Mia
“All right, so where do we start?” I ask, holding up the paper. My voice is already dripping with annoyance because, honestly, this guy just existing near me is fucking exhausting.
“We can start by getting to know each other,” Damon says, flashing that stupid, cocky grin that probably works on every other girl but me.
I ignore him and keep walking.
“Mia Jackson, right? What a lovely name you got there.” His voice is so smug I can practically feel it.
I stop dead in my tracks and whip around to glare at him. “How the hell do you know my last name?”
“I did my research,” he says with a wink, like he’s in some movie where stalking is cute.
“Stalker,” I mutter under my breath, turning back to the clue. I read it aloud: “I’m something sweet, striped red and white. Find me where stars shine bright.”
Damon tilts his head like he’s thinking real hard-which, let’s be honest, is probably rare for him. “Hmmm. Got any ideas?”
“Nope. But I do know one thing,” I glare at him. “You’re fucking annoying.”
Damon just grins like I handed him a compliment. “Why are you so mean to me?”
“Because you exist!”
“Ouch. You know, you’re lying,” he says, his grin widening. “All the girls would kill to be my mate.” He spreads his arms like he’s presenting himself on a goddamn game show. “I mean, come on, just look at me.”
I do look…unfortunately, but only to roll my eyes so hard I might sprain something. “Wow. You’re so attractive with your boring-ass brown eyes and your stupid, floppy black hair. And don’t even get me started on your annoyingly broad shoulders. Ugh. The worst.”
“You’re checking me out.”
“No, I’m assessing how much effort it would take to shove you off this ship.”
He laughs, like this is all some big joke to him. “You’re feisty. I like that.”
“Kill me now,” I mutter, wishing I’d just stayed in the suite with Lily.
I sigh, long and loud, just to make sure Damon knows exactly how much he’s testing my patience. “I wonder how Aria and Ethan are doing right now,” I mutter, hoping to steer the conversation away from his annoying ass.
“This isn’t about them,” he says with a grin. “This is about us.”
I stop walking and give him the kind of look you give a toddler when they’re drawing on the walls with permanent markers. “Let’s just search for the clue, Damon.”
“Okay,” he says, all smug-like. “But, uh… why?”
“Why what?” I roll my eyes.
“Why do you hate me so much?” He sighs, like this is some deeply philosophical debate. “Did I do something to you?”
“Why should I like you?” I snap. “You’re a rude jerk. A fuck-ass player. And you walk around like I’m supposed to swoon just because you’re breathing near me.”
“Now, now,” he says, holding his hands up like he’s the victim here. “Who said I wanna make you swoon? Or, you know… anything else.”
I snort. “Cut the crap, Damon, and move your ass. I don’t like losing.”
He gives me a mock bow. “Fine, lead the way, Miss Sherlock.”
We wander around cluelessly for a while because, spoiler alert, I have no idea where we’re going. Damon finally stops and raises an eyebrow. “By the way, where the hell are we even heading?”
I avert my gaze and bite my lip. “I… uh… don’t know.”
“Let me see it,” he says, holding out his hand.
“What?”
“The clue,” he says, exasperated, like I’m the problem here.
I roll my eyes again (eye-rolling is practically my cardio at this point) and shove the paper at him. “Fine. Knock yourself out, genius.”
He reads it slowly, like he’s deciphering ancient symbols. “‘I’m something sweet, striped red and white. Find me where stars shine bright.'” He nods dramatically. “Could this be any more cliche?”
“Like you know the answer,” I scoff.
“Candy cane,” he mutters.
I stare at him, my mouth hanging open. “Wait.. you knew the answer? And you didn’t say anything? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I wasn’t paying attention,” he says, scratching the back of his neck like he’s embarrassed.
“Yeah, because you were too busy trying to get under my fucking skirt,” I snap. “Let’s just go find it.”
“Where?”
“The hall, obviously. It’s probably raining candy canes in there.”
“Wait, wait.” He holds up his hand like he’s suddenly Einstein. “The clue says ‘stars shining bright.’ I don’t think it’s the hall. It’s probably near the rooftop lounge. Or the deck lights. Come on.”
“Fine, lead the way, Mister Sherlock,” I say with a smirk.
He starts walking, dragging his feet like a kid being told to clean his room. “You know, you don’t have to be so rude all the time,” he begins. “We could start as friends or something.”
“I don’t want to be friends with you,” I yell. “I don’t befriend stuck-up, classist, man-whore losers.”
“Whoa,” he huffs, looking genuinely shocked. “But why do you reserve all this… energy for me? You don’t talk to my friends like this.”
“Because your friends are better than you,” I say with a shrug as we reach the rooftop deck.
The place is empty, except for some twinkling lights hanging over…yep-a candy cane. Damon points at it smugly. “See? I was right.”
I groan. “Okay, enough. Let’s just get it.”
He steps in front of me, blocking my way to the candy cane. “No wait. Tell me. Why do you hate me?”
“Move, Damon,” I snapped, trying to step around him.
But he grabs my arm.. not hard, but enough to stop me. “No, seriously. Why?”
I jerk my arm out of his grasp, my patience snapping. “You really wanna know?”
“Yes,” he says, his voice softer now, almost serious.
“Well, for starters, you’re a fucking jerk. A bastard.” My voice is sharp, laced with frustration. I’m done playing games. He wanted to know? Fine. He’s about to get it all. “Fifth year at the academy. My friends didn’t come to school that day, so I was alone. I was carrying my tray, heading to my seat when…” I pause, taking a shaky breath, trying to push through the knot in my chest.
Damon’s brow furrows. “What happened?”
“You, Damon. You!” My voice rises, and I can feel the anger bubbling over. “You were with your hockey teammates, and you laughed at me. You called me fatso as I walked by. Do you remember? Do you remember how the whole hall erupted in laughter? How you humiliated me just because I dared to look your way? ‘What are you looking at, fatso?’ That’s what you said.”
His face shifts, guilt clouding his features, and it only makes my anger burn hotter. He doesn’t get to look like that now, not after what he did. For years, I struggled with my body, fighting every cruel comment. It took me forever to start embracing who I was-a chubby, curvy girl. There’s nothing wrong with that, and I’m done apologizing for it.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Mia…”
“Don’t fucking start, Damon.” I snap, cutting him off.
“I was… younger.”
“You’re so fucking stupid.” I laugh bitterly, shaking my head. “Younger? It happened last year, Damon. You were seventeen. Same as me. So spare me the bullshit.”
I turn on my heel, heading for the candy cane. I’ve had enough of him and his excuses. But before I can take a step, he grabs my arm.
“Let me go,” I growl, trying to yank my arm free.
“Mia, please, just listen. I-What the fuck?” he mutters, his hand loosening as his gaze shifts behind me.
I spin around, following his line of sight, and my blood boils. Some stupid kids, probably from another team…snatch the candy cane and take off running.
“Oh, HELL no!” I shout. “Get back here, you little shits!”
“This is your fault!” I yell at Damon, who’s already running after them.
“Stay here!” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll handle it!”
Yeah, sure. Like I’m gonna stand around while some brats steal my win. I sprint after them, already planning what I’ll say to Coach John when I’m arrested for murder.