He doesn't know why he keeps coming back.
He blames it all on the sudden pressure that's been put on him because there's something about dating a queen that puts everyone's attention on you. Because really, he'd never been one for all these social niceties and so he reasons, he goes for an escape.
Nobody would look for him at the Rinaldi's home after all and Mia spends most afternoons nowadays at home, watching bad reality television and even though he cannot stand any of them, he bares them for the sake of boredom.
Things are oddly not awkward at all between them. She doesn't mention what happened and neither does he. It's like they made a silent promise to each other to forget about the entire thing.
That's not true at all thought because he finds himself unable to forget what happened, most nights he lies awake replaying in his head every touch and every sound and he feels his throat well up with guilt as he lays in bed with Lissa who's oblivious to just how everything's changed.
Everything feels different for him, like one thing's been removed or added and now he can't feel the same way about anything more. Mia seems so normal and uncaring about it all and it frustrates him to no end. While he's very close to having a breakdown, she's licking a Popsicle and watching Jershey Shore so scot free and dandy it makes his head hurt.
Maybe it's just how she worked (very few things did faze Mia Rinaldi) but he expects at least some kind of reaction from her, an acknowledgement she's going crazy just as much as he is.
No man can concentrate properly when a pretty girl sucks on a Popsicle like she does, all reverent of the sweet like it's sent from the heavens itself. Her pink tongue coming out to wet her bee-stung lips so many times, it takes all his self control not to pounce on her on the couch and have his way with her.
It's an excruciating hour as she finishes the sweet and is completely oblivious to the kind of torture she's inflicting on him. She finally only sees his intense expression when she finishes and asks with a curious, "What?"
He blissfully, finally pounces on her, he pushes her down on the couch and kisses her with a passion that makes her gasp and moan and all those needy little noises he's been dreaming about. She tastes sweet like the ice cream and that honey flavor of hers and she's very sweet, too sweet and he can't get enough.
He feels addicted and heady and dying in the pleasure of extremes. She's all softness, sweetness and willing to follow his lead. She takes off his shirt and then her dress and she's porcelain and all-girl.
She's perfect, addictive and incredible and he never wants to stop.
"W-What are you doing?" She asks as he licks her neck, smelling that flowery scent.
"I...I don't know," He merely replies before kissing her again and it continues.
He spends the rest of the afternoon drunk in flowers, ice cream and honey.