Page 97

On The Back Foot

MIA

Warmthcloudedmysensesas I slowly came to, the weight of Reid’s duvet heavy on my body. I kept my eyes shut, hoping to stave off the creeping shame and embarrassment that lingered at the very edges of consciousness. I wondered how many hours had passed, if any, and what Reid was doing, because the softness beneath my cheek wasn’t her thighs, it was a pillow.

I strained my ears for any sign of movement, something that might tell me where she was and how close, what she might be doing.

But the more I strained, the more awake I felt, the more that sense of shame dragged ice-clawed tips down my spine. I wanted to bury my head under the duvet and melt into the sofa, never to resurface.

Faintly, the soft click of fingers on a keyboard reached my ears. Not too far away, and if I was right, Reid wouldn’t be facing the sofa. I chanced it, peeling my swollen eyes open and blinking in the dim light of the living room. Light flickered from the TV, the volume turned down so it was barely audible over the keyboard.

Reid sat on the single seat sofa just a few feet away from me, her attention solely on her laptop. Like a child, I wondered if I could sneak out without her noticing, but that thought disappeared as quickly as it had occurred to me.

The silence dragged on, and every second that ticked past pressed a new weight onto my lungs.

“You sound a little antsy over there,” Reid murmured into the silence.

My chin jerked up in response, heat flooding my cheeks. “S-sorry,” I muttered a little roughly as I sat up. Suddenly self-conscious, I kept the duvet wrapped around me like it would hide me away. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Reid’s eyes remained fixed on her laptop as she shook her head. “You’re not disturbing me,” she said. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No.”

“Then go back to sleep.”

I pressed my lips together. Despite the fatigue holding my body hostage, there was no way I could go back to sleep. Especially not with Reid in the same room.

Now that she’d spoken to me, it made everything that happened a few hours ago seem too real. My nerves trembled. What if Reid was just being nice about the entire situation?

It wouldn’t be far out of her character to do so; she’d often set aside her own comfort to make sure other people felt comfortable around her. Would she have done that with me as well?

“I don’t think I can sleep right now,” I admitted, my voice groggy in spite of what I’d just said. “I should probably stretch my legs a little.”

“You weren’t asleep for long,” Reid pointed out, lifting her gaze to me. “You’re probably a lot more tired than you feel, thanks to the adrenalin.”

I swallowed. Hard.

I didn’t want to think about it, any of it. I wanted to tuck it away into a tiny crevice in the back of my mind. Leave it there to rot by itself, without my unhelpful tendencies spurring it on.

Reid’s eyes went back to her laptop, and my stomach tightened. I couldn’t figure out whether she was telling me to stay or… ignoring me. If shewasignoring me, I supposed that would make it easier to avoid her.

Coward, my inner voice spat. But I was helpless; how could I face her after everything I’d confessed? I still couldn’t understand why she hadn’t just told me to go back to my own hotel room already.

Paralyzed by my own mind, I tugged the duvet up and pressed the lower half of my face into the warmth like it would stifle the anxiety threatening to tear out of my lungs.

“Mia.”

I jumped a little, gaze snapping up to meet Reid’s. “Yeah?”

“You should rest,” she said. “And eat. You didn’t end up eating lunch, and it’s been a while since you last ate anything.”

“I’m really okay,” I insisted, even though I nervously tugged at the duvet wrapped around my shoulders. “You seem busy, anyway.”

Reid didn’t stop typing, but I saw her gaze flick over to me.

“I already ordered dinner,” she replied, and I groaned internally. “You told me you wanted feijoada, so I called the front desk. It should be here soon.”

Despite the flutter in my stomach I wished she would just let me leave. I wanted nothing more than to scrub myself clean of the lingering shame and sink into the isolation of my own bed for a few hours.