Thank God. Mia exhaled, the tension sucked from her bones. Grabbing the handle of her cleaning supplies’ carrier, she made her way up the stairs and entered the kitchen. Baun’s toned legs stemmed from the stainless steel refrigerator door, light washing them whiter than they were. The door shut. “There you are!” A white tank showed off the long muscles in Baun’s tattooed arms as she popped a piece of cantaloupe in her mouth. Juice oozed from her teeth, beading at her lower lip until she closed her mouth to chew. Mia reminded herself to breathe.Chewing, Baun shook her head. Brushed her long red hair from her eyes and planted her palm on the counter, laser focused on Mia. She held up a couple of fingers and swallowed. “Two. Two models showed up and both were high. So fucking unprofessional. They make us all look bad.”“Oh. I’m sorry. That sucks.” Mia set her carrier on the floor. “Right? Ridiculous.” Baun ran her hand through her hair, spilling it over her bare. She certainly didn't ride the bus, and I'd never seen her leave the house before Jeanne and I did, even on the days we were driving. I knew she went to school, of course; I'd seen her there. She didn't have lunch at the same time Jeanne and I did — sophomores shared a fifth period lunch with freshmen, while juniors and seniors had sixth period lunch — but I'd seen her in the halls now and then. Up until today, though, it had never occurred to me to wonder how she got there.My newfound curiosity may have been prompted by my actually having spent a good bit of time with her the previous evening watching the Super Bowl. She had asked a lot of questions, and when Dave's answers proved as technical and convoluted as Dad's, she plonked herself down next to me on the couch. Until I'd fallen asleep, confident that there was no way the Bears could possibly come back, we'd actually been connecting on some superficial level.Or it may have been simply that, for the first time in a month, I was.
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