5.

MIA

Another reason I wish Maya hadn't worked out everything in seconds. She's a smooth talker, which meant Nick was getting into a confrontation eventually. It also meant my poker face game was getting worse, but we'll worry about that later.

"Thank you, girls. Do you have any plans for the evening?"

"Even if we did, Mr Dawson, I doubt you'd know about it. Mia tends to startle us all."

She bobbed her head as though a magnificent realization had just been made.

"Maya!"

"What? Don't we all know?"

Dad glanced past all three of us. "I do."

Logan quips at the end. His presence is unnoticed.

That's a lie. All I can smell is him.

"Of course you do."

Maya snorts. I may have found someone she dislikes more than Max.

"I get the impression that you're hardly wrong, so yeah I do."

Her smile is radiant. One compliment and she's grounded.

"It's Monday, Dad. I'm headed home and going through a few readings."

"I'm behind on a few case files from my last trip, so I was hoping you could tour the hospital with Logan. He'll need to run quite a few errands, and it'd be helpful if he knew where everything was."

My skin turned pale. Tour? I guess I'm a guide now. Awkward conversation. Close spaces.

Ugh. "I can give him the tour, Mr Dawson. I love talking...."

"Don't we all know?"

My dad and I chorused. She waved us off before persisting. "I can show him."

She elbowed me, a cue to leave while I could.

"I don't suppose you move in separate cars?"

"No."

I dropped my shoulders. "Then both of you can tour. It shouldn't take ten minutes. Please, dear."

I learned my protests would only lead to skepticism. Rather, I gave him a small smile, my gaze softening as I nodded in agreement.

"Uh, I guess we can show him around quick."

"Thank you."

He strode towards his desk, retrieving a folder and then pulling a seat to start his work.

"Oh, Dad, Logan is Nick's brother."

I blurted. All heads rotated. If he's here to stay, I can't pull the covers over my head tonight, not knowing if they're related or not.

"Mia!"

"It's not a secret. You're not a secret, right?"

I met his eyes for the first time today. He's enchanting. It's like a slow upbeat song. It makes my belly tingle. His eyes are the same, and they're observing mine. His head jerks slightly, his lips tug in a small smirk. I barely see it before it disappears.

"You know my brother?"

I swallow a gasp, and it's like a cough.

"I guess we're playing the amnesia route."

"That's right. The hospital and university handled background checks, and I didn't pay attention to his last name."

He flipped through the folder. "Jackson."

"I know your brother. Yes."

"Do you, now?"

He sucks a tiny part of his lips into his mouth, unable to hold his brows from quirking. I can hear the unspoken taunt.

"He's my boyfriend."

I choked. This time, a smirk was displayed. I can read between the lines. Mockery. The slut who fucked him despite being in a relationship.

It stings. Hurts my eyes. Clenching my fists at my sides, I avert my gaze from him and back to my dad.

"I need to use the washroom. I'll be down the hall, and we can start there."

I blink back at least thrice, then bolt.

Not only that, but I didn't cry the morning after. I sat in the bathroom feeling numb, but this made my eyes water. It's the feeling of being shallow like I'm insignificant.

Everyone's attempting gender neutrality. That's why we have gender-neutral washrooms. I think it's the safer choice since no one wants confrontation or to take a stand. They avoid arguments.

I pull a napkin at the thought. Run around with your problems instead of facing them. Hilarious.

I pat the corners of my eyes, then sniffle. How ironic.

"My brother, huh?"

"How'd he pull you?"

I jerk in shock, my brain not fully wired to accept a man's presence in the washroom. My eyes burn when I glare.

"What are you doing?"

I sound like a predator, snarling at him.

"Making use of the washroom. Gender neutral."

"Shut up."

I grab an empty tissue roll, pointing at the cardboard in his face. His hands fly up in defense, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I'll use another washroom."

"Don't move. I said shut up."

His crooked grin makes me wish I could do more damage with this thing. I need a knife.

"What are you doing here? Why did you tell me your name? Did you know he was my father? What's the end goal? What's your problem!"

He cocks his head, my grip on the paper cracking.

"Fucking answer me. And what was that? I'm sure you think it's snug. Fucking your brother's girlfriend."

His lips curve. "Speak."

"As you wish."

His submission shouldn't make me tingle. But it does. I'm broken, for sure. Pick a poison, Mia. Praise or submission. You can't have both.

"I couldn't follow all the questions, but I can quip a correction. We didn't fuck."

I lower my weapon, deflated and useless. "Huh?"

"Do you remember Saturday?"

He's breaking the barricade.

"Y-Yes."

"You recall everything, correct?"

He lowers his knees, carefully retrieving the cardboard paper I dropped.

"Uh."

He inches closer, lifting himself until we're much closer now.

"You wouldn't have hangover amnesia, Mia."

"Don't touch me."

I recoil, watching his hand shoot up. Then I move back and create much-needed space. I can't breathe that cologne. It reminds me too much of everything I'd like to forget.

"I wasn't planning to."

Whip splash. "What?"

"I'm not touching you. I just need to do that."

He slides around, tossing the paper away in the trash, and returning to me with a glum look.

"Oh."

That shouldn't hurt. Boundaries. That's good. Exactly what we needed.

"Please don't litter."

Maybe it's dominance? This damn man.

Then he did that. A slight, almost unnoticeable brush of his finger against my exposed arm. Or maybe I'm overthinking it.

"Did you know I was dating Nick?"

I blurted. If he did, it would explain nothing, but I just needed it to make sense. The alternative was to go crazy.

The guilt was all mine.

"My brother."

The taunts disappear, anger simmers through his face, and he clasps the sink's edge.

"That's right. You cheated on my brother."

When his gaze lands back on me, there's no trace of what once was. I'm convinced I imagined it.

The confirmation was clear regardless. He didn't know. Logan was just a guy who walked into a club, met a girl, and wanted her.

Mia Dawson is a slut. The scandalous girlfriend who sinned the first chance she got.

It was all me.

Thank you for letting me know. We don't have to bring this up. Ever."

I punctuate each phrase, looking back, pleading with my eyes that he agrees.

Once again, he attempted to come forward.

"You have my word."

He angles his head at mine and I swear those eyes glimpse past my lips before retreating and leaving me to my thoughts.

It was all about me.

As I dipped my hands in soap, I couldn't help but reminisce about the entire night. I didn't forget. There was no sex. But the weird mumbled sentences. The plan he had? What was all that?

****

"Ready?"

That's a loaded question from my best friend. I need not be here. Rewind time and fix this past weekend. I am not ready to tour around.

"We're starting with the reception."

I had a loopy smile, clasped my hands, and directed him forward.

Maya shakes her head beside us.

***

He's been quiet, no awkward conversations yet, and we're almost done. They built the hospital like a mall, where you can walk in circles, and then return to where you started.

It has always fascinated me.

"Ooh, who's that?"

Like a purring cat. Was she ever not horny?

"I'm gonna talk to him. Hang tight."

"No. He's probably eight years older than you, and my dad will kill both of you."

"More reasons I'm headed straight for it."

"Maya!"

I squeaked, but she disappeared towards the doctor, holding a notepad, and leaving me alone.

"We'll wait, and I think we're almost back to where we started. The tour ends here. You should be good at finding your way."

"I am. I downloaded an interactive map. I know every inch."

"Wait what?"

"Then why didn't you stop this stupid tour?"

"I wanted to see it in person regardless, or maybe I figured you'd spend the last ten minutes squirming as you do that thing."

"What thing?"

I huff, crossing my arms. He's pissing me off.

"That thing with your mind. You're not here. You are, but your mind isn't. It takes you everywhere at once, and you don't know how to shut it off."

Who said he could play a therapist? And how was that such an accurate reading? Not a single person noticed.

"Fuck. You."

His steps recede until we're beside each other, and then he comes up behind me and glances at our surroundings. Nurses and doctors casually pass by, and patients and visitors do the same.

Then he holsters each side of my waist. I sucked in deep, frozen for an instant, then the familiarity of his touch caused me to tingle.

"Remember when I gave you my word earlier?"

"Yeah?"

I hissed, checking on the doctor and my best friend. What is it with her and older men? My dad will kill whoever that guy was.

"I lied."

He's touching me. Everyone. Can. See.

We are. In. The. Open.

My first thought was Nick, who wanted to tag along. Disgusting, right?

I should shrug him off, but the hands around my waist aren't cold; they feel warm and make you want to lean over, so your head matches his neck and your mouth can kiss wherever the fuck it wants to.

"Logan, people can see. Let's go."

Since I clearly can't. "That makes it all the better, Red."

My hair comes to the back of my neck, so his view becomes clearer.

"What is it about this being wrong that makes it all the more enthralling, Mia?"

My best friend is far too gone with flirting to notice us.

"You're delusional. I. Don't. Want. This."

Swiftly, he cups my face and swerves it to meet his.

"Oh, yeah?"

His eyes dip, and it's disgusting. I want to crawl into a corner, but it turns me on so damn —

Fuck. It's baffling what I'd let him do to me.

"How can you do this to your brother?"

I croak. The mention of Nick breaks the spell every time. He extinguishes his touch, leaving me to focus on Maya again.

"I did nothing."

Finally, she scribbles her number on his arm, batting her lashes, and then makes a turn to rejoin us.

"Yet."

He adds directly below my earlobes.

What does that even mean? And why aren't I running? Instead, there's warmth between my legs, and he hasn't fucked me yet.

Did I just say yet?

Oh, sweet Lord.

****

A/N:

I suppose I should have included a trigger warning in the first chapter, but I can now. There are some moral dilemmas. But again, it's fictional. So why not indulge? ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡