Page 22

We Have Tonight

Mia

“I’m drunk.”

I giggle the words for what I’m pretty sure is the twenty-seventh time since we left Owen Marshall’s house party, and Aleks fights back a grin, holding one finger to his lips to tell me to be quiet.

We’re home now — thanks to Aleks being sober. He has rink time in the morning and didn’t want to be hungover, so he didn’t drink at the party tonight. I’m glad he’s sober. I’m glad he drove us.

I’m glad he’s holding me upright so I don’t fall as we stumble through my side yard.

I try not to focus too much on where his hand is locked around my hip as we make our way toward the back deck, but it’s impossible. His hand is so big. His palm is so warm against my skin.

I lean even more into him to the point he’s practically carrying me, inhaling his scent. Why does he always smell so good? Like body wash and boy. Mint and ice and him . Sometimes, I go into his room to write lyrics on his bed while he plays video games just so I can soak up that scent.

“Alright, Strings. Use those legs of yours,” Aleks says on a chuckle when we reach the stairs. He helps me every step of the way up, reminding me again to be quiet before he’s carefully sneaking us in through the sliding glass door.

He checks to make sure the coast is clear before helping me farther inside. Mom and Dad know we went to a party. What they don’t know is that their baby girl is drunk with a capital D right now, and they would not be happy about it. So again, I’m glad Aleks is taking care of me.

He’s always taking care of me.

We stumble down the hallway together — me clinging to him and swaying while he does everything to keep us steady. We bypass his room on the way to mine, and once we’re inside, he releases me to carefully and quietly shut the door behind us.

I flop face down on the bed in a fit of giggles.

“I’m drunk,” I say again, the noise muffled by my comforter.

I hear Aleks sigh behind me before his hands are on my ankles hanging off the bed. With one swift jerk, he rolls me over, and I laugh even more.

“You’re going to get us both in trouble if you don’t be quiet,” he warns in a whisper, then he smacks the outside of my right thigh. “Hush.”

I don’t know why that word makes chills race up my legs.

I don’t know why all the laughter dies in my throat.

I don’t understand the strange and unfamiliar zing of electricity that strikes between my thighs and makes me squeeze them together.

My eyes are wide, lips parted as I lean up on my elbows to watch Aleks. He’s oblivious to me, his focus on where he’s untying my sneakers. He undoes the laces with care before sliding each shoe off my feet, setting the dirty things under my bed quietly.

His hands find my ankles again when he’s standing, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin above my socks.

I think I feel him stiffen a little, too.

I think he feels the weight of the room closing in the same way I do, the way the air is heavier somehow now.

He swallows, his eyes flicking up to meet mine.

He’s so hot.

God , he’s so hot.

He’s wearing a dark green hoodie with our school’s logo on it. Paired with the light wash jeans he has on, the chain around his neck, and his backward hat — he looks like a bad boy. It doesn’t help that his nose is still busted up from a high-sticking on the ice last week.

I feel hot and sweaty staring at him, like I should look away, but I can’t.

He clears his throat, releasing my ankles and crossing the room to my dresser. He opens and shuts drawers until he finds my pajamas, tossing them onto the bed next to me.

“Get some sleep, you little menace,” he says with a smirk.

Before he can take a step toward the door, I grab his wrist.

“Stay.”

Aleks looks at where my hand is around his wrist, his gaze finding mine before he’s staring at the point of contact again.

“Please?” I add when he’s still frozen after a moment. “Just… sit here. Talk to me.”

I pat the bed next to me, scooting over and up until my back is against the pillows.

Aleks looks at the invitation like it’s the gateway to hell.

“I’m too drunk to lie down yet,” I say. “I’ll get the spins.”

He swallows, but concedes, sitting next to me. He’s still stiff, not fully relaxing against the pillows.

“Oh, my God. Relax, Suter. I’m not going to puke on you,” I tease, and then I thread my arm through his and lay my head on his shoulder, tucking my sock-covered feet under his legs. “Mmm, you’re always so warm, like a furnace.”

I nuzzle in, and after a few breaths, I feel Aleks marginally relax.

“Dude. Did you see Jerry do that keg stand?” I giggle on a hiccup. “No wonder he passed out on the couch after.”

“I was more impressed with your slap the bag performance,” Aleks says, his fingers coming up to play with my hair. I sigh contently at the first brush of his nails against my scalp. “Who knew you were such a wine-o?”

“I get it from my mama.”

He chuckles at that, and then we’re reminiscing on the night and all the craziness that occurred. From the people we saw making out and jumping in the pool to the ones who were dancing on the kitchen island or taking bong hits that would knock a grown man on his ass.

Eventually, we quiet, Aleks still playing with my hair as I fiddle with the string of his hoodie.

“I’m going to miss high school, I think,” I admit on a sigh. “I mean, not all of it. Like, not the schoolwork and stuff but… I don’t know. We’ve had it kind of good, haven’t we? It’s been… fun.”

Aleks smirks, but when I glance at him, I see a sort of distance in his eyes. “I suppose so.”

I wonder if he’s thinking about his mom, and immediately feel like a jerk for assuming he’s had the same high school experience as me when I know his time has been full of ups and downs. He moved to a whole new country. The woman he considered his mother died while he was gone. He’s in this place where everything is different — the language, the culture, even aspects of the sport he loves.

The longer I stare at him, the harder my heart beats.

This boy came into my life just two years ago, and now, he’s my best friend. I can’t imagine not talking to him every morning and night. I can’t imagine weekends without him teasing me as I attempt to write new songs, or nights during the season where I wouldn’t be there cheering him on as he plays hockey. I can’t imagine sleeping in this house and not knowing he’s right down the hall.

Now, we’re seniors, weeks away from graduating and going on to live our separate lives. I’m going to college in the fall, unless by some miracle my music takes off before then, which seems highly unlikely considering how many artists out there want the same big break I do. And Aleks? He’s already been drafted to the NHL. Sure, he’ll be here for the rest of this year and maybe play another season with the junior league next year, but then he’ll be gone. And who knows what will happen next for me…

But we have tonight.

The words hit me out of nowhere, harsh at first, and then melty like butter as they slink into every corner of my body.

We have tonight.

I swallow, my heart picking up speed as I feel my hands moving before I can tell them what to do. I go from playing with the string on his hoodie to tracing the line of his jaw, shivering a bit at the slight stubble there that tickles my palm.

I think I feel his jaw harden under my touch, think I hear his heart start racing to match the pace of mine.

I don’t let myself overthink it before I’m climbing into his lap.

I expect Aleks to stop me. I expect him to laugh and ask me what the hell I’m doing.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, his hands find my hips, gripping me hard enough to bruise as I straddle him. That bolt of electricity between my legs is back with a vengeance when I’m fully seated, when the seam of his jeans is flush against the cotton panties under my skirt.

I shake at the contact, my confidence a little rockier now that I’m on top of him. I do my best not to show how nervous I am as I fist my hands in his hoodie, my eyes tracing his neck, his jaw, before I find his lips.

Aleks doesn’t move.

He just sits there under me, his breaths coming hard and labored, his hands fixed to my waist.

“You’ve never told me about this,” I say breathlessly, fingering the silver chain necklace around his neck. I’m delaying what I really want to say, what I really want to do .

“What about it?”

“You’ve worn it since I met you. Does it mean something?”

“It was a gift from my mom.”

My brows pinch together as I look up to meet his gaze. We both know now that when he says mom, he means Annaliese — not his birth mom.

“She gave it to me when I made the team in secondary school,” he explains. “I’d made some offhand, stupid comment about how some of the guys on the team had necklaces and that I wanted one, but I never imagined I’d actually ever have one. We could barely afford food some weeks, let alone something like this.”

He touches the metal, rolling it between his fingertips before he lets it drop and his hand is on my hip again.

“She loved you,” I whisper.

He nods. “Not sure why.”

I frown deeper at that, and bravery finds me again as my hands come up to his face. I trace the lines of his jaw, the jagged bridge of his nose, the furrowed brows above his deep brown eyes.

“I know why,” I say softly.

Aleks tightens his grip on my hips when I rock against him, my eyelids fluttering a bit at the ecstasy that floods me with just that bit of friction. My whole body is on fire right now, my skin hot, blood boiling.

My fingers curl at the base of his neck, tilting his chin up toward me and forcing his eyes to mine.

I rock against him again.

Against his erection.

He’s hard for me.

That fact sends me reeling, and I whimper at the feel of that hardness against where I’m so hot and soft and damp.

“Mia,” Aleks warns, and this time he grips my hips hard enough to stop me from bucking again.

“Aleks,” I breathlessly reply, dipping my forehead to his. I bite my lower lip, watching where each breath rocks his chest.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

I don’t know what I want.

I don’t know what I expect to happen, where I expect us to go from here.

All I can hear are those three words on repeat.

We have tonight.

With shaking hands, I pull him into me, fighting against his resistance as I lower my lips to his neck. He groans the lowest, most delicious sound when I press a kiss to his throat.

His breath intensifies as I drag my mouth along the slope of his Adam’s apple, up to his jaw, nipping at the skin there with my heart about to burst out of my chest.

Then, I’m hovering, panting, my lips parted and just an inch from his.

“Mia, we—”

“Kiss me,” I interrupt, clawing at the back of his neck. “Aleks, kiss me.”

“Fuck.”

He mutters the word, wetting his lips. His tongue nearly touches me when he does. I feel the heat of it, the heat of him beneath me, the heat of this moment in every cell of my being.

“Mia, you… you’re drunk.”

“So?”

I rock against him, and he grunts, pinning me still once more.

“Aleks, I want you.”

He lets out another string of curses, this time in Swiss German, and I smirk a little.

This is it.

This is when we give in, when I finally feel what it’s like to be kissed by Aleks Suter, to be touched by him, to be claimed by him.

I try to lower my mouth to his, pulling him up to meet me.

But at the very last second, he turns his head to the side.

My lips land against the corner of his mouth instead, and I frown, pulling back to look down at him.

His nostrils flare, his eyes focused somewhere across my bedroom. For a long moment, he’s completely silent, me panting and waiting on his lap while he breathes like a fucking dragon and does everything but return my gaze.

“You’re drunk, Mia,” he repeats, and when he finally brings his eyes to meet mine, I swear a piece of me shatters. “You should get some sleep.”

And there it is, written in every feature of his beautiful, stupid face.

Rejection.

He doesn’t want me.

He’s using the fact that I’m drunk to laugh this off, to save himself from having to say what he really means.

To save me from embarrassment.

It’s too late for that last one, I realize, as I shamefully release him and climb out of his lap. As soon as I’m off him, he flies off the bed, and I tuck my legs up to my chest and hug them tightly.

Oh, God.

What have I done?

“I… I’ll go get you some water,” he says, scrubbing the back of his neck.

And then he’s gone.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” I repeat the words over and over when he’s out of the room, slapping myself in the forehead. “Mia, what the fuck?!”

I burrow myself under my covers, pulling them up over my ears to hide my face. Maybe he’ll think I passed out when he comes back. Maybe I can just die of embarrassment without him being any the wiser.

“Mia?” Aleks asks when he comes back. I hear him set down a glass of water on my bedside table, but I don’t move. “There’s water here. You should drink it before you go to bed. And I brought two ibuprofen, too. They’ll help your head.”

I don’t reply.

I don’t move.

I don’t want to be living in this nightmare for another second.

I think I hear him sigh as his weight sinks the mattress behind me. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping I can play off that I’m asleep.

“Mia, I…”

But he doesn’t finish that sentence.

Instead, I feel him brush my hair back from my forehead just enough to press a kiss there, and I feel that kiss like a slap in the face and a branding iron to my soul all at once.

The stupid part of me almost wonders if that kiss is laced with longing.

The smart part of me knows it’s actually pity.

My heart is locked up tight in my chest when Aleks finally leaves. I throw the covers off once he’s gone, flopping onto my back and staring up at the ceiling as tears flood my eyes.

But I don’t let them fall.

And the next morning, I pretend nothing even happened.