I find Tara in the large kitchen, pouring out generous shots of sambuca at the all white marble island.

"Sooo?" she asks impatiently, rubbing her top and bottom lip together as she places one in my hand, linking her arm through mine. We slam them back before I answer, trying to shake the image of Miles out of my brain.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes when I finish summarizing what Joey told me.

"Thanks for trying. We'll see I guess. You're a good friend…" She picks up a second shot and pours it back. "Speakin' of… has Char talked to you yet?"

I shake my head.

"No." I bite my lip and then take a sip of my beer. "Have you told her? That I'm staying with you?"

"No, babe. I didn't know whether you wanted me to. But I will; if you want."

I nod my head slowly. "Please. I miss her, y'know? Feels like I've lost my right hand."

She smiles sadly and I realise how difficult it must be for her being stuck in the middle.

"She just needs time, Mia."

I pick up another shot, downing it.

"I hope you're right."

"And you have me, you're not alone." Tara looks sincere. "I mean that. Stay as long as you need, I like having you around. And your doin' so good without him."

"Thanks," I say and then more determined. "I feel… just like, a huge weight has gone already."

"It's showing." She smiles wide. "And you know what they say. To get over one guy, get under another." She raises her eyebrows suggestively and I laugh.

Two beers and a good few shots later I stumble to find a bathroom, trying not to look for Miles on my way. Not his white t-shirt, or his dark hair or his biceps, or his dark eyes. Nope.

I'm glad for the two minutes of space as I lean over the sink and stare at my reflection. Sun-kissed collar bones peek, tanned shoulders fading down to paler cleavage. Tara has worked wonders covering yellowing bruises and the tiny red scar above my brow so you can't even tell, a smokey eye and bold red lip making me look far more put together than I feel.

I reapply the red before leaving, a little reluctant to return to Tara and the show she's putting on for Joey's benefit when she thinks he's looking. It's painful.

Her laugh gets a little louder, her movements more exaggerated, her flirting more overt. I told her it was over the top, but she laughed and ignored me, carrying on chatting with this guy and his drunk friend who keeps talking at my tits rather than my face.

Joey looks like someone stole his puppy, so it might well be working; I'll give her that. He pulls little faces at me occasionally from across the room and I have to hide a smile behind my hand.

I allow myself a glance to where Miles had been seated earlier as I wind my way back, but he's not there. Neither is the blonde girl either, and I'm kind of glad.

***

I'm standing smoking on the back porch, my arm wrapped around myself, flexing my hand as it starts to tingle. The party rages behind me, inside. I can hear people drunkenly singing and laughing, and music thumping, and yet I feel detached.

Tara was actually talking with Joey when I got back from the bathroom, so I grabbed a bottle of beer and took myself out here to give them space, not wanting to be bothered by anyone else either.

The door opens behind me with a drawn-out creak but I remain steadfast, staring out into the darkness of the garden, enjoying the way the cold clings to my face and my legs in this ridiculously short skirt.

Footsteps walk from behind me to my side before I hear the flick of a lighter. Once. Twice. Three times. The glowing embers of a cigarette being lit, just in my peripheral.

"Hey," a voice says that I recognize instantly. "I thought it was you."

He hasn't left after all.

"Hi," I say with a sigh, still trying not to think about the blonde girl on his lap earlier or the way jealousy claws up my spine.

"You shouldn't be out here on your own," he tells me turning to face me, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth, leaning on the wooden railing. "Never know what's lurking in the dark."

I take a drag before replying. "Like you, you mean?"

"I ain't lurking, Mia," he says with a wry smile. I shrug.

"Stalking then?" I retort, placing the bottle to my lips and taking a sip. "What are you doin' here?"

"You look… good," he counters, looking me over. I know he means my face, but I still feel a flush, it not escaping my notice the way his eyes slowly wander over me—head to toe. 

At least I'm looking on point, rather than when he last saw me.

"Not the best compliment I've had tonight," I reply, watching smoke drift and twirl, alcohol making me feel a fraction bolder.

A slow smile spreads across his face and he shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes. "No. I bet it ain't."

Inhale.

Exhale.

"Let me see your hand."

I offer my hand to him as he straightens up, coming closer, the red scar prominent against my palm. I took the stitches out myself a few days ago with sterilised tweezers and scissors.

"Givin' you any problems?" he asks, taking it in his own, larger one, tracing it with the tip of his finger.

"Numbness, pins and needles. Could be worse," I tell him truthfully. He looks down at me and I'm not sure whether the sudden rush of attraction I feel towards him is just me.

My stomach flutters, heart quickening, hand tingling from his touch.

I take another drag, watching him, watch me, and for just a split second I think he's going to lean down and kiss me.

"Sorry," he says softly, not letting go of my hand.

"Ain't your fault," I say, looking away, back into the garden.

"Kinda is," he pushes dark tousled hair back and slowly lets go. "Who you here with?"

"A friend. Last time I saw she was talkin' to her ex, and I didn't wanna interrupt so..." I shrug again. "You?"

He doesn't get to respond as the door behind us opens again, throwing light into the garden.

"Miles, there you are," a trill voice says. I turn and see the blonde girl from earlier standing in the doorway, looking between us. "Are you coming?"

"I'm good," Miles says, brushing her off, barely giving her a passing glance. I do though, and I see the way she's looking at me.

She comes closer attaching herself to Miles' arm, and it's all I can do but not to roll my eyes at the passive-aggressiveness. 

"Hi," she says all bright white teeth and long tan limbs. "I'm Kim, I don't think we've met?"

"Mia," I say with a little wave. My eyes slide to Miles who looks frustrated. The set of his jaw, his body still angled towards me and not her... it's telling.

"Mia… like, Luke's Mia?"

I grimace, wondering how I only noticed tonight that no one refers to me as an individual but as a person who belongs to someone else. Like a possession. Maybe I didn't mind before, but I do now.

"Not Luke's Mia," I respond dully, wishing I could chug my drink and leave.

"Oh. I could've sworn he was just looking for you?" Kim carries on, her smile big and as fake as her tan.

My face drains rapidly, eyes widening.

Oh, fuck.

"Here? Like, right now?" I ask, desperately hoping that isn't the case.

"Um, yah."

If he finds me here… if he finds me here with Miles…. My legs are moving. I need to leave. Right now.

"Sorry, I've gotta go. Enjoy the rest of your night," I flash both of them a tight smile, trying to be sincere, but dying a little on the inside.

Kim says, "We will," behind me at the same time Miles says, "Mia, wait."

I pretend I haven't heard him, finding my feet as I run down the back porch steps, heels clattering on wood, the sound of hurried, heated, voices being left behind.

I just need to get out of here before everything blows up.