Chapter 3 Apology not accepted

Mia's POV

Tyler's face went through about six different emotions before landing on something between embarrassed and pissed.

“You’re dating Ethan Cross now?” Tyler asked.

Something about his tone made my skin crawl.

Ethan’s arm stayed loose around my shoulders. 

“Problem?” he asked casually.

Tyler’s jaw tightened.

For a second I thought he was actually going to argue.

“No problem at all.” His eyes slid to me. “Didn’t realize you moved on that fast.”

Moved on.

As if there’d ever been anything to move on from.

“We literally never dated,” I said.

Tyler ignored me completely.

His attention stayed fixed on Ethan, “See you around, Mia.”

He shuffled away, but not before shooting me a look that promised this wasn't over. Great. Another problem for Future Mia to deal with.

The second he was gone, I shoved Ethan's arm off my shoulders and spun to face him.

"What the hell was that?"

He blinked. "A thank you would be nice."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"You didn't have to. That guy was being a creep."

"I can handle Tyler."

"Right. That's why you looked so comfortable with his hands all over you."

"That's not…" I stopped, frustrated. "You can't just claim I'm your girlfriend out of the blue like that."

"Would you prefer I told him the truth?" He leaned against the wall, all casual arrogance. "That you're the girl who assaulted me with champagne?"

"I'd prefer if you stayed out of my business entirely."

I turned to walk away. 

“Wait.” He stopped me. He was quiet for a moment, then ran a hand through his hair. "Look, about last night..."

I waited. 

“I was drunk,” he said. “And being an asshole.”

“You were.”

“I’m trying to apologize here.”

“Are you?” I asked. “Because I’ve still not heard the apology.” 

"I'm not very good at this." He stopped, frustrated. "I don't usually apologize."

"Shocking."

"Can you just..." He exhaled. "I'm sorry. Okay? I was an ass."

Something shifted in his expression. For a second, he almost looked... genuine.

“I’m listening.”

"I made you uncomfortable," he continued, quieter this time. "I was drunk and stupid and I crossed a line. It won't happen again."

I studied his face, looking for the catch. But he actually seemed sincere.

"Okay," I said finally.

"Okay?"

"Apology accepted."

His mouth curved into that trademark smirk. "See? We can be civil."

"Don't push it."

His laugh caught me off guard. 

“So,” he said.

“So.”

"Do you come to parties often?" He moved closer, just slightly. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at one."

“I didn’t come here to party.” I responded. "I'm here to tutor Derek. "

Ethan laughed. "You came to a rager to tutor?"

"He blackmailed me."

"Of course he did." He shook his head, still grinning. "You know he's probably passed out in the pool house by now, right?"

"Fantastic."

That's when I actually looked at him. Really looked at him.

He had to be at least 6'4", towering over my 5'5" even in my heels. His dark hair was perfectly messy in that way that looked effortless but somehow made him more attractive. Green eyes that had gold flecks in them when the light hit right. A jawline that could cut glass. And he smelled like... God, what was that? Something expensive and woody that made me want to lean in closer.

"You're staring," he said, voice dropping lower.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm just…observing."

"What's the verdict?"

"Jury's still out."

He grinned. "I could help sway the vote."

"That would be tampering with the jury."

"I've been told I'm very persuasive."

Was he... was he actually flirting with me?

"Is this your move?" I asked. "Save girl from creep, apologize badly, then hit on her?"

"Is it working?"

"No."

"Liar."

Okay, maybe a little. But I wasn't going to tell him that.

"So," he said, leaning closer. "Since Derek's probably unconscious and you're already here, want to get a drink?"

"I don't drink."

"Right. You just throw drinks."

"Only at people who deserve it."

"Fair." He was definitely closer now. When did that happen? "Dance?"

"I don't dance either."

"What do you do for fun?"

"I work three jobs and try not to have a mental breakdown. I don’t have time for fun."

“You work three jobs?” His eyebrows lifted. “Jesus. That sounds miserable.”

“It is.”

“Why?”

I stared at him.

“Why what?”

“Why work that much?”

Because electricity costs money, Ethan.

Because tuition costs money.

Because life costs money.

“You cannot genuinely be asking me that question.”

“I mean…” He shrugged. “My grandfather always says people overwork themselves trying to live above their means.”

There it was.

Rich people nonsense.

I felt my entire mood shift instantly.

“You think poor people are poor because they budget badly?”

His forehead creased slightly.

“That’s not what I said.”

“That's exactly what you said.”

“No, I just meant people kill themselves trying to afford stuff they don’t actually need.”

I laughed once.

“Right. Because groceries and rent are luxury experiences.”

“That’s not…”

“You know what?” I cut him off. “Forget it.”

His expression tightened.

“Mia.”

“No, seriously. This was my mistake.”

“What was?”

“Temporarily forgetting you’re exactly like every other rich guy. Spoiled and completely oblivious to the real world.”

His jaw sharpened slightly at that.

“That’s unfair.”

“Is it?”

“You don’t even know me.”

"I know enough. I know you've never had to choose between textbooks and groceries. Never had to smile while someone degrades you because you need the tip money. Never had to…"

"You're right."

I stopped mid-rant. "What?"

"You're right," he repeated, but his face had gone cold. "I don't know what it's like to be poor. But you don't know what it's like to be me either. So maybe get off your high horse about who has it harder."

"Are you seriously playing the 'poor little rich boy' card right now?"

"I'm saying you don't know shit about my life."

"I know you've never had to throw champagne at someone just to keep your dignity."

“I already apologized for that.”

"Which I'm officially taking back. Apology unaccepted. Go fuck yourself, Cross."

I turned to storm off, but his hand caught my wrist. Not hard, just enough to stop me.

"Mia."

"Let. Go."

He did, immediately. But the damage was done.

Because three feet away, at least four phones were pointed at us.

Recording everything.

"Shit," I whispered.

Ethan followed my gaze. His face went pale.

"Champagne Girl Part Two!" someone yelled.

The phones moved closer. 

I was already pushing through the crowd, heading for the door, my face burning and my chest tight.

Behind me, I heard Ethan call my name.

I didn't stop.

Outside, the cool air hit my face and I finally let myself breathe.

My phone was already buzzing.

Sophie: WHAT IS HAPPENING PEOPLE ARE GOING LIVE!

I tapped on the link and the video of us fighting was already uploaded. 

“You have got to be kidding me.”