Almost Friends

Chapter 19-Mia

Chapter Nineteen

Mia

Joshua Phillips

I snuggle into the warmth of Josh's embrace and the springs in his mattress emit a loud groan for the millionth time this afternoon.

"I need a new bed," Josh says, his deep voice reverberating through me.

I smile and close my eyes, enjoying the pitter patter of rain as it falls outside of his window.

When we first got here, Josh was super self-conscious about his room. Actually before we even stepped foot in his room, he was stammering through an apology. "Uh, compared to what you're used to, my room's not great, so ... sorry ..."

But honestly, though Josh's room is a million times smaller than mine, it's comfy. It's small but tidy with a simple bed that was neatly made before we messed it up, a desk with a computer and whatnot, and nice carpet that looks new.

Besides, considering the state I was in when we got here, if Josh had brought me to a haunted dungeon, I would've been a thousand percent okay with that. All I needed was him.

"You all right?" Josh asks.

"Never better." Still grinning, I open my eyes and run my palm along his chest. He has great pecs—strong and not too much chest hair.

Mr. Brown's were gross—flabby like a fat girl's tits and set above a bloated beer belly. Come to think of it, everything about him was gross. I cringe and sigh as I scoot closer to Josh.

"You were amazing," I say. "Like pretty much the best I've had."

I don't add that if you don't count second base, I've only "had" two others: some dude who was a senior when I was a freshman, and then Mr. Brown two years later.

"Yeah, you too." Josh chuckles and kisses the top of my head as he wraps his other arm around me in a boa constrictor-like squeeze.

I love it.

"Hey, Mia?" he says, his breath warm against my forehead. "My mom's going to be home soon and she's not like your mom; she's always checking up on me, so, uh, could we like, go to your house?"

A gentle roll of thunder sounds outside and the thought of my house sends my heart into a slow landslide.

The way Mom's eyes closed as she slid to the floor, the mirror breaking ... my father. What's he going to do the next time we see each other? More importantly, what am I going to do?

I try to push Josh away and he glances down at me before releasing me.

"You're lucky your mom cares," I mutter. I sit up and run my fingers through my wild hair. I turn to Josh and he's staring at me the way I often catch myself gawking at Ran, enjoying the view yet trying to understand his whack opinions and sense of humor.

"We can't go to my house right now," I explain, meeting his eyes. "My parents ... they ... we just can't."

Josh's gaze darts to my cheek and I remember that I've got a bruise there. Self-conscious, I push his bed sheet down, exposing my chest and Josh's eyes immediately go to my boobs. Mission accomplished. Satisfied, I continue, "Let's just stay here for a little while, okay?"

His dark eyes return to mine and he studies my face.

I squirm. Why couldn't he just keep staring at my body instead of my bruised face? Ugh... I look down, wondering what he's thinking as he stares at me.

Finally, Josh pushes his sheet away and says, "Come here."

The landslide in my chest comes to a halt. I grin and do as told.

Lying against Josh's chest, listening to his heartbeat, my head moving up and down with his every breath—this is calm.

I close my eyes, letting peace wash over me.

Screw my anger, screw the "ability" that's ruining mylife, screw the weed and pills ... thisis all I need.