Mia's Heart (The Paradise Diaries) (7 page)

“Not
yet,” I tell him.  “I feel good enough though.”

“Then
you shall go,” he tells me valiantly.  He picks up the call button and a
moment later a nurse appears. 

“Yes?”
she asks pleasantly.  Gavin smiles at her, with a knee-weakening grin.

“Miss
Giannis would love to go for a walk in the sunshine,” he says.  “Would
that be possible?  I’ll walk with her.”

My
gaze meets his and his eyes are sparkling.  It’s no wonder he and I were
good friends.  He’s very likeable. 

The
nurse smiles at him.  No one is impervious to his charms,
apparently. 

“She
has already been cleared for a walk outside,” the nurse tells him. “She just
hasn’t wanted to go.”

Gavin
turns to me.  “No?  Put your clothes on, Mia . We’re going outside.”

I
stare at him.  “I sort of don’t want to.”

“And
why not?” he looks at me.  “Because you’d rather lay in here and feel
sorry for yourself?”

“No.”

Yes.

Gavin
raises an eyebrow. “No?  That’s not what I’ve been told.”

I
look to my mother and she appears guilty. 

“You’ve
been talking about me?” I ask softly.  This actually hurts.  I’ve
been trying really hard this week—to do what everyone has asked of me. And
she’s been talking about me?

“No. 
Yes.  I mean, I have, but only because I’m concerned about you,” she
stammers.  “Gavin has always been able to cheer you up, so I called him.”

I
stare at her, but Gavin interrupts. 

“I’m
going to go outside for a minute, so get your clothes on.  We’re getting
some fresh air.”

“Have
you always been this bossy?” I ask him.  He grins.

“Why,
yes.  Yes, I have.  And you like it.”  He saunters out, not
worried in the slightest that I might actually be agitated with him.

My
mother follows him out and I feel my temper bubbling just beneath the
surface.  But I tamp it down.  I’m sure they’re just concerned. 
Right?

Whatever.

I
swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit for a second. Obviously, I’ve
been out of bed here in the room to shower and use the bathroom and
whatnot.  But the idea of going outside, out into the hospital and into
the world and the sunshine, has made me terrified.

I
don’t want to admit that to anyone because I feel silly.

But
it’s the truth. 

I
don’t know if it’s the accident, or if I’ve always been that way. 

Who’s
to say?

Certainly
not me. 

I
can’t remember anything.

I
pull on some clothing.  A khaki skirt and a cream-colored blouse.  A
pair of tan ballet flats.  These clothes feel foreign.  I can’t
believe I would choose clothing so bland. And so…
beige.
But apparently,
I did. 

Apparently,
I was a bland person.

And
I use the word
apparently
a lot.

I
pull a brush through my hair and stare in the mirror.

Dark
brown hair, green eyes.  I’m sort of small.  Not small in a weird,
misshapen way, but small, nonetheless.  I guess I’m pretty, although I
look a bit pale from being indoors.  I probably should get some sun. 
Some vitamin D therapy might improve my attitude, too. 

For
some reason, I feel so agitated.  My mother tells me that it’s very
unusual for me, that I’m usually a very cheerful person, but that a certain
level of agitation is normal given the circumstances.

I
don’t know about that.

But
then, I don’t know about anything right now.

And
I’m back to that again.  Sigh.

I
poke my head out into the hall and find my mother and Gavin talking to each
other against the wall.

I
fight back the feeling of annoyance that rises in me, the bad taste that is in
my mouth.

What
the eff?

If
he’s my friend, why is he in cahoots with my mother?

And
where the heck did I get a word like
cahoots
?

Can’t
my friend talk to my mother?  I’m clearly a lunatic.  I wonder if I
was before this accident, too, or if it’s a new thing.

I’m
shaking my head when they notice me. 

Gavin
smiles.

“Are
you ready?”

His
smile is a thousand-watt light-bulb and I relax.  I’m being
hypersensitive, I’m sure.  That’s probably normal, given the
circumstances.

Gavin
holds his arm out and they both smile at me. 

And
once again, I am uneasy, but don’t know why.

“I’m
ready,” I confirm, as I slip my arms around his forearm.  My mother falls
back into my room as Gavin and I make our way down the hall and out of the
hospital.

The
sun hits me squarely in the face and I blink my eyes. 

“You
okay?” Gavin asks quietly.  He has apparently noticed that my feet are now
frozen to the ground and I am refusing to move from this spot.

“Yeah,”
I mumble.  “I just feel intimidated by coming out here.  I don’t know
why. It makes me feel sort of panicky.”

I’m
such a baby.

I
look around, at the shrubbery in the hospital courtyard, at the benches filled
with visitors and patients, at the flowers, the grass, at the wide open blue
sky above us.  And all I can do is to try and still my racing heart. 
I don’t know why I’m so anxious about this place.  It’s irrational.

“You
know,” Gavin says quietly as he leads me around the path.  “We were here
last year.  Our friend Dante had a car accident.  And when we came
here, we weren’t sure exactly what we were going to find.  We knew he was
alive and they told us that he was okay, but we didn’t really believe it until
we saw it for ourselves.  Maybe that’s it.  Maybe you have some
suppressed memories deep down about that time.  It was pretty emotional. 
It was one of the only times I’ve seen you cry.”

I
look at him.  The sun is shining onto his face, illuminating his already
bright smile.  He’s a gorgeous guy, that much is true.  Strong,
good-looking and self-assured.  That’s a good recipe for destruction.

“I
don’t cry?” I ask hesitantly.  That doesn’t seem right.  Because
right now, I feel like a blubbering mess on the inside.  Gavin shakes his
head.

“Not
usually.  You’re pretty bad-ass.”

I
have to smile at that.  “Bad ass?”

He
nods.  “Yup.  Totally bad-ass.”

“Tell
me why you say that,” I instruct him. 

We
continue walking around the pretty landscaped sidewalk as Gavin tells me
escapades of my youth, beginning from the time we were in primary school. He
speaks smoothly and calmly as we walk around patients who are walking slower
than we are. 

“And
then there was the time that you got the assistant principal at school fired-
when we were only in fourth grade.  You thought he discriminated against
you because he was a pacifist and your father was the minister of defense.”

“
Did
he discriminate against me?” I ask, with my eyebrow raised.

Gavin
nods. “It sure seemed like it.”

“So,
I’m ballsy.”

Gavin
laughs.  “Yes, you’re ballsy.”

“Why
are you and I such good friends?  Have we always been?  Have we ever
dated?”

Gavin
stares at me.

“You
truly don’t remember anything, do you?” he asks softly.  There is sympathy
in his eyes and I hate that. I’m not asking for sympathy.  I’m just trying
to learn more about myself. 

“Don’t
feel sorry for me, Gav,”I tell him. “I don’t need sympathy.”

He
stares at me again.

“You
just called me Gav,” he points out quietly. “I haven’t told you that you used
to do that.”

I
am instantly still.  Holy crap.  He’s right.

“I
don’t know where that came from,” I admit.  “It just came out. It felt natural.”

“It’s
your memory,” Gavin decides confidently.  “Subconsciously, in there
somewhere, you know me.” He grins.  “Because seriously, dude, how could
you truly forget
me?”

He
is cocky and arrogant and pleasingly so.  I smile back.

“I
don’t know.  It’s like I got hit on the head or something.  Oh,
wait.  I did.”

He
laughs and I laugh and it suddenly seems normal to hang out with him. 
Relaxed. Friendly.  Normal.  I’m digging it.  So I tell him
that.

He
looks surprised.

“Did
you doubt that you would?”  He is cocky again.  “Your favorite time
of the day is always Gavin Time.”

“Gavin
Time?” I repeat doubtfully.  “Are you always this sure of yourself?” I
ask, one eyebrow cocked.  He laughs.  He tightens his grip on my
elbow and I enjoy the feeling of his warm fingers on my skin. 

“Always,”
he says, leaning in toward me like he’s confiding something.  “It’s one of
the things you love about me.”

“So
I love things about you, then?” I ask, laughing.

Gavin
smiles.  “Of course you do.  Everyone does.” 

He
winks and laughs and I laugh again. 

“Have
we ever had sex?” I ask.  Gavin’s head snaps back and he stares at me
again, his eyes sparkling and appraising. 

“Not
yet,” he says.  “Would you like to?” 

He
nudges me and laughs, but now I’m on a mission to find out things about myself
that my mother probably wouldn’t know, so I ignore his charming grin.

“Am
I a virgin?” I ask hesitantly.  “Do you know?”

He
stares at me yet again, but this time he actually seems uncomfortable.  If
it was possible to squirm while standing in an upright position, he’d totally
be doing it.  It makes me uneasy.

“What?”
I ask.  “Am I a slut?”

He
rolls his eyes.  “No.  You’re not a slut.  Far from it. 
But you’re not a virgin, either.”

“But
we haven’t had sex?” I ask again.  He winks.

“Not
yet.”

“Do
I have a boyfriend?” I ask uncertainly.  Because if I do, I certainly
don’t remember it. 

Gavin
looks unsettled and ignores my question.

“You
know,” he muses.  “I could have totally played this whole situation to my advantage. 
Let’s start over again.  Ask me again if you are a virgin.”

I
smile.  “Am I a virgin?”

He
shakes his head solemnly.  “No. You’re not.  You and I have wild,
passionate jungle sex about four times a day. You love it.  And we should
probably take it back up again.  I think it would help your recovery
process to get back into your normal routine.”

I
roll my eyes and giggle, ignoring the disapproving look of an elderly lady with
a walker. 

“Only
four times a day?” I ask innocently.  “Are we slackers, then?”

“Oh,
don’t tempt me,” Gavin answers.  “We can increase the rate.  I’m up
for anything. Anytime, anywhere.  That’s practically my motto. 
Always ready. I should get that tattooed somewhere. Maybe on my ass.”

I
roll my eyes.

“Seriously. 
Do I have a boyfriend?  Besides you, I mean,” I amend quickly.  He
smiles. 

“No. 
You don’t.  Not anymore.”

He
looks rattled now, like he wishes he wouldn’t have added that last part.

“What?”
I ask.  “Not anymore?  Who was I with?  We broke up?”

Gavin
is definitely uncomfortable now.  He looks away and puts a lot of effort
into steering me around a slower walker.  I stop in the middle of the path
and put my hands on my hips.

“Gavin,
seriously.  Just tell me.  My mom doesn’t seem to want to talk about
any of this stuff.”  And I had tried several times over the course of the
past week.  She just changed the subject and told me that I was an honor
student and was a joy as a daughter, etc, etc.  She laid it on so thick
that I’m actually a little suspicious of all of it.

Gavin
sighs. 

“You
did have a boyfriend, of sorts.  You told me that you weren’t in love with
him, that you were
in lust
with him.  He took your virginity and
used you to get information.  And then he tried to kill our best friends
and the Prime Minister of Caberra.”

Chapter Eight

“Holy
shit,” I breathe, staring at Gavin.  “You aren’t joking.”

Gavin
shakes his head, his normally cheerful demeanor suddenly very serious.

“I
wish I were,” he answers.  “But I’m not.  Vincent Dranias was your
boyfriend.  You trusted him.  And he screwed you over.  He’s in
jail now.”

“Jail?”
I whisper.  My eyes are watery and I’m annoyed by that.  Apparently,
I’m not supposed to cry.  I’m a bad ass.  I wipe at my eyes
impatiently.