoulders and wishing I had a jacket to shield myself behind. Dad might love having all eyes on him, but I hate it.
“This is Mila,” Blake says, his twang clear and pronounced over the vowels in my name. His eyes lock on mine and I glower back, cheeks flaring with heat. I swear, just for a split second, he smirks as though he’s getting a kick out of embarrassing me like this. Then he blinks and looks away. “So, everybody make sure you make Miss Mila welcome.”
Miss Mila?I grit my teeth and glare at him even harder, wishing I could scorch him with the power of my eyes alone. What exactly is this guy’s problem? Because it sounds like he’s making fun of me for being here, which is ridiculous considering he doesn’t even know me. I only met him two minutes ago! Maybe I should have emphasized back in the truck that I’d like to fly under the radar, becausethisis not maintaining a low profile.
There’s a couplewhoops andhellyeahs as everyone returns to their conversations, though I notice a few lingering stares. . .Blake might not have said my last name, but I don’t think it will take a genius to make the connection.
Blake leans back on his hands, still perched on the tailgate of his truck. His eyes are on me again, focused through the crowd, lips curving into a crooked smile. There is devious amusement dancing in his gaze. There is no way he’s just being friendly by introducing me. I can see it written all over his face, the pleasure he takes in making me uncomfortable. . .
I glower straight back.
5
Savannah touches my arm in an attempt to get my attention. “Are you okay?” she asks.
I tear my eyes away from Blake and lock them on Savannah instead. “What’s the deal with your cousin?” I ask, my tone sharper than intended. “Is he, like, the captain of the football team or something? The student body president?”
Tori busts up with laughter and Savannah bites her lip to stop herself from joining in, the two of them sharing one of those knowing glances that I can’t understand. Tori excuses herself to get back to her DJ duties, leaving Savannah to fiddle with her earrings in front of me. I raise an eyebrow, prompting her for a reply.
“Our school is small, so we don’t really have cliques. Everyone is kind of friends with everyone,” she explains with a shrug, her gaze wandering off over my shoulder. “Blake is just good at getting things done and making sure things run smoothly, so he tends to be at the forefront of stuff like this.” She scoffs quietly. “It’s kind of in his blood.”
Okay, good. So, I can go talk to him without fear of getting on the wrong side of Fairview High’s top dog, since there isn’t one, apparently. Which I don’t buy for a second. In what worlddoes a high school hierarchy not exist?
“Thanks. I’ll be right back,” I tell Savannah, then spin on my heels and stalk off.
Blake’s still in the back of his truck, bent over a cooler and rummaging through its contents. I stop by the side of the truck, then knock my knuckles hard against the paintwork to get his attention. He glances over but doesn’t straighten up.
“Miss Mila?” I challenge, crossing my arms over my chest. I feel patronized and, therefore, defensive. I don’t think it’s cool for a complete stranger to call meMiss Mila, and I don’t believe either that it’s down to southern etiquette.
“Well, you’re not married, are you?” Blake says matter-of-factly, finally straightening up from the cooler having retrieved a can of Dr Pepper. “YouareMiss Mila. I simply assumed that you’re addressed with a title.”
“Are you messing with me?”
Blake pops the tab of his soda and gives me a flippant, disinterested glance. “Now why would you think that?” He takes a sip, exhales loudly, then awaits a response from me.
“Because I didn’t want to beaddressedor introduced. And especially not asMiss Mila.”
“Oh, I’msorry.Would you have preferred to have been introduced as Mila Harding, the daughter of that guy. . . What’s his name again?” Mockingly, he cups a hand to his ear and angles toward me, listening for a reply that never comes. “No, I didn’t think so.”
