My boy / Drew Starkey

38

Mila 

My head was spinning—what the hell was Rudy even asking me? What was he even talking about at this point? I took a long sip from my drink, the burn in my throat grounding me for a second before my eyes flickered back up.

But instead of looking at Rudy, I found myself looking at Drew. And he was already looking at me. His face was unreadable, but I swear, even in the dim lighting of the bar, I could see the slight flush on his cheeks. Was he blushing? Was it the alcohol? Was it me?

Everything around me kind of faded. I could see Rudy's mouth moving, but I couldn't hear a damn thing. It was like my brain had tuned out everything except for the way Drew was looking at me, the way my heart was fucking pounding, the way—

"Mila."

Madison's voice cut through my trance, snapping me back to reality.

"You listening?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

I blinked, shaking my head slightly before forcing a laugh. "Shit, yeah—sorry, I full-on just spaced out. Too many drinks."

I reached for my glass again, ignoring the way my hand was shaking slightly. Drew was still watching me. And I had no idea what the fuck to do about it.

I knew Rudy was just kidding, but why the hell couldn't I get it out of my mind? Drew, Rudy, and me. Us together. The thought clung to my brain like the last drops of whiskey in my glass, refusing to be swallowed down, refusing to disappear. It was stuck—sticky, lingering, intoxicating in a way that made my skin feel too tight.

The night didn't last much longer after that. Everyone had way too much to drink, and with filming early tomorrow morning, we knew we had to pull ourselves together. But it was fun. For the first time in a while, I felt loose, unbothered. I let myself sink into the warmth of the night, into the laughter, into the ease of just existing with these people.

Even if my mind was still tangled in places it shouldn't be.

--

The Uber ride home was quiet—too quiet. The kind of quiet that let my thoughts take over, pulling me under like waves that refused to let go. My head rested against the cool window, the city lights blurring together as the car moved through the streets. I could still feel the warmth of the bar, the weight of the night pressing against my skin. The laughter, the teasing, the reckless, easy energy of being drunk with people who knew me too well. Or maybe not well enough.

I let out a breath, watching it fog up the glass. My phone vibrated in my lap, but I didn't check it. Not yet. I already knew it was probably Madison, maybe even Rudy, making sure I got home okay. But Drew? Would he text me? Would he say something about the way we looked at each other tonight? Would he even acknowledge it at all?

I closed my eyes, Rudy's words echoing in my head. Too bad you have a girlfriend now, Drew. That was what Rudy had said. A joke. A harmless little jab that shouldn't have meant anything. But it did. It meant everything. Because for a second, just a split second, there was something in the way Drew looked at me—like the idea wasn't so far-fetched. Like he wasn't just entertaining the thought but actually feeling it, too. Like we both knew what wasn't supposed to be spoken out loud.

This is insane, I told myself, pressing my fingertips against my temples. It was just the alcohol messing with me. The atmosphere. The blurred lines of friendship and whatever the hell existed between me and Drew. And yet, I couldn't shake the memory of Rudy's voice, the casual way he said it. Like he didn't care. Like Mila and Rudy weren't some great love story waiting to happen. Best friends with benefits, he called it. That's what we were.