Boomerang Read Free

sending my headache to Code Red.
    “Yeah, Ethan!” Jason laughs. “How’d it go, man? Was it like riding a bike?”
    “A little more fun than that,” I say. But, damn. I wish I really knew.
    “Did she leave?” Isis asks.
    “Not yet, but she needs to.”
    “Ethan!”
    “Easy, Isis. We both need to leave. She has a job, and my internship starts today.”
    Isis snorts. “That sucks. You look like crap.”
    “Then I look better than I feel. J, I need some cash.” The words burn in my throat. I hate asking for money. “I have to chip in for a cab.”
    Jason shakes his head. “Sorry, bro. I’m out. You emptied my wallet last night.”
    “I did?”
    Isis laughs. “Don’t you remember? You and Mia were doing body shots.”
    Christ, body shots ? Did I revert to being a freshman? “Never mind.”
    As I head back to the living room, I consider fishing through my sports bags for stray change, but I don’t have time and I still wouldn’t find enough to pay my way. There’s only one option left. It’s going to gut me, but screw it. It’s the only way.
    I find Mia standing by the front door, a sexy half-smile on her face, and my brain shorts out as I picture licking salt off her olive skin.
    “Did I just hear a vuvuzela?” she asks.
    “Yeah. My roommate thinks he’s funny. So, about that cab . . . Mind if I catch a ride with you?”
    Mia frowns, and I can tell she’s surprised. I’m surprised too. This isn’t how I expected this morning to play out. “Sure,” she says. “No problem.”
    “Cool. And uh . . . One other thing?” Fuck. I’m about to blow my chance of ever seeing this girl again—and I want to. If nothing else, to figure out what the hell we did last night. But I’m up against a wall. “You mind paying for it?”

 Chapter 3 
     
    Mia
     
    Q: Are you a lone wolf, or do you run with a pack?
     
    T he poor guy—Ethan—looks like he’s just requested a nail file to the eyeball. So he doesn’t like asking for favors. Interesting.
    “Yeah, no big deal,” I tell him. It takes all of my self-control not to reach out and touch him, straighten his red color-blocked tie or smooth the slight cowlick that rises over his straight, serious brow. Air molecules thicken between us, scintillating with that delicious energy of attraction.
    Or, okay, lust.
    It’s been so long since I’ve felt that, and I would love to just stay here, anchored in this moment. But I have no time.
    A car horn honks, punctuating my thought.
    “Guess our ride’s here,” I say.
    He leans in front of me to open the door, and I become intensely aware of both his height—he has about six inches on me, and I’m in four-inch heels—and of his scent: smoky and tantalizing, like a beach bonfire.
    Another flash comes to me: the inside of a cab, streetlights shading and then revealing his beautiful, serious face. He hauls me across the seat, pulling my leg over his, and bracing me with powerful hands against my back. Then the memory pinholes shut, leaving only the uptick of my pulse and the reminder that I really, really have places to go.
    I precede him onto a narrow balcony, blinking in the crystalline light that turns everything to shimmering green and gold. On the street below, a cab idles, and I head toward a rickety-looking aluminum staircase to make my way down.
    I’m aware of him behind me. The feeling of him—tangible and light at the same time, his quick certain footsteps shaking the entire staircase as we descend.
    Head in the game, Galliano . This is about becoming who I want to become. Finishing my film. Finding a way into the business on my own. This is most certainly not about a dude whose big move consists of hiding my underwear in an appliance.
    I slide into the cab first and give the address of the Boomerang offices.
    Ethan climbs in on the other side. “Olympic and Avenue of the Stars,” he tells the driver. “Probably close to where she’s headed.”
    The red-haired driver turns and gives us a