The late afternoon sun slanted through the crooked blinds of Alex’s living room, casting lazy stripes of light across the worn-out couch where he sprawled, one leg dangling over the armrest. The coffee table in front of him was a battlefield of empty beer cans and a half-eaten pizza, the crusts curling at the edges like they’d given up on life. Alex, in a faded T-shirt and sweatpants, flicked through TV channels with the enthusiasm of a sloth, the remote dangling loosely in his hand. It was a Saturday afternoon, and he had no plans beyond maybe ordering another pizza if the hunger hit. Life, as it stood, was a comfortable, if uninspired, mess.
The doorbell jolted him out of his stupor, a sharp, insistent buzz that cut through the drone of some infomercial about miracle mop heads. He groaned, hauling himself up with the grace of a hungover bear. “Alright, alright, I’m coming,” he muttered, shuffling to the door. He didn’t even bother to check the peephole—probably just the neighbor complaining about the music he’d blasted last night.
When he swung the door open, though, his jaw nearly hit the floor. Standing there, one hip cocked and a smirk sharp enough to cut glass, was Mia fucking Carver. High school Mia. Firecracker Mia. The girl who’d once convinced him to sneak into the principal’s office for a dare and then left him holding the bag when they got caught. She looked... well, she looked like trouble wrapped in tight jeans and a leather jacket, her dark hair spilling over one shoulder in a way that screamed she didn’t give a damn about anything, least of all what he thought.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Alex Harper, king of the sad bachelor pad,” she drawled, her green eyes glinting with mischief as they swept over him, then past him into the apartment. “Christ, it smells like regret and pepperoni in here. You gonna invite me in, or do I have to storm the castle?”
Alex blinked, still processing the fact that she was here, in the flesh, after—what, ten years? “Uh, yeah, sure, come in,” he stammered, stepping aside just as she pushed past him without waiting for the green light. Her boots clicked on the hardwood, and she surveyed the room like a general assessing a war zone.
“Wow, Harper, you’ve really made something of yourself,” she said, her voice dripping with mock admiration as she nudged an empty beer can with the toe of her boot. “This place is a goddamn shrine to mediocrity. What, no ambition since high school? Still dreaming of being a rock star while living like a roadie?”
Alex shut the door, a grin tugging at his lips despite himself. Mia always had a way of cutting straight to the bone, but damn if it didn’t feel good to hear that razor-sharp tongue again. “Hey, I’ve got dreams,” he shot back, crossing his arms. “They just involve a lot of napping and not giving a shit. And what about you, huh? Last I heard, you were off saving the world or breaking hearts—or both. What brings you to my humble dump?”
Mia turned to face him, hands on her hips, her smirk widening. “Oh, I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d check if you’d finally grown a spine. Spoiler alert: you haven’t.” She didn’t wait for a response, striding over to the couch and plopping down like she owned the place, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table and knocking over a can in the process. “Clean this shit up, Alex. I’m not sitting in a landfill.”
He raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-annoyed. “You show up unannounced after a decade and start barking orders? You haven’t changed a bit, Carver.”
“And you’ve changed too much—into a slob,” she fired back, her eyes sparkling with challenge. “Move it, or I’ll start charging you for interior decorating advice. First tip: burn it all.”
With a dramatic sigh, Alex started gathering up the cans, tossing them into a plastic bag while Mia watched, clearly enjoying herself. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, chin in her hands. “You know, I remember you being halfway decent back in the day. Sneaking out, raising hell. What happened to that guy? Did he die under a pile of pizza boxes?”
“Maybe he grew up,” Alex said, shooting her a sideways glance as he straightened up, bag in hand. “Maybe he got tired of following your bad ideas. Like that time you thought skinny-dipping in the town lake at midnight was ‘epic.’ I still have nightmares about those leeches.”
Mia threw her head back and laughed, a rich, throaty sound that hit him square in the chest. “Oh, come on, you loved it. You just didn’t love getting caught by Old Man Jenkins with his flashlight. I swear, your face was whiter than the moon that night.”
“Yeah, well, you’re the one who bolted and left me to explain why I was buck-naked in his backyard,” he retorted, dumping the bag by the kitchen door and heading back to the couch. “You owe me for that trauma.”
“Bill me,” she said with a wink, then hopped up and made a beeline for his fridge. She yanked it open with zero hesitation, bending over to inspect the contents while giving him an eyeful of the way those jeans hugged her curves. Alex swallowed hard, trying to focus on literally anything else.
“Jesus, Alex, is this it? Expired ketchup and a sad little container of... what even is this, mystery meat?” She held up a Tupperware, wrinkling her nose. “You’re a walking health hazard.”
“It’s edible,” he said defensively, leaning against the counter. “Mostly. And I wasn’t expecting company, Your Highness.”
Mia straightened up, grabbing two beers from the fridge before kicking it shut with her heel. “Lucky for you, I’m low-maintenance,” she said, popping the caps off with the edge of the counter like she’d done it a thousand times. She sauntered back over, handing him one with a smirk. “Cheers to old times, loser.”
They clinked bottles, and Alex took a long sip, watching her over the rim. She settled back onto the couch, closer this time, her knee brushing against his as she stretched out. “So,” she said, her tone shifting to something softer, more dangerous. “You got a girl keeping this dump warm, or are you still hopeless with women?”
He snorted, nearly choking on his beer. “Says the chick who once dumped a guy by texting him a picture of his stuff on the curb. I’m doing fine, thanks. What about you? Still chewing up hearts and spitting them out?”
Mia grinned, slow and predatory, taking a sip of her beer without breaking eye contact. “Only the ones that deserve it. But I’m not here to talk about my conquests, Alex. I’m here to see if you’ve still got any fight in you. Or are you just gonna sit there, looking like a kicked puppy, hoping I’ll throw you a bone?”
The air between them crackled, her words laced with a challenge he couldn’t ignore. He leaned forward slightly, matching her intensity. “Careful, Mia. Keep talking like that, and I might think you’re here for more than just catching up.”
“Oh, honey,” she purred, setting her beer down and shifting even closer, her thigh pressing deliberately against his. “I don’t do ‘just catching up.’ If I’m here, it’s because I want something. Question is, can you keep up?” Her hand brushed against his arm, light but intentional, sending a jolt through him.
Alex’s breath hitched, but he managed a smirk. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Carver. What if I call your bluff?”
She leaned in, her lips hovering just inches from his ear, her voice a hot, teasing whisper. “Try me, Harper. I dare you.”
And just like that, the lazy Saturday afternoon turned into something a hell of a lot more interesting.
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