My boy / Drew Starkey

39

Mila

Before I could respond to Drew, Madison appeared out of nowhere, slinging an arm around my shoulders like she owned the place.

"Hey, lovebirds," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "You two look like you're about to star in a very dramatic indie film. Care to share with the class?"

Drew stiffened, his jaw tightening as he glanced at Madison. "We're just talking."

"Uh-huh," Madison said, raising an eyebrow. "And I'm just here to remind Mila that she promised to help me with... uh, something very important. Right, Mila?"

I blinked at her, confused. "I did?"

"Yep," she said, popping the 'p' as she tightened her grip on me. "Very important. Like, life-or-death important. So, if you'll excuse us, Drew, we've got some world-saving to do."

Drew looked like he wanted to argue, but Madison didn't give him the chance. She started dragging me away, calling over her shoulder, "Don't worry, Drew! I'll bring her back in one piece. Maybe. No promises."

I glanced back at Drew, who was standing there looking equal parts frustrated and defeated. My stomach twisted, but before I could say anything, Madison was already steering me toward the parking lot.

"What the hell, Madison?" I hissed as soon as we were out of earshot. "I was in the middle of something."

"Yeah, I could tell," she said, rolling her eyes. "You were about two seconds away from either kissing him or slapping him, and honestly, I didn't want to stick around to find out which one it was gonna be."

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "It's not like that."

"Uh-huh," she said, clearly not buying it. "And I'm the Queen of England. Come on, let's go. You look like you need food, and I'm not letting you make any life-altering decisions on an empty stomach."

I didn't argue. Mostly because she was right—I was starving, and my brain felt like it was about to short-circuit. Madison led me to my car, and I handed her the keys without a word. She climbed into the driver's seat, and I slumped into the passenger side, feeling like a deflated balloon.

As she pulled out of the parking lot, I finally broke the silence. "Drew called me last night."

Madison's eyes widened, but she kept her focus on the road. "Oh, this is gonna be good. Spill."

I hesitated, not sure where to even start. "He was drunk. And he said... he said he can't stop thinking about me. About us."

Madison let out a low whistle. "Damn. That's... a lot."

"Yeah," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "And then today, he basically told me he can't keep pretending like nothing's happening. He said he needs me to tell him to stop, or he doesn't think he can."

Madison glanced at me, her expression serious for once. "And what did you say?"

"I didn't get a chance to say anything," I admitted. "You showed up and dragged me away before I could."

She smirked. "You're welcome."

I groaned, leaning my head against the window. "This is such a mess, Madison. What am I supposed to do?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she pulled into the drive-thru of a fast-food place and ordered us both fries and milkshakes without asking. Once we had our food, she parked the car and turned to me, her expression softer than usual.

"Okay, first of all," she said, holding up a fry like it was a microphone, "you need to take a deep breath and stop acting like the world's about to end. This isn't a rom-com, Mila. You don't have to figure everything out right this second."