Public Relations

Chapter 1: Mia

The biggest PR catastrophe of Brett Archer's life happens, unfortunately, while I am having hot and heavy sex with my Deaf neighbor.

Sean's dimly lit room smells of the vanilla candle burning beside us and the sweat accumulating on his back as he hovers over me. I grip his sheets, then his hair, then anything else I can reach. My eyes are closed in bliss when he gives me a light tap on my shoulder. He shifts upright, still inside me, but glancing at the side table. Phone, he signs. J-A-S-P-E-R. Work?

I swear under my breath, then. Later, I reply. Don't stop.

Looks serious. So many texts. He squints, leaning forward to read my screen. The adjustment pushes him deeper, and a small noise falls from my parted lips. Mia, there's 36 notifications. B-R-E-T-T texted too.

I cover my face with my hands, agreeing to receive my cell from him as he withdraws completely. Sean collapses on the bed next to me, his red hair tousled and damp. He watches me curiously.

What's wrong?

The texts from Jasper are frantic, misspelled and frequently incoherent, but they're also the most recent and the bulk of my incoming messages. He and Brett have likely been drunk for double digit hours, possibly days. I scroll to the top, imagining a foot sliced on the jagged glass of a broken bottle, or a cheating scandal, or perhaps something positive like a Teen Choice Award.

I get nothing of the sort.

Miami

Mia

Sry i go to miami alot

the babes arebanging theire

I roll my eyes and take a deep inhale. Jasper, the little airhead, is not my problem. Brett is my problem. Exhale.

Dont be mad at me but brett was arrested

punched a guy

the gyu also might been the senators son? lol

Sry not lol its bad obv but how was brett supposesd too know tha

that

Anyaway he's gonna call you from jailp probs

I pause, entertaining the idea that this is one big joke against me. The boys usually aren't smart enough to conspire together, to pull together any brilliance between the two of them, but maybe just this once it's a prank from them and not the universe. Sean presses a kiss to my collarbone, working his way out to my shoulder while I navigate to Brett's singular message to me.

Punched a guy. Had to be done. Will explain later.

Oh, spectacular.

I shoot Sean an apologetic look as I dial Jasper's number and sit up in bed, the sheets pooled at my hips. With the phone tucked under my ear, I sign, I think it's an emergency.

Sean, emitting the energy of a Greek god, all mountains of muscle and valleys of contour, responds with a gentle smile. He sits up with me, brushing a strand of my hair from my forehead with the gentle hands of someone I could never deserve.

No one manages emergencies like you. He holds my chin. Let's get you dressed.

My panties are by the bed, discarded last, but my bra and shorts are by the bedroom door. Jasper answers on the last ring, just as I step into my pajama shorts.

"Mia lady," he slurs into the phone. "We have an aggravated assault on our hands. Hey, do you like birds?"

I count backwards from five. I focus on three things in the room: the grandfather clock, the piles of books, the cat sleeping on the dresser. My toes curl slightly over the floor beneath me, and I concentrate on the fibers of the rug against my skin. Inhale. Exhale.