Savior

Five: Mia

"Seriously? You can't answer the fucking door?" I asked frustratedly as I walked out of the bathroom, trying to wrap my hair in a towel. "You're sitting right fucking there."

"I'm in the middle of something."

"Jesus Christ," I groaned under my breath as I tightened my silk robe around my waist and headed for the door that was STILL being pounded on. I yanked it open to find Wes and his big blue eyes staring back at me. "What in the hell are you doing here?"

"We need to talk," he stated, his voice way more subdued than I expected.

"How did you..."

"I stopped by the club. Talked to Jazz..."

"I'll fucking kill her," I sighed, before opening the door a bit wider. "Come on in. Marcus, this is Wes."

My idiot boyfriend simply waved as he stared at the television. "Nice to meet..." As he finally looked up at Wes, he froze. "Holy shit... you're Wes Price..."

"Yep," Wes nodded, his face appearing a bit uncomfortable.

"What in the hell are you doing here?"

I suddenly saw the perfect opportunity for a bit of torture. "I'm gonna get dressed. Why don't you two... get to know each other?"

Wes's eyes widened in horror as Marcus just continued talking. "Man, you totally flubbed my 2019 fantasy team up for me. I had you going all the way..."

I couldn't hide my entertainment as I headed back to the bedroom to find clothes. I was definitely about to take far longer to get dressed than was necessary.

"Took you twenty minutes to put on a Tshirt and shorts?" Wes practically snarled as we headed out onto the balcony.

"Sorry. Couldn't find the right outfit," I responded, giggling behind my wine glass.

"Your man's kind of..." His voice trailed off, as if he was deciding just how rude he was going to be.

"Kind of what?"

"A fucking dumbass," he finished, obviously deciding to go full jackass. "What the fuck are you doing with him?"

"Excuse me?"

"Mia, seriously," Wes continued, "that guy's like... a four at best. You're a fucking twelve..."

"Did you really come here to discuss my relationship?" I retorted. "Because as far as I'm concerned, it's not your fucking business."

"You could do better..."

"You don't even know him."

"Mia..."

"Wes, get to the point or go, alright? I'm not in the fucking mood."

I watched his chest inflate as he took a deep breath. "Why didn't you tell Bill?"

"I haven't yet. Doesn't mean I won't."

"Mia..."

"Look, I told you what I needed from you at the very beginning of this. You knew I wasn't going to take your normal shit, and yet you did it anyway."

"I didn't mean to..."

"How do you not MEAN to get too hammered to remember your obligations?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest. "How do you not MEAN to go out and get so obliterated that you forget your promises?"

"I didn't even want to go out..."

"But you did."

"Channing convinced me, but... you don't have to worry about that anymore."

"What do you mean?"

He gulped. "I told him off tonight, on my way over here." He sniffed and looked up at me, his face riddled with more emotion than I had ever seen out of him. "I can't do this anymore, Mia. I'm fucking exhausted. I'm stuck... in this fucking cycle and... I don't want to be this person. I really don't. And... I'm sorry I disappointed you... again... I just..."

"Wes, stop," I interrupted. "This doesn't have anything to do with college..."

"But it does," Wes argued, "because this is what I've done... my entire fucking life. And it isn't what I want anymore. I don't want to be a joke. I don't... want to be this... drunken, idiotic playboy that the world thinks I am. That isn't who I am..."

"I know it isn't, Weston. I've seen the real you."

He gulped again and looked at the ground, before his eyes looked up at me from under the dark ridge of his brows. "Is the real me good enough for the world?" he asked with a self-deprecating laugh.

I smiled weakly. "Of course, it is. Real Wes was Mousy Mia's favorite part of school."

He chuckled a bit. "Mousy Mia probably should question her taste."

"Nah, I think Mousy Mia had you pegged just right," I smiled. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. "Look, I won't talk to Bill. I'll give you one more chance..."

"Thank you..."

"But this is it, Weston. No more stunts."

"I promise."

"I think... I think it'd probably be best if you kept your distance from Channing for a while."

"I plan on it," Wes stated. "I don't... I don't think he wants to see me right now anyway." He swallowed and leaned against the balcony railing behind him. "So, what do we do?"

"I already talked to the hospital. I told them you were sick, and they offered to reschedule for Friday."

"Yes!" he exclaimed, clenching his fist and giving a little pump. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, Wes."

"I promise I won't let you down. Not again."

The blue of his eyes shone with such glowing affection that it almost knocked the wind out of me. Suddenly, I was Mousy Mia again, staring at the dreamy jock that loved Shakespeare as much as she did and made her laugh by putting pencils under his lips and clapping like a walrus. The boy that made her want to go to that stupid party and kiss him under the starlight and live life like it was some goddamn fairytale.

I think he was just as momentarily disoriented as I was because when I finally snapped back to Earth, he was standing directly in front of me, like some sort of magnet had pulled us together. He was practically looming over my 5'5" frame and God, I liked the feel of him in my space. The energy, the chemistry crackling between us. I couldn't be the only one that felt it.

"Wes..."

"Mia..."

"Babe, your phone won't stop ringing," Marcus stated, suddenly appearing in the doorway.

Wes and I jumped apart and I started smoothing out my clothes as if we had actually done something wrong. "Who is it?"

"Jazz." Marcus held the phone, still ringing, out to me. He wasn't phased. He wasn't so much as a jilted or upset... he didn't even fucking notice. A 6'3", gorgeous hunk of a man was standing directly in front me, almost definitely about to kiss me, and he didn't even flinch.

"Thanks." I took the phone out of his hand just as it stopped ringing and he simply turned and headed back into the apartment.

Wes's chest was rising and falling rapidly. "I should go."

"Yeah. Yeah, you should."

"Call me later... with the details, yeah?"

"Yep."

He slapped the edge of the door and turned back toward me for a moment. "Goodnight, Mia."

"Goodnight, Wes."

I watched him walk away and then practically collapsed with the force of the breath I released. Suddenly working with Weston Price seemed like a terrible idea for a completely different reason than it had originally. I was screwed.