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Chapter 19 - Mixed Signals

I could see the distress written all over Fiza's face the second I pulled up—the tightness around her eyes, the way she hugged herself. I bit back the million questions fighting to get out. Now wasn't the time. I'd gotten the text, seen the location, and just moved. I'd even bypassed my bike, guessing she wouldn't be in the headspace for it, and taken my parents' car instead.

I started driving toward the college, assuming that's where she'd want to go, even though she'd long missed curfew. We'd figure something out.

But then her voice cut through the quiet car. "Can I stay over with you, please?"

I glanced over at her. The dim light from the dashboard caught the sheen of tears she was holding back, the elegant line of her neck, the red on her lips that usually wasn't there. She looked beautiful. And completely shattered.

I took a deep breath, slowly letting it out, trying to release the tension in my own gut—a mix of worry for her and a low, simmering anger at whatever had happened.

I nodded. "Yeah. Okay." I made a U-turn, pointing us toward home.

My mind drifted back to the crap Salman had been spouting with the guys. The way he'd talked about Fiza like she was just an easy lay. How he had suggested that she was done sleeping with me and was looking for an upgrade.

He couldn't comprehend that what I had with Fiza was... different. Real. "Sure, you're not sleeping with her, buddy. You're just 'friends'."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Fiza stealing glances at me. I knew I had a small smile on my face. Despite the awful night, she was here, with me, trusting me. And I'd gotten her away from him. I saw her mirror my smile, a little tentative, and a warmth spread through my chest.

That warmth chilled a little when I opened the front door. My mom was right there, waiting in the hallway, her face etched with anxiety. I'd been off all evening, and when I'd grabbed the car keys and bolted out without a word, I'd given her every reason to worry I'd backslid—that I was out chasing my old habits.

The sigh of relief that escaped her when she saw me walk in with Fiza was audible. Her eyes did a quick, maternal assessment of the situation. I knew what she was thinking. A good mother probably shouldn't be letting her son bring girls home. What would people say?

But then her gaze softened as it landed on Fiza. She knew everything was different because of the girl standing beside me. She had seen the color-coded timetable during one of her surprise room checks. She had seen the stability, the focus, the light that had come back into my life. She had seen me sober. She knew Fiza was the reason.

But the darkness wasn't completely gone. I knew that. She knew that.

"Leave the door wide open. And Fiza can use Alex's room."

A grin spread across my face. "Sure, ma," I replied easily. She'd turned a blind eye to far worse situations in the past.

I chuckled as I led Fiza to my room. She hovered near the door, looking a little lost. "Can I borrow a T-shirt?" she asked, her voice soft.

I kept my voice casual, though. "Sure!" I rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a soft, well-worn gray tee. I tossed it to her.

She caught it and smiled. "I have mad skills," she joked and then disappeared into the connected bathroom, closing the door behind her.

I stood there, listening to the faint sounds of her moving around, trying to process the whirlwind of the last hour. Then her voice chimed from behind the door, hesitant. "Ummm, Alan?"

The door opened a crack, and she peeked out. "Do you think your mom is still awake?"

I thought about it. I'd seen her go into her room and shut the door. "I'm not sure," I answered honestly. "Do you want me to check?"