Mia Found (Starting Fires Book 3) Read Free Page B

couldn’t leave anything to chance. I had to go for it.
    While he was still touching me, I took a step towards him, but he immediately retreated.
    “ Those are good,” he said, louder now, the intimacy gone. “I’ll take them.”
    “ Oh, okay,” I said, trying hard not to let my disappointment show.
    I went to the counter and he followed. While Paul paid, he kept cutting his eyes to Fontenot. I’d completely forgotten he was even there. That was how easily Paul could put me under his spell.
    Smiling a little less brightly, my enthusiasm deflated, I handed him the small bag. “I hope she likes them,” I said.
    “ If they look half as good as they did on you, she’ll love them.”
    I chuckled. Paul’s flirting was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. All of his compliments were accompanied by a bashful smile.
    “ I hope so.” I grinned—watching him, waiting.
    We only stared at each other for a few seconds, but it felt like minutes. Something was on the tip of his tongue. A question. A thought. Something itched to leave his mouth. I stood in anticipation, hoping it was what I wanted it to be.
    Paul hastily grabbed the bag. “It was good to see you,” he said and walked towards the door.
    “ You too,” I said under my breath, not even sure if he heard me. He left me standing behind the counter, watching him leave.
    “ Well, wasn’t that the cutest thing,” Fontenot said.
    “ Oh, shut up.”

CHAPTER THREE
     
    MY APARTMENT WAS SMALL. A little living room. A tiny kitchen. Two petite bedrooms. One narrow bathroom. Fiona and I had been living there since our sophomore year in college.
    She was the exact polar opposite of me. She dated men habitually. She partied hard. Nearly every night of the week she was gone past midnight. How she passed any finals was a mystery to me. She swore. She drank. She constantly got new tattoos. Her hair was always a different color.
    My life was more reserved. I’d had two serious boyfriends—one through high school and then Fontenot. Being single was easy for me. Men complicated things. I wasn’t a prude, but I wasn’t eager to give pieces of myself away either—especially after Fontenot. If I was honest with myself, I was afraid. Afraid to give myself to someone who’d never take me seriously—someone who saw a silly girl with big dreams and stars in her eyes.
    I’d gone through a drinking phase, bar hopping and clubbing, but its appeal had dwindled. Now, if I went out, I was usually the designated driver. The worst swear word I ever said was hell. I was too afraid of needles to let one adorn my body with any sort of beauty. My hairstyle had been the same for years. Chestnut brown, with light caramel highlights. I kept it long enough to flow over my shoulders. It was full and thick and curled at the bottom in waves.
    Fiona called me boring.
    At some point, she and I had been friends, but it was different now. Our social circles weren’t the same. Our interests had grown further apart. She was an artist too, and more successful than I was. Her work seemed too angry for me, full of aggression and hatred. I never knew what people saw in it. Every time she sold a piece, my insides would twinge. I tried to be happy for her, but my disappointment was palpable. For every painting she sold, it was one I didn’t.
    “ Jealous much?” she’d say, snarling. It was the truth, but I still resented her for calling me out on it. I didn’t hate her, but ours was a weird relationship. I loved her, and wanted her to succeed, but she also knew how to get under my skin.
    “ Stop moping,” Fiona said, throwing a pillow at my face. I was lying on the couch minding my own business. Soft music was playing and no matter what the woman sang about, her voice sounded sad.
    “ I’m not moping,” I said, tossing the pillow away.
    I was moping. Seeing Paul earlier had made me feel empty. There was undeniable chemistry between us, and I longed to see where that chemistry could go. For whatever