Page 31 of Most Likely to Deny Love (Yearbook #2)

JACK

M y eyes drifted once again to Mia’s office across the floor. She sat hunched over her computer, dark hair falling forward to curtain her face as she determinedly avoided looking in my direction. Just like she’d been doing all fucking week.

The knot in my stomach tightened. I’d called her twice over the weekend, hoping to clear the air after her hasty retreat from my house. Both calls had gone straight to voicemail. A crystal clear message that she wanted nothing to do with me.

I rubbed a hand over my face, exhaustion pulling at me.

I’d barely slept since she’d left, replaying that moment over and over.

The way she’d jerked away from me, horror written across her face.

The frantic way she’d gathered her things, desperate to escape.

I should have stopped her, explained that I wasn’t upset, that I’d wanted her touch.

That I wanted her, period. That I’d dreamed of her hands on me more times than I could count.

But I’d been too stunned, too slow, and she’d bolted before I could form the words.

A soft knock on my door made me look up. Emily stood there with another stack of folders clutched against her chest, her expression carefully neutral. The third batch of paperwork that should have been brought by Mia.

She crossed to the sideboard and set the folders down with the others, the sound sharper than necessary in the quiet office.

For a moment she hesitated, her hand still resting on the stack, like she was debating whether to say something.

Then she seemed to think better of it and turned toward the door.

“Emily.”

She stopped, one hand on the doorframe, and looked back at me with raised eyebrows.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again, having absolutely no idea what I’d planned to say.

I had no way of knowing what she already knew, if anything, about what had happened.

So what was I supposed to tell her? That Mia and I had accidentally fallen asleep and I’d woken up with her hand wrapped around my dick?

That I’d frozen like an idiot instead of reassuring her it was okay?

Emily studied my face, taking in what I could only imagine was the general look of a man who’d been hit by a truck. After a long moment, she stepped back into the office and closed the door.

She crossed her arms. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two.

Mia hasn’t said a word since she got back from your place.

But she’s clearly upset, and beyond reassuring me that you didn’t do anything you shouldn’t have, she won’t talk to me about it.

” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “But you should.”

With that, she opened the door and left, but not before giving me a look that clearly said fix this, you idiot .

I sat back in my chair, Emily’s words echoing in my head. But you should. She was right, of course. Sitting here spiraling wasn’t solving anything. The growing distance between us felt like a physical ache, a hollowness that spread through my chest with each hour Mia avoided my gaze.

I picked up my phone, Emily’s advice pushing me toward action. My thumb hovered over Mia’s contact information. Okay, this was fucking stupid. There was no way I could just call her, in the middle of the work day. I’d have to do it discreetly. No easy feat, since she was utterly stonewalling me.

But I’d royally fucked up, that much was clear and it was on me to fix it.

Across the floor, Mia reached up to gather her hair and pull it over her shoulder, her movements tight and controlled.

She looked as exhausted as I felt, dark circles shadowing her eyes.

The urge to go to her, to pull her into my arms and erase that tension from her shoulders, was almost overwhelming.

But I had to tread very, very lightly, or she’d run again. I needed a plan.