Chapter 18: The Interrogation
"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied, but the smile she couldn't quite suppress gave her away.
"Bullshit," Alyssa said, setting her water bottle down with a clatter. "You have scratch marks all over your ribs. Who was he?"
"Nobody," Mia said quickly.
"Nobody who put marks on you like that," Joanna said, her voice getting higher. "Mia. Mia. Were those bites? Were those bite marks on your neck?"
Mia's hand flew to her neck, covering the telltale mark. "No. That's, um, that's a rash."
"A rash," Cassie repeated, deadpan. "A rash shaped like a perfect oval."
"It was a weird rash."
"Who was he?" Alyssa demanded again, and now the whole room was buzzing with excitement. The girls had abandoned all pretense of stretching, all of them rising from the benches to crowd around Mia. Rachel had pocketed her phone and was looking her up and down with a singularly intense expression.
"Was he on the basketball team?" Joanna asked. "I bet he's on the basketball team."
"Please," Cassie scoffed. "Look at those scratches, Joanna. Those are impact marks, not layup marks. Those come from somebody who knows how to use his hands. Was he a football player? Someone from the wrestling team?"
"Stop it, all of you," Mia said, but she was laughing now, unable to help herself. She held up her hands in a mock surrender. "It's nothing. It was just a thing that happened. A one-time thing."
"Would we know him?"
The question came from Alyssa, sharp and quick, cutting through Mia's flimsy deflection like a hot knife through butter. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her head tilted, and there was a glint in her eye that Mia recognized all too well. It was the same look the girls got when they were dissecting some drama at a party, when they'd cornered a fresh piece of gossip and were determined to tear it apart for every last juicy morsel.
"Nuh-uh," Mia said, and even she could hear how childish it sounded. "He's, um. He's not from around here. He was just passing through. Visiting. Someone I met at, like, a thing."
"A thing," Cassie repeated slowly, savoring the word like it was a piece of candy. "You met him at a thing."
"It was a thing," Mia said, her voice pitching higher than she intended. "A, you know. A get-together. A function. I don't know. I barely remember. It was a whole blur."
"Uh-huh." Cassie uncrossed her legs and stood up, stretching with exaggerated casualness. "And was this 'thing' recently, or was it a while ago?"
"It was a while ago," Mia said, her voice taking on a casual tone that didn't quite match the heat creeping up her neck. "I've known him for, like, a couple of years. He's a friend. A friend who, you know, I happened to... to see things differently with. Recently. During the storm."
"Known him for years," Joanna repeated, her eyes narrowing with delight. "A friend. He's a friend. Oh my God, it's someone we know, isn't it? It's someone in our circle!"
"No, no, it's definitely not," Mia said hurriedly, pulling the waffle top over her head. The fabric settled against her skin, but she knew the damage was already done. The marks on her ribs, the scratches curving along her shoulder blades, the bruises blooming on her hips. "It's nobody from the team. Or the football team. Or any team. He's just a guy."
"A guy who went full feral on you," Cassie said, stepping closer, her eyes gleaming. "Look at you, Mia. You're trying to hide it, but we all saw. You've got marks on your marks. Honey, that's not a one-night thing. That's a whole relationship's worth of passion in one evening."
"It was one night," Mia admitted, and the words came out more dreamy than she'd intended. She caught Lucy's eye across the room, and Lucy was grinning into her water bottle like she'd just won the lottery. "Okay, one storm. The whole storm, technically. But that's it."
Alyssa circled her, slow and appraising, like a shark. "So, we've established it was someone you've known for a while. Someone you felt comfortable enough to spend an entire snowstorm with. And from the looks of those scratches, someone who manhandled you pretty thoroughly."
Mia's cheeks were burning now. "I wouldn't say manhandled. I'd say... highly enthusiastic."
The girls erupted into laughter, a chorus of scandalized giggles that bounced off the metal lockers.
"Highly enthusiastic," Rachel said, finally pocketing her phone completely. "That's such a diplomatic way of saying 'he left you looking like a crime scene.'"
"He didn't leave me looking like a crime scene," Mia protested weakly.
"Babe, I saw the scratches. They go from your shoulder blades to your ribs. That's, like, the path of a man who was holding you down."
Mia opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. Rachel wasn't wrong, exactly. Jake had held her. He'd pressed her into the mattress, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise, his mouth working against her neck while he drove into her. And she'd scratched his back until her fingers were sore, leaving marks she'd traced in the dark afterward, feeling them raise and throb under her touch like a prayer.
"Okay, look," Mia said, putting her hands on her hips, assuming an attitude that was far more bravado than she actually felt. "I'm not going to stand here and be interrogated like a criminal. I had a good time. A really good time. With a friend. That's all you're getting."
"Yeah, that's not going to fly," Cassie said, advancing on her with the grin of a predator. "You showed up to practice covered in hickeys and claw marks, and you think you're just going to waltz in here and not give us the full rundown? Please. That's not how this works."
"Cassie's right," Joanna said, moving to flank Mia from the other side. "The sisterhood requires full disclosure. We've all shared. Alyssa told us about her chili and her 'I love you.' Cassie told us about Marcus's candles and his homemade chicken parm. I told you all about my Gilmore Girls marathon even though it wasn't interesting. You owe us the details of your highly enthusiastic friend."
Mia looked around the room, at the ring of eager, hungry faces closing in on her, and knew she was outnumbered. Lucy, from her leaning spot against the lockers, raised her water bottle in a mock toast, her expression clearly saying: you walked into this one, babe.
"Fine," Mia said, blowing out a breath. "But I'm not telling you his name."
"That's acceptable," Alyssa said. "For now. The name will come out eventually. We're patient people."
"We're the opposite of patient people," Rachel corrected. "But we'll pretend."
"Deal," Mia said, and the girls swarmed her, pulling her back toward the bench, settling around her like she was the center of a campfire and the marks on her skin were the flames.
The girls pulled her onto the bench like she was a trophy, a victory lap, their hands grabbing at her arms and shoulders, tugging her down into the center of their circle. Cassie planted herself on one side of her, Joanna on the other, and Alyssa crouched in front of her with her elbows on her knees, her eyes gleaming with the focused intensity of a detective about to crack a cold case.