Angel (Book 4)

Chapter 9. Moving On

There was a pounding on my bedroom door. It was eleven o'clock at night. Who in the hell? I jumped out of bed in just my boxers. I threw open the door, and my eyes widened.

"Mia?" I asked. I rubbed my eyes and looked at her again to be sure of what I was seeing.

"Can we talk?"

"At eleven o'clock at night? You couldn't like swing by earlier?" I asked in disbelief.

"As if my parents were going to let me," she muttered and shoved past me.

"How the hell did you get here?"

"I took my mom's car," she said. "They're asleep." She stepped further into my room.

I watched as her hips swayed. From the way she walked, I had a sense of déjà vu. She was pissed at me, I could tell. I closed the door and turned to face her tiredly. I had hardly slept the past couple of nights. This was the first time I had spoken to Mia since the incident with her dad.

Mia had tried texting me the past couple of days, but I ignored her.

"Why are you ignoring me?" She asked.

It wasn't like I wanted to ignore her. It seemed instinctual, like survival. I was not going to survive this girl and her dad. I didn't know what to do at this point. I was so into her, but also into the idea of not having her dad up my ass every day.

"Look, Mia, I like you, but," I stopped. I couldn't finish the sentence. I looked down and shook my head. It sounded as if I was breaking up with her, but we were never even together.

"So, it's over? Are you like breaking it off with me?" She asked. She sounded out of breath.

My eyes pierced hers. It was hard to hold my cold expression in place. I snorted. "What? We were never even together, Mia. Look, you're a pretty girl, but I'm not going to put up with your dad. It isn't worth it. There are plenty of pretty girls who don't have psychotic fathers."

My words came out like daggers. It was the meanest and coldest I had ever acted toward her. I understood what she meant by breaking up. That is basically how I saw it too. We had been seeing each other. It just hadn't gotten that far. A flicker of hurt flashed in her eyes. I was treating her like she never meant anything. It hurt to do it. I wanted to take it all back, but I couldn't. For the sake of my family and my own sanity, I couldn't.

She bit down on her lip and looked away. She sniffled and looked back up at me. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away. "Is it true? Did my dad find Cocaine in your car?" She asked. Her eyes were filled with disgust.

I could tell she was hoping I would say no. However, I was willing to hurt her and lie. I was going to do whatever it took to keep her from coming back this time.

"Yeah," I said simply. I pursed my lips and shrugged.

She shook her head. "God, you are not who I thought you were. I can handle a pothead, but a cokehead is a different ballpark. You act like so levelheaded some days. The next day you are something horrible. You are no better than Ricky," she sneered. "Don't ever speak to me again. I mean it this time." She stormed past me out of the bedroom.

I hated it. I didn't want her to be disappointed in me. I was not on cocaine. I would never do anything that idiotic. I was never one to mess with hard drugs. They repulsed me. It hurt me to hurt her. It angered me to make her think that way of me. I hated that she compared me to Ricky. I stood there for a long time before I finally sauntered back over to my bed. I was tired, but my head was so full of what happened I couldn't sleep.