Somebody stabbed you in the neck

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TATE
“Somebodystabbedyouintheneck,younglady.”
Myeyeswiden,andIslowlyturntowardtheelderlygentlemanstandingatmyside.Hepressestheupbuttonontheelevatorandfacesme.Hesmilesandpointstomyneck.
“Yourbirthmark,”hesays.
Myhandinstinctivelygoesuptomyneck,andItouchthedime-sizedmarkjustbelowmyear.
“Mygrandfatherusedtosaytheplacementofabirthmarkwasthestoryofhowapersonlostthebattleintheirpastlife.Iguessyougotstabbedintheneck.Betitwasaquickdeath,though.”
Ismile,butIcan’ttellifIshouldbeafraidorentertained.Despitehissomewhatmorbidopeningconversation,hecan’tbethatdangerous.Hiscurvedpostureandshakystancegiveawaythatheisn’tadaylessthaneightyyearsold.Hetakesafewslowstepstowardoneoftwovelvetredchairsthatarepositionedagainstthewallnexttotheelevator.Hegruntsashesinksintothechairandthenlooksupatmeagain.
“Yougoinguptoflooreighteen?”
MyeyesnarrowasIprocesshisquestion.HesomehowknowswhatfloorI’mgoingto,eventhoughthisisthefirsttimeI’veeversetfootinthisapartmentcomplex,andit’sdefinitelythefirsttimeI’veeverlaideyesonthisman.
“Yes,sir,”Isaycautiously.“Doyouworkhere?”
“Idoindeed.”
Henodshisheadtowardtheelevator,andmyeyesmovetotheilluminatednumbersoverhead.Elevenfloorstogobeforeitarrives.Iprayitgetsherequickly.
“Ipushthebuttonfortheelevator,”hesays.“Idon’tthinkthere’sanofficialtitleformyposition,butIliketorefertomyselfasaflightcaptain,consideringIdosendpeopleashighastwentystoriesupintheair.”
Ismileathiswords,sincemybrotherandfatherarebothpilots.“Howlonghaveyoubeenflightcaptainofthiselevator?”IaskasIwait.IswearthisistheslowestdamnelevatorI’veeverencountered.
“SinceIgottoooldtodomaintenanceonthisbuilding.Workedherethirty-twoyearsbeforeIbecamecaptain.Beensendingpeopleonflightsnowformorethanfifteenyears,Ithink.OwnergavemeapityjobtokeepmebusytillIdied.”Hesmilestohimself.“Whathedidn’trealizeisthatGodgavemealotofgreatthingstoaccomplishinmylife,andrightnow,I’msofarbehindIain’tevergonnadie.”
Ifindmyselflaughingwhentheelevatordoorsfinallyopen.IreachdowntograbthehandleofmysuitcaseandturntohimonemoretimebeforeIstepinside.“What’syourname?”
“Samuel,butcallmeCap,”hesays.“Everybodyelsedoes.”
“Yougotanybirthmarks,Cap?”
Hegrins.“Asamatteroffact,Ido.Seemsinmypastlife,Iwasshotrightintheass.Musthavebledout.”
Ismileandbringmyhandtomyforehead,givinghimapropercaptain’ssalute.Istepintotheelevatorandturnaroundtofacetheopendoors,admiringtheextravaganceofthelobby.Thisplaceseemsmorelikeahistorichotelthananapartmentcomplex,withitsexpansivecolumnsandmarblefloors.
WhenCorbinsaidIcouldstaywithhimuntilIfoundajob,Ihadnoideahelivedlikeanactualadult.IthoughtitwouldbesimilartothelasttimeIvisitedhim,rightafterIgraduatedfromhighschool,backwhenhehadfirststartedworkingtowardhispilot’slicense.Thatwasfouryearsandatwo-storysketchycomplexago.That’skindofwhatIwasexpecting.
Icertainlywasn’tanticipatingahigh-risesmackdabinthemiddleofdowntownSanFrancisco.
Ifindthepanelandpressthebuttonfortheeighteenthfloor,thenlookupatthemirroredwalloftheelevator.IspentalldayyesterdayandmostofthismorningpackingupeverythingIownfrommyapartmentbackinSanDiego.Luckily,Idon’townmuch.Butaftermakingthesolofive-hundred-miledrivetoday,myexhaustionisprettyevidentinmyreflection.Myhairisinalooseknotontopofmyhead,securedwithapencil,sinceIcouldn’tfindahairtiewhileIwasdriving.Myeyesareusuallyasbrownasmyhazelnuthair,butrightnow,theylooktenshadesdarker,thankstothebagsunderthem.
IreachintomypursetofindatubeofChapStick,hopingtosalvagemylipsbeforetheyendupasweary-lookingastherestofme.Assoonastheelevatordoorsbegintoclose,theyopenagain.Aguyisrushingtowardtheelevators,preparingtowalkonasheacknowledgestheoldman.“Thanks,Cap,”hesays.
Ican’tseeCapfrominsidetheelevator,butIhearhimgruntsomethinginreturn.Hedoesn’tsoundnearlyaseagertomakesmalltalkwiththisguyashewaswithme.Thismanlookstobeinhislatetwentiesatmost.Hegrinsatme,andIknowexactlywhat’sgoingthroughhismind,consideringhejustslidhislefthandintohispocket.
Thehandwiththeweddingringonit.
“Floorten,”hesayswithoutlookingawayfromme.Hiseyesfalltowhatlittlecleavageispeekingoutofmyshirt,andthenhelooksatthesuitcasebymyside.Ipressthebuttonforfloorten.Ishouldhavewornasweater.
“Movingin?”heasks,blatantlystaringatmyshirtagain.
Inod,althoughIdoubthenotices,consideringhisgazeisn’tplantedanywherenearmyface.
“Whatfloor?”
Oh,no,youdon’t.Ireachbesidemeandcoverallthebuttonsonthepanelwithmyhandstohidetheilluminatedeighteenth-floorbutton,andthenIpresseverysinglebuttonbetweenfloorstenandeighteen.Heglancesatthepanel,confused.
“Noneofyourbusiness,”Isay.
Helaughs.
HethinksI’mkidding.
Hearcheshisdark,thickeyebrow.It’saniceeyebrow.It’sattachedtoaniceface,whichisattachedtoanicehead,whichisattachedtoanicebody.
Amarriedbody.
Asshole.
Hegrinsseductivelyafterseeingmecheckhimout—onlyIwasn’tcheckinghimoutthewayhethinksIwas.Inmymind,Iwaswonderinghowmanytimesthatbodyhasbeenpressedagainstagirlwhowasn’thiswife.
Ifeelsorryforhiswife.
He’slookingatmycleavageagainwhenwereachfloorten.“Icanhelpyouwiththat,”hesays,noddingtowardmysuitcase.Hisvoiceisnice.Iwonderhowmanygirlshavefallenforthatmarriedvoice.Hewalkstowardmeandreachestothepanel,bravelypressingthebuttonthatclosesthedoors.
Iholdhisstareandpressthebuttontoopenthedoors.“I’vegotit.”
Henodsasifheunderstands,butthere’sstillawickedgleaminhiseyesthatreaffirmsmyimmediatedislikeofhim.Hestepsoutoftheelevatorandturnstofacemebeforewalkingaway.
“Catchyoulater,Tate,”hesays,justasthedoorsclose.
Ifrown,notcomfortablewiththefactthattheonlytwopeopleI’veinteractedwithsincewalkingintothisapartmentbuildingalreadyknowwhoIam.
Iremainaloneontheelevatorasitstopsoneverysingleflooruntilitreachestheeighteenth.Istepoff,pullmyphoneoutofmypocket,andopenupmymessagestoCorbin.Ican’trememberwhichapartmentnumberhesaidwashis.It’seither1816or1814.
Maybeit’s1826?
Icometoastopat1814,becausethere’saguypassedoutonthefloorofthehallway,leaningagainstthedoorto1816.
Pleasedon’tletitbe1816.
Ifindthemessageonmyphoneandcringe.It’s1816.
Ofcourseitis.
Iwalkslowlytothedoor,hopingIdon’twakeuptheguy.Hislegsaresprawledoutinfrontofhim,andhe’sleaningwithhisbackproppedupagainstCorbin’sdoor.Hischinistuckedtohischest,andhe’ssnoring.
“Excuseme,”Isay,myvoicejustaboveawhisper.
Hedoesn’tmove.
Iliftmylegandpokehisshoulderwithmyfoot.“Ineedtogetintothisapartment.”
Herustlesandthenslowlyopenshiseyesandstaresstraightaheadatmylegs
Hiseyesmeetmyknees,andhiseyebrowsfurrowasheslowlyleansforwardwithadeepscowlonhisface.Heliftsahandandpokesmykneewithhisfinger,almostasifhe’sneverseenakneebefore.Hedropshishand,closeshiseyes,andfallsbackasleepagainstthedoor.
Great.
Corbinwon’tbebackuntiltomorrow,soIdialhisnumbertoseeifthisguyissomeoneIshouldbeconcernedabout.
“Tate?”heasks,answeringhisphonewithoutahello.
“Yep,”Ireply.“Madeitsafe,butIcan’tgetinbecausethere’sadrunkguypassedoutatyourfrontdoor.Suggestions?”
“Eighteensixteen?”heasks.“Yousureyou’reattherightapartment?”
“Positive.”
“Areyousurehe’sdrunk?”
“Positive.”
“Weird,”hesays.“What’shewearing?”
“Whydoyouwanttoknowwhathe’swearing?”
“Ifhe’swearingapilot’suniform,heprobablylivesinthebuilding.Thecomplexcontractswithourairline.”
Thisguyisn’twearinganytypeofuniform,butIcan’thelpbutnoticethathisjeansandblackT-shirtdofithimverynicely.
“Nouniform,”Isay.
“Canyougetpasthimwithoutwakinghimup?”
“I’dhavetomovehim.He’llfallinsideifIopenthedoor.”
He’squietforafewsecondswhilehethinks.“GodownstairsandaskforCap,”hesays.“Itoldhimyouwerecomingtonight.Hecanwaitwithyouuntilyou’reinsidetheapartment.”
Isigh,becauseI’vebeendrivingforsixhours,andgoingallthewaybackdownstairsisnotsomethingIfeellikedoingrightnow.IalsosighbecauseCapisthelastpersonwhocouldprobablyhelpinthissituation.
“JuststayonthephonewithmeuntilI’minsideyourapartment.”
Ilikemyplanalotbetter.IbalancemyphoneagainstmyearwithmyshoulderanddiginsidemypurseforthekeyCorbinsentme.Iinsertitintothelockandbegintoopenthedoor,butthedrunkguybeginstofallbackwardwitheveryinchthedooropens.Hegroans,buthiseyesdon’topenagain.
“It’stoobadhe’swasted,”ItellCorbin.“He’snotbad–looking.”
“Tate,justgetyourassinsideandlockthedoorsoIcanhangup.”
Irollmyeyes.He’sstillthesamebossybrotherhealwayswas.Iknewthatmovinginwithhimwouldnotbegoodforourrelationship,consideringhowfatherlyheactedtowardmewhenwewereyounger.However,Ihadnotimetofindajob,getmyownapartment,andgetsettledbeforemynewclassesstarted,soitleftmewithlittlechoice.
I’mhopingthingswillbedifferentbetweenusnow,though.Corbinistwenty-five,andI’mtwenty-three,soifwecan’tgetalongbetterthanwedidaskids,we’vegotalotofgrowinguplefttodo.
IguessthatmostlydependsonCorbinandwhetherhe’schangedsincewelastlivedtogether.HehadanissuewithanyoneIdated,allofmyfriends,everychoiceImade—evenwhatcollegeIwantedtoattend.NotthatIeverpaidanyattentiontohisopinion,though.Thedistanceandtimeaparthasseemedtogethimoffmybackforthelastfewyears,butmovinginwithhimwillbetheultimatetestofourpatience.
Iwrapmypursearoundmyshoulder,butitgetscaughtonmysuitcasehandle,soIjustletitfalltothefloor.Ikeepmylefthandwrappedtightlyaroundthedoorknobandholdthedoorshutsotheguywon’tfallcompletelyintotheapartment.Itakemyfootandpressitagainsthisshoulder,pushinghimfromthecenterofthedoorway.
Hedoesn’tbudge.
“Corbin,he’stooheavy.I’mgonnahavetohangupsoIcanusebothhands.”
“No,don’thangup.Justputthephoneinyourpocket,butdon’thangup.”
IlookdownattheoversizedshirtandleggingsIhaveon.“Nopockets.You’regoinginthebra.”
CorbinmakesagaggingsoundasIpullthephonefrommyearandshoveitinsidemybra.Iremovethekeyfromthelockanddropittowardmypurse,butitmissesandfallstothefloor.IreachdowntograbthedrunkguysoIcanmovehimoutoftheway.
“Allright,buddy,”Isay,strugglingtopullhimawayfromthecenterofthedoorway.“Sorrytointerruptyournap,butIneedinsidethisapartment.”
Isomehowmanagetoprophimupagainstthedoorframetopreventhimfromfallingintotheapartment,andthenIpushthedooropenfartherandturntogetmythings.
Somethingwarmwrapsaroundmyankle.
Ifreeze.
Ilookdown.
“Letgoofme!”Iyell,kickingatthehandthat’sgrippingmyanklesotightlyI’mprettysureitmightbruise.Thedrunkguyislookingupatmenow,andhisgripsendsmefallingbackwardintotheapartmentwhenItrytopullawayfromhim.
“Ineedtogetinthere,”hemutters,justasmybuttmeetsthefloor.Hemakesanattempttopushtheapartmentdooropenwithhisotherhand,andthisimmediatelysendsmeintopanicmode.Ipullmylegstherestofthewayinside,andhishandcomeswithme.Iusemyfreelegtokickthedoorshut,slammingitdirectlyontohiswrist.
“Shit!”heyells.He’stryingtopullhishandbackintothehallwaywithhim,butmyfootisstillpressingagainstthedoor.Ireleaseenoughpressureforhimtohavehishandback,andthenIimmediatelykickthedoorallthewayshut.Ipullmyselfupandlockthedoor,thedeadbolt,andthechainlockasquicklyasIcan.
Assoonasmyheartratebeginstocalmdown,itstartstoscreamatme.
Myheartisactuallyscreamingatme.
Inadeepmalevoice.
Itsoundslikeit’syelling,“Tate!Tate!”
Corbin.
Iimmediatelylookdownatmychestandpullmyphoneoutofmybra,thenbringituptomyear.
“Tate!Answerme!”
Iwince,thenpullthephoneseveralinchesfrommyear.“I’mfine,”Isay,outofbreath.“I’minside.Ilockedthedoor.”
“JesusChrist!”hesays,relieved.“Youscaredmetodeath.Whatthehellhappened?”
“Hewastryingtogetinside.Ilockedthedoor,though.”Iflipontheliving-roomlightandtakenomorethanthreestepsinsidebeforeIcometoahalt
Goodgoing,Tate.
IslowlyturnbacktowardthedoorafterrealizingwhatI’vedone.
“Um.Corbin?”Ipause.“ImighthaveleftafewthingsoutsidethatIneed.Iwouldjustgrabthem,butthedrunkguythinksheneedstogetinsideyourapartmentforsomereason,sothere’snowayI’mopeningthatdooragain.Anysuggestions?”
He’ssilentforafewseconds.“Whatdidyouleaveinthehallway?”
Idon’twanttoanswerhim,butIdo.“Mysuitcase.”
“Christ,Tate,”hemutters.
“And…mypurse.”
“Whythehellisyourpurseoutside?”
“Imighthavealsoleftthekeytoyourapartmentonthehallwayfloor.”
Hedoesn’tevenrespondtothatone.Hejustgroans.“I’llcallMilesandseeifhe’shomeyet.Givemetwominutes.”
“Wait.Who’sMiles?”
“Helivesacrossthehall.Whateveryoudo,don’topenthedooragainuntilIcallyouback.”
Corbinhangsup,andIleanagainsthisfrontdoor.
I’velivedinSanFranciscoallofthirtyminutes,andI’malreadybeingapaininhisass.Figures.I’llbeluckyifheletsmestayhereuntilIfindajob.Ihopethatdoesn’ttakelong,consideringIappliedforthreeRNpositionsattheclosesthospital.Itmightmeanworkingnights,weekends,orboth,butI’lltakewhatIcangetifitpreventsmefromhavingtodipintosavingswhileI’mbackinschool.
Myphonerings.Islidemythumbacrossthescreenandanswerit.“Hey.”
“Tate?”
“Yep,”Ireply,wonderingwhyhealwaysdouble-checkstoseeifit’sme.Hecalledme,sowhoelsewouldbeansweringitwhosoundsexactlylikeme?
“IgotholdofMiles.”
“Good.Ishegonnahelpmegetmystuff?”
“Notexactly,”Corbinsays.“Ikindofneedyoutodomeahugefavor.”
Myheadfallsagainstthedooragain.Ihaveafeelingthenextfewmonthsaregoingtobefullofinconvenientfavors,sinceheknowshe’sdoingmeahugeonebylettingmestayhere.Dishes?Check.Corbin’slaundry?Check.Corbin’sgroceryshopping?Check.
“Whatdoyouneed?”Iaskhim.
“Mileskindofneedsyourhelp.”
“Theneighbor?”Ipauseassoonasitclicks,andIclosemyeyes.“Corbin,pleasedon’ttellmetheguyyoucalledtoprotectmefromthedrunkguyisthedrunkguy.”
Corbinsighs.“Ineedyoutounlockthedoorandlethimin.Lethimcrashonthecouch.I’llbetherefirstthinginthemorning.Whenhesobersup,he’llknowwhereheis,andhe’llgostraighthome.”
Ishakemyhead.“Whatkindofapartmentcomplexareyoulivingin?DoIneedtopreparetobegropedbydrunkpeopleeverytimeIcomehome?”
Longpause.“Hegropedyou?”
“‘Grope’mightbeabitstrong.Hedidgrabmyankle,though.”
Corbinletsoutasigh.“Justdothisforme,Tate.Callmebackwhenyou’vegothimandallyourstuffinside.”
“Fine.”Igroan,recognizingtheworryinhisvoice.
IhangupwithCorbinandopenthedoor.Thedrunkguyfallsontohisshoulder,andhiscellphoneslipsfromhishandandlandsonthefloornexttohishead.Ifliphimontohisbackandlookdownathim.Hecrackshiseyesopenandattemptstolookupatme,buthiseyelidsfallshutagain.
“You’renotCorbin,”hemutters.
“No.I’mnot.ButIamyournewneighbor,andfromthelooksofit,you’reabouttoowemeatleastfiftycupsofsugar.”
Ilifthimbyhisshouldersandtrytogethimtositup,buthedoesn’t.Idon’tthinkhecan,actually.Howdoesapersonevengetthisdrunk?
Igrabhishandsandpullhiminchbyinchintotheapartment,stoppingwhenhe’sjustfarenoughinsideformetobeabletoclosethedoor.Iretrieveallofmythingsfromoutsidetheapartment,thenshutandlockthefrontdoor.Igrabathrowpillowfromthecouch,prophisheadup,androllhimontohissideincasehepukesinhissleep.
Andthat’sallthehelphe’sgettingfromme.
Whenhe’scomfortablyasleepinthemiddleoftheliving-roomfloor,IleavehimtherewhileIlookaroundtheapartment.
ThelivingroomalonecouldfitthreeofthelivingroomsfromCorbin’slastapartment.Thediningareaisopentothelivingroom,butthekitchenisseparatedfromthelivingroombyahalf-wall.Thereareseveralmodernpaintingsthroughouttheroom,andthethick,plushsofasarealighttan,offsettingthevibrantpaintings.ThelasttimeIstayedwithhim,hehadafuton,abeanbagchair,andpostersofmodelsonthewalls.
Ithinkmybrothermightfinallybegrowingup.
“Veryimpressive,Corbin,”IsayoutloudasIwalkfromroomtoroomandfliponallthelights,inspectingwhathasjustbecomemytemporaryhome.Ikindofhatethatit’ssonice.It’llmakeithardertowanttofindmyownplaceonceIgetenoughmoneysavedup.
Iwalkintothekitchenandopentherefrigerator.There’sarowofcondimentsinthedoor,aboxofleftoverpizzaonthemiddleshelf,andacompletelyemptygallonofmilkstillsittingonthetopshelf.
Ofcoursehedoesn’thavegroceries.Ican’thaveexpectedhimtochangecompletely.
IgrababottledwaterandexitthekitchentogosearchfortheroomI’llbelivinginforthenextfewmonths.Therearetwobedrooms,soItaketheonethatisn’tCorbin’sandsetmysuitcaseontopofthebed.Ihaveaboutthreemoresuitcasesandatleastsixboxesdowninthecar,nottomentionallmyclothesonhangers,butI’mnotabouttoattemptthosetonight.Corbinsaidhe’dbebackinthemorning,soI’llleavethattohim.
Ichangeintoapairofsweatsandatanktop,thenbrushmyteethandgetreadyforbed.Normally,Iwouldbenervousaboutthefactthatthere’sastrangerinthesameapartmentI’min,butIhaveafeelingIdon’tneedtoworry.Corbinwouldneveraskmetohelpsomeonehefeltmightbeathreattomeinanyway.Whichconfusesme,becauseifthisiscommonbehaviorforMiles,I’msurprisedCorbinaskedmetobringhiminside.
Corbinhasnevertrustedguyswithme,andIblameBlakeforthat.HewasmyfirstseriousboyfriendwhenIwasfifteen,andhewasCorbin’sbestfriend.Blakewasseventeen,andIhadahugecrushonhimformonths.Ofcourse,myfriendsandIhadhugecrushesonmostofCorbin’sfriends,simplybecausetheywereolderthanwewere.
BlakewouldcomeovermostweekendstostaythenightwithCorbin,andwealwaysseemedtofindawaytospendtimetogetherwhenCorbinwasn’tpayingattention.Onethingledtoanother,andafterseveralweekendsofsneakingaround,Blaketoldmehewantedtomakeourrelationshipofficial.TheproblemBlakedidn’tforeseewashowCorbinwouldreactonceBlakebrokemyheart.
Andboy,didhebreakit.Asmuchasafifteen-year-oldheartcanbebrokenafterthespanofatwo-weeksecretrelationship.Turnedouthewasofficiallydatingquiteafewgirlsduringthetwoweekshewaswithme.OnceCorbinfoundout,theirfriendshipwasover,andallofCorbin’sfriendswerewarnednottocomenearme.IfounditalmostimpossibletodateinhighschooluntilafterCorbinfinallymovedaway.Eventhen,though,theguyshadheardhorrorstoriesandtendedtosteerclearofCorbin’slittlesister.
AsmuchasIhateditthen,Iwouldmorethanwelcomeitnow.I’vehadmyfairshareofrelationshipsgowrongsincehighschool.Ilivedwithmymostrecentboyfriendformorethanayearbeforewerealizedwewantedtwoseparatethingsoutoflife.Hewantedmehome.Iwantedacareer.
SonowI’mhere.Pursuingmymaster’sdegreeinnursinganddoingwhateverIcantoavoidrelationships.MaybelivingwithCorbinwon’tbesuchabadthingafterall.
Iheadbacktothelivingroomtoturnoutthelights,butwhenI’veroundedthecorner,Icometoanimmediatehalt
NotonlyisMilesupoffthefloor,buthe’sinthekitchen,withhisheadpressedagainsthisarmsandhisarmsfoldedontopofthekitchencounter.He’sseatedontheedgeofabarstool,andhelooksasifhe’sabouttofalloffitanysecond.Ican’ttellifhe’ssleepingagainorjustattemptingtorecover.
“Miles?”
Hedoesn’tmovewhenIcallhisname,soIwalktowardhimandgentlylaymyhandonhisshouldertoshakehimawake.Thesecondmyfingerssqueezehisshoulder,hegaspsandsitsupstraightasifIjustwokehimfromthemiddleofadream.
Oranightmare.
Immediately,heslidesoffthestoolandontoveryunstablelegs.Hebeginstosway,soIthrowhisarmovermyshoulderandtrytowalkhimoutofthekitchen.
“Let’sgotothecouch,buddy.”
Hedropshisforeheadtothesideofmyheadandstumblesalongwithme,makingitevenhardertoholdhimup.“Mynameisn’tBuddy,”heslurs.“It’sMiles.”
Wemakeittothefrontofthecouch,andIstarttopeelhimoffme.“Okay,Miles.Whoeveryouare.Justgotosleep.”
Hefallsontothecouch,buthedoesn’tletgoofmyshoulders.Ifallwithhimandimmediatelyattempttopullaway
“Rachel,don’t,”hebegs,grabbingmebythearm,tryingtopullmetothecouchwithhim.
“Mynameisn’tRachel,”Isay,freeingmyselffromhisirongrip.“It’sTate.”Idon’tknowwhyIclarifywhatmynameis,becauseit’snotlikelyhe’llrememberthisconversationtomorrow.Iwalktowherethethrowpillowisandpickitupoffthefloor.
Ipausebeforehandingitbacktohim,becausehe’sonhissidenow,andhisfaceispressedintothecouchcushion.He’sgrippingthecouchsotightlyhisknucklesarewhite.Atfirst,Ithinkhe’sabouttogetsick,butthenIrealizehowincrediblywrongIam.
He’snotsick.
He’scrying
Hard.
Sohardheisn’tevenmakingasound.
Idon’tevenknowtheguy,buttheobviousdevastationhe’sexperiencingisdifficulttowitness.Ilookdownthehallwayandbacktohim,wonderingifIshouldleavehimaloneinordertogivehimprivacy.ThelastthingIwanttodoisgettangledupinsomeone’sissues.I’vesuccessfullyavoidedmostformsofdramainmycircleoffriendsuptothispoint,andIsureashelldon’twanttostartnow.Myfirstinstinctistowalkaway,butforsomereason,Ifindmyselfoddlysympathetictowardhim.Hispainactuallyappearsgenuineandnotjusttheresultofanoverconsumptionofalcohol.
Ilowermyselftomykneesinfrontofhimandtouchhisshoulder.“Miles?”
Heinhalesahugebreath,slowlyliftinghisfacetolookatme.Hiseyesaremereslitsandbloodshotred.I’mnotsureifthat’saresultofthecryingorthealcohol.“I’msosorry,Rachel,”hesays,liftingahandouttowardme.Hewrapsitaroundthebackofmyneckandpullsmeforwardtowardhim,buryinghisfaceinthecrevicebetweenmyneckandshoulder.“I’msosorry”
IhavenoideawhoRachelisorwhathedidtoher,butifhe’shurtingthisbad,Ishuddertothinkwhatshe’sfeeling.I’mtemptedtofindhisphoneandsearchforhernameandcallhersoshecancomerectifythis.Instead,Igentlypushhimbackintothecouch.Ilayhispillowdownandurgehimontoit.“Gotosleep,Miles,”Isaygently.
Hiseyesaresofullofhurtwhenhedropstothepillow.“Youhatemesomuch,”hesaysashegrabsmyhand.Hiseyesfallshutagain,andhereleasesaheavysigh.
Istareathimsilently,allowinghimtokeepholdofmyhanduntilhe’squietandstillandtherearen’tanymoretears.Ipullmyhandawayfromhis,butIstaybyhissideforafewminuteslonger.
Eventhoughhe’sasleep,hesomehowstilllooksasifhe’sinaworldofpain.Hiseyebrowsarefurrowed,andhisbreathingissporadic,failingtofallintoapeacefulpattern.
Forthefirsttime,Inoticeafaint,jaggedscar,aboutfourincheslong,thatrunssmoothlyacrosstheentirerightsideofhisjaw.Itstopsjusttwoinchesshyofhislips.Ihavethestrangeurgetotouchitandrunmyfingerdownthelengthofit,butinstead,myhandreachesuptohishair.It’sshortonthesides,alittlelongeronthetop,andjusttheperfectblendofbrownandblond.Istrokehishair,comfortinghim,eventhoughhemaynotdeserveit
Thisguymaydeserveeverysinglebitoftheremorsehe’sfeelingforwhateverhedidtoRachel,butatleasthe’sfeelingit.Ihavetogivehimthatmuch.
WhateverhedidtoRachel,atleasthelovesherenoughtoregretit.chaptertwo
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
Iopenthedoortotheadministrationofficeandwalktherollsheettothesecretary’sdesk.BeforeIturnandheadbacktoclass,shestopsmewithaquestion.“You’reinMr.Clayton’sseniorEnglishclass,aren’tyou,Miles?”
“Yep,”IreplytoMrs.Borden.“Needmetotakesomethingtohim?”
Thephoneonherdeskrings,andshenods,pickingupthereceiver.Shecoversitwithherhand.“Waitaroundanotherminuteortwo,”shesays,noddingherheadinthedirectionoftheprincipal’soffice.“We’vegotanewstudentwhojustenrolled,andshealsohasMr.Claytonthisperiod.Ineedyoutoshowhertotheclassroom.”
Iagreeandplopdownintooneofthechairsnexttothedoor.IlookaroundtheadministrationofficeandrealizethisisthefirsttimeinthefouryearsI’vebeeninhighschoolthatI’veeversatinoneoftheseseats.WhichmeansI’vesuccessfullymadeitfouryearswithoutbeingsenttotheoffice.
Mymotherwouldhavebeenproudtoknowthat,althoughitleavesmekindofdisappointedinmyself.Detentionissomethingeverymaleinhighschoolshouldaccomplishatleastonce.Ihavetherestofmysenioryeartoachieveit,though,sothere’sthattolookforwardto.
Iretrievemyphonefrommypocket,secretlyhopingMrs.Bordenseesmewithitanddecidestoslapmewithadetentionslip.WhenIlookupather,she’sstillonthephone,butshemakeseyecontactwithme.Shesimplysmilesandgoesabouthersecretarialduties.
IshakemyheadindisappointmentandopenupatexttoIan.Itdoesn’ttakemuchtoexcitepeoplearoundhere.Nothingneweverhappens.
Me:Newgirlenrolledtoday.Senior.
Ian:Isshehot?
Me:Haven’tseenheryet.Abouttowalkhertoclass.
Ian:Takeapictureifshe’shot.
Me:Willdo.BTW,howmanytimeshaveyouhaddetentionthisyear?
Ian:Twice.Why?What’dyoudo?
Twice?Yeah,Ineedtorebelitupalittlebeforegraduation.Ishoulddefinitelyturninsomehomeworklatethisyear.
I’mpathetic.
Thedoortotheprincipal’sofficeopens,soIclosemyphone.Islideitintomypocketandlookup.
Ineverwanttolookdownagain.
“MilesisgoingtoshowyouthewaytoMr.Clayton’sclass,Rachel.”Mrs.BordenpointsRachelinmydirection,andshebeginstowalktowardme.
Iinstantlybecomeawareofmylegsandtheirinabilitytostand.
Mymouthforgetshowtospeak.
Myarmsforgethowtoreachouttointroducethepersonthey’reattachedto.
Myheartforgetstowaitandgettoknowagirlbeforeitstartstoclawitswayoutofmychesttogettoher.
Rachel.
Rachel.
Rachel,Rachel,Rachel.
She’slikepoetry.
Likeproseandlovelettersandlyrics,cascadingdown
the
center
of
a
page.
Rachel,Rachel,Rachel.
Isayhernameoverandoverinmyhead,becauseI’mpositiveit’sthenameofthenextgirlI’llfallinlovewith.
I’msuddenlystanding.Walkingtowardher.Imightbesmiling,pretendingI’mnotaffectedbythosegreeneyesthatIhopewillonedaybesmilingjustforme.Orthatred-as-my-hearthairthatdoesn’tlooklikeit’sbeentamperedwithsinceGodcreateditspecificallywithherinmind.
I’mtalkingtoher.
ItellhermynameisMiles.
ItellhershecanfollowmeandI’llshowherthewaytoMr.Clayton’sclass.
I’mstaringatherbecauseshehasn’tspokenyet,buthernodisthenicestthingagirlhaseversaidtome.
Iaskherwhereshe’sfrom,andshetellsmeArizona.“Phoenix,”shespecifies.
Idon’taskherwhatbroughthertoCalifornia,butIdotellhermyfatherdoesbusinessinPhoenixalotbecauseheownsafewbuildingsthere.
Shesmiles.
ItellherI’veneverbeentherebutI’dliketogooneday.
Shesmilesagain.
Ithinkshesaysit’sanicetown,butit’shardtounderstandherwordswhenallIhearinmyheadishername.
Rachel.
I’mgonnafallinlovewithyou,Rachel.
Hersmilemakesmewanttokeeptalking,soIaskheranotherquestionaswepassMr.Clayton’sroom.
Wekeepwalking.
Shekeepstalking,becauseIkeepaskingherquestions.
Shenodssome.
Sheanswerssome.
Shesingssome.
Oritsoundsthatway.
Wegettotheendofthehallway,rightwhenshesayssomethingabouthowshehopesshelikesthisschoolbecauseshewasn’treadytomoveawayfromPhoenix.
Shedoesn’tlookhappyaboutthemove.
Shedoesn’tknowhowhappyIamaboutthemove.
“Where’sMr.Clayton’sclassroom?”sheasks.
Istareatthemouththatjustdeliveredthatquestion.Herlipsaren’tsymmetrical.Hertoplipisslightlythinnerthanherbottomlip,butyoucan’ttelluntilshetalks.Whenwordscomeoutofhermouth,itmakesmewonderwhywordsaresomuchbettercomingfromhermouththananyothermouth.
Andhereyes.There’snowayhereyesaren’tseeingaprettier,morepeacefulworldthanalltheothereyes.
Istareatherforafewmoreseconds;thenIpointbehindmeandtellherwepassedMr.Clayton’sclassroom.
Hercheeksgrowashadepinker,likemyconfessionaffectedherinthesamewayshe’saffectingme.
Ismileagain.
InodmyheadtowardMr.Clayton’sclass.
Wewalkinthatdirection.
Rachel.
You’regonnafallinlovewithme,Rachel.
IopenthedoorforherandletMr.ClaytonknowthatRachelisnewhere.Ialsowanttoadd,forthesakeofalltheotherguysintheclassroom,thatRachelisnottheirs.
She’smine.
ButIdon’tsayanything.
Idon’thaveto,becausetheonlyonewhoneedstobeawarethatIwantRachelisRachel
Shelooksatmeandsmilesagain,takingtheonlyemptyseat,allthewayacrosstheroom.
Hereyestellmeshealreadyknowsshe’smine.
It’sjustamatteroftime.
IwanttotextIanandtellhersheisn’thot.Iwanttotellhimshe’svolcanic,buthewouldlaughatthat.
Instead,IdiscreetlytakeapictureofherfromwhereI’mseated.
IsendthepictureinamessagetoIanthatsays,“She’sgonnahaveallmybabies.”
Mr.Claytonbeginsclass.
MilesArcherbecomesobsessed.
???
ImetRachelonMonday.
It’sFriday.
I’vesaidnothingtohersincethedaywemet.Idon’tknowwhy.Wehavethreeclassestogether.EverytimeIseeher,shesmilesatmelikeshewantsmetotalktoher.EverytimeIworkupthecourage,Italkmyselfdown.
Iusedtobeconfident.
ThenRachelhappened.
Igavemyselfuntiltoday.IfIdidn’tworkupthecouragebytoday,I’dbegivingupmyonlyshotwithher.GirlslikeRachelaren’tavailableforlong.
Ifshe’sevenavailable.
Idon’tknowherstoryorifshe’swrappedupinaguybackinPhoenix,butthere’sonlyonewaytofindout.
I’mstandingnexttoherlocker,waitingforher.Sheexitstheclassroomandsmilesatme.Isay“Hi”whenshewalksuptoherlocker.Inoticethatsamesubtlechangeinherskincolor.Ilikethat.
Iaskhowherfirstweekwas.Shetellsmeitwasfine.Iaskherifshe’smadeanyfriends,andsheshrugsasshesays,“Afew.”
Ismellher,subtly.
Shenoticesanyway.
Itellhershesmellsgood.
Shesays,“Thankyou.”
Ipushthroughthesoundofmyheartpoundinginmyears.Ipushpastthesheenofmoisturedevelopingonmypalms.Idrownouthername,whichIkeepwantingtorepeatoutloud,overandover.IpushitalldownandholdherstarewhileIaskherifshe’dliketodosomethinglater.
Ikeepitallpushedawayandmakeroomforherresponse,becauseit’stheonlythingIwant.
Iwantthatnod,actually.Theonethatdoesn’trequirewords?Justasmile?
Idon’tgethernod.
Shehasplanstonight.
Itallcomesbacktenfold,spillingoverlikeafloodandI’mthedam.Thepounding,thesweatypalms,hername,anewfoundinsecurityIneverknewexisted,buryingitselfinmychest.Allofittakesoverandfeelslikeit’sbuildingawallaroundher.
“I’mnotbusytomorrow,though,”shesays,obliteratingthewallwithherwords.
Imakeroomforthosewords.Lotsofroom.Ilettheminvademe.Isoakthosewordsuplikeasponge.Ipluckthemoutoftheairandswallowthem.
“Tomorrowworksforme,”Isay.Ipullmyphoneoutofmypocket,notevenbotheringtohidemysmile.“What’syournumber?I’llcallyou.”
Shetellsmehernumber.
She’sexcited.
She’sexcited.
Isavehercontactinmyphone,knowingit’llbethereforalong,longtime.
AndI’mgonnauseit.
Alot.chapterthree
TATE
Normally,ifIweretowakeup,openmyeyes,andseeanangrymanstaringmedownfromabedroomdoorway,Imightscream.Imightthrowthings.Imightruntothebathroomandlockmyselfinside
Idon’tdoanyofthesethings,though
Istareback,becauseI’mconfusedabouthowthisisthesameguywhowaspassedoutdrunkinthehallway.Howisthisthesameguywhocriedhimselftosleeplastnight?
Thisguyisintimidating.Thisguyisangry.ThisguyiswatchingmelikeIshouldbegivinghimanapologyorexplainingmyself.
Itisthesameguy,though,becausehe’swearingthesamepairofjeansandthesameblackT-shirthefellasleepinlastnight.Theonlydifferenceinhisappearancebetweenlastnightandthismorningisthathe’snowabletostandupwithoutassistance.
“Whathappenedtomyhand,Tate?”
Heknowsmyname.DoesheknowitbecauseCorbintoldhimIwasmovinginorbecauseheactuallyremembersmytellinghimlastnight?I’mhopingCorbintoldhim,becauseIdon’treallywanthimtorememberlastnight.Isuddenlyfeelembarrassedthathemightrecallmyconsolinghimwhilehecriedhimselftosleep.
Heapparentlydoesn’thaveacluewhathappenedtohishand,though,soIhopethatmeanshehasnorecollectionofanythingbeyondthat.
He’sleaningagainstmybedroomdoorwithhisarmsfoldedacrosshischest.Helooksdefensive,likeI’mtheoneresponsibleforhisbadnight.Irollover,stillnotquitefinishedwithsleeping,eventhoughhethinksIowehimsomesortofexplanation.Ipullthecoversovermyhead.
“Lockthefrontdooronyourwayout,”Isay,hopinghe’lltakethehintthatheismorethanwelcometogobacktohisplacenow.
“Where’smyphone?”
Isqueezemyeyesshutandtrytodrownoutthesmoothsoundofhisvoiceasitslidesintomyearsandmakesitswaythrougheverynerveinmybody,warmingmeinplacesthisflimsyblanketfailedtodoallnight.
Iremindmyselfthatthepersonthatsultryvoicebelongstoisnowstandinginthedoorway,rudelydemandingthingswithoutevenacknowledgingthefactthatIhelpedhimlastnight.I’dliketoknowwheremyThankyouis.OrmyHey,I’mMiles.Nicetomeetyou.
Igetnoneofthatfromthisguy.He’stooworriedabouthishand.Andhisphone,apparently.Tooworriedabouthimselftobeconcernedabouthowmanypeoplehiscarelessnessmighthaveinconveniencedlastnight.Ifthisguyandhisattitudearegoingtobemyneighborsforthenextfewmonths,I’dbettersethimstraightnow.
Itossthecoversoffandstandup,thenwalktothedoorandmeethisgaze.“Domeafavorandtakeastepback.”
Surprisingly,hedoes.IkeepmyeyeslockedwithhisuntilthebedroomdoorslamsinhisfaceandI’mlookingatthebackofthedoor.Ismileandwalkbacktomybed.Iliedownandpullthecoversovermyhead.
Iwin.
HaveImentionedI’mnotmuchofamorningperson?
Thedooropensagain.
Fliesopen.
“Whatthehelliswrongwithyou?”heyells.
Igroan,thensituponthebedandlookathim.He’sstandinginthedoorwayonceagain,stilllookingatmelikeIowehimsomething.
“You!”Iyellback.
Helooksgenuinelyshockedatmyharshresponse,whichkindofmakesmefeelbad.Buthe’stheonebeingthejerk!
Ithink.
Hestartedit.
Ithink.
Heeyesmehardforafewseconds,thentiltshisheadslightlyforwardandarchesaneyebrow.
“Didwe…”Hemotionshisfingerbackandforthbetweenus.“Didwehookuplastnight?Isthatwhyyou’repissed?”
Ilaughwhenmyinitialthoughtsareconfirmed.
He’sbeingthejerk.
Andthisisgreat.I’mneighborswithaguywhogetsshit-facedonweeknightsandobviouslybringshomesomanygirlsintheprocessthathecan’tevenrememberwhichoneshemessedaroundwith
IopenmymouthtorespondbutamcutoffbythesoundoftheapartmentdoorclosingandCorbin’svoiceyellingout.
“Tate?”
Iimmediatelyjumpupandrushtothedoor,butMilesisstillblockingthedoorway,glaringatme,expectingaresponsetohisquestion.Ilookhimstraightintheeyestogivehimananswer,buthiseyescatchmeoffguardforashortmoment.
TheyaretheclearestblueeyesI’veeverseen.Notatalltheheavy-lidded,bloodshoteyesfromlastnight.Hiseyesaresolightbluethey’realmostcolorless.Icontinuetostareatthem,halfexpectingtoseewavesifIlookcloselyenough.I’dsaytheywereasclearblueasthewatersoftheCaribbean,butI’veneveractuallybeentotheCaribbean,soIwouldn’tknow.
Heblinks,anditimmediatelypullsmeawayfromtheCaribbeanandbacktoSanFrancisco.Backtothisbedroom.BacktothelastquestionheaskedbeforeCorbinwalkedthroughthefrontdoor.
“Notsureifyoucancallwhatwedidhookingup,”Iwhisper.
Istareathim,waitingforhimtomoveoutofmyway.
Hestandstaller,puttingupaninvisiblewallofarmorwithhispostureandhisrigidbodylanguage.
Apparently,hedoesn’tliketoenvisionthetwoofusmakingout,basedontheunyieldinglookhe’sgivingme.Italmostseemslikehe’slookingatmeindisgust,whichmakesmedislikehimthatmuchmore.
Idon’tbackdown,andneitherofusbreakseyecontactwhenhestepsoutofmywayandallowsmetopasshim.CorbinisroundingthehallwaywhenIexitmyroom.HeglancesbackandforthbetweenmeandMiles,soIquicklyshoothimalooktolethimknowthat’snotevenremotelyapossibility.
“Hey,Sis,”hesays,pullingmeinforahug.
Ihaven’tseenhiminalmostsixmonths.Sometimesit’seasytoforgethowmuchyoumisspeopleuntilyouseethemagain.That’snotthecasewithCorbin.Ialwaysmisshim.Asmuchashisprotectivenesscangetoldattimes,it’salsoatestamenttohowcloseweare.
Corbinreleasesmeandpullsatalockofmyhair.“It’slonger,”hesays.“Ilikeit.”
Thismaybethelongestwe’vegonewithoutseeingeachother.Ireachupandflickthehairhangingacrosshisforehead.“Soisyours,”Isay.“AndIdon’tlikeit.”
IsmiletolethimknowI’mkidding.Iactuallyliketheshaggierlookonhim.Peoplehavealwayssaidwelookalotalike,butIdon’tseeit.Hisskinisalotdarkerthanmine,whichI’vealwaysenvied.Ourhairisthesamerichhueofbrown,butourfacialfeaturesarenothingalike,specificallyoureyes.Momusedtotellusthatifweputoureyestogether,theywouldlookjustlikeatree.Hiswereasgreenastheleaves,andminewereasbrownasthetrunk.
Ialwaysenviedthathegottobetheleavesofthetree,becausegreenwasmyfavoritecolorgrowingup.
CorbinacknowledgesMileswithanodofhishead.“Hey,man.Roughnight?”Heasksthequestionwithalaugh,asheknowsexactlywhatkindofnightMileshadlastnight.
Mileswalkspastbothofus.“Idon’tknow,”hesaysinresponse.“Idon’trememberit.”Hewalksintothekitchenandopensacabinet,retrievingacuplikehe’scomfortableenoughheretodoso.
Idon’tlikethat.
Idon’tlikecomfortableMiles.
ComfortableMilesopensanothercabinetandtakesoutabottleofaspirin,fillshiscupwithwater,andpopstwooftheaspirinintohismouth.
“Didyougetallyourstuffbroughtup?”Corbinasksme.
“Nope,”Isay,glancingatMileswhenIrespond.“Iwaskindofpreoccupiedwithyourneighbormostofthenight.”
Milesnervouslyclearshisthroatashewashestheglassandplacesitbackinthecabinet.Hisdiscomfortwithhislapseinmemorymakesmelaugh.Ilikethathehasnoideawhathappenedlastnight.Ievenkindoflikethatthethoughtofbeingwithmeseemstounnervehim.Imightkeepthisfa?adegoingforawhileformyownsickenjoyment.
CorbinlooksatmeasifheknowswhatI’mtryingtopull.Milesstepsoutofthekitchenandglancesmyway,thenlooksbacktoCorbin.
“Iwouldhavegonebacktomyplacebynow,butIcan’tfindmykeys.Youhavemyspareset?”
Corbinnodsandwalkstoadrawerinthekitchen.Heopensit,grabsakey,andtossesittoMiles,whocatchesitinmidair.“CanyoucomebackinanhourandhelpmeunloadTate’scar?Iwanttoshowerfirst.”
Milesnods,buthiseyescutbrieflytomineasCorbinstartswalkingtohisbedroom.
“We’llcatchupwhenit’snottoomorning,”Corbintellsme.
Itmayhavebeensevenyearssincewe’velivedtogether,butheapparentlyremembersI’mnotmuchofatalkerinthemorning.ToobadMilesdoesn’tknowthisaboutme.
AfterCorbindisappearsintohisbedroom,IturnandfaceMilesagain.He’salreadylookingatmeexpectantly,likehe’sstillwaitingformetoanswerwhateverquestionsheaskedmeearlier.Ijustwanthimtoleave,soIanswerthemallatonce.
“YouwerepassedoutinthehallwaylastnightwhenIgothere.Ididn’tknowwhoyouwere,sowhenyoutriedtogetinsidetheapartment,Imighthaveslammedthedooronyourhand.It’snotbroken.Icheckeditout,andit’sbruisedatbest.Justputsomeiceonitandwrapitforafewhours.Andno,wedidn’thookup.Ihelpedyouintotheapartment,andthenIwenttobed.Yourphoneisonthefloorbythefrontdoorwhereyoudroppeditlastnightbecauseyouweretooshit-facedtowalk.”
Iturntoheadtomyroom,justwantingtogetawayfromtheintensityinhiseyes.
IspinaroundwhenIreachmybedroomdoor.“WhenyoucomebackinanhourandI’vehadachancetowakeup,wecantrythisagain.”
Hisjawisfirm.“Trywhatagain?”heasks.
“Gettingoffontherightfoot.”
Iclosemybedroomdoor,puttingupabarrierbetweenmeandthatvoice.
Thatstare.
???
“Howmanyboxesdoyouhave?”Corbinasks.He’sslippingonhisshoesbythedoor.Igrabmykeysoffthebar.
“Six,plusthreesuitcasesandallmyclothesonhangers.”
Corbinwalkstothedoordirectlyacrossthehallandbangsonit,thenturnsandheadstowardtheelevators.Hepushesthedownbutton.“DidyoutellMomyoumadeit?”
“Yeah,Itextedherlastnight.”
Ihearhisapartmentdooropenjustastheelevatorarrives,butIdon’tturntowatchhimwalkoutofit.Istepin,andCorbinholdstheelevatorforMiles.
Assoonashecomesintoview,Ilosethewar.ThewarIdidn’tevenknowIwasfighting.Itdoesn’thappenoften,butwhenIdofindaguyattractive,it’sbetterwhenithappenswithapersonIwantittohappenwith.
MilesisnotthepersonIwanttobefeelingthisfor.Idon’twanttobeattractedtoaguywhodrinkshimselfintooblivion,criesoverothergirls,andcan’tevenrememberifhescrewedyouthenightbefore.Butit’shardnottonoticehispresencewhenhispresencebecomeseverything.
“Shouldjustbetwotrips,”CorbinsaystoMilesashepressesthebuttonforthegroundfloor.
Milesisstaringatme,andIcan’tquitejudgehisdemeanor,becausehestilllookspissed.Istareback,becausenomatterhowgood-lookinghemaybewiththatattitude,I’mstillwaitingforthethankyouInevergot.
“Hi,”Milesfinallysays.Hestepsforwardandcompletelyignoresunspokenelevatoretiquettebysteppingtoocloseandholdingouthishand.“MilesArcher.Iliveacrossthehallfromyou.”
AndI’mconfused.
“Ithinkwe’veestablishedthat,”Isay,lookingdownathisoutstretchedhand.
“Startingover,”hesays,archingabrow.“Ontherightfoot?”
Ah.Yes.Ididtellhimthat.
Itakehishandandshakeit.“TateCollins.I’mCorbin’ssister.”
Thewayhestepsbackandkeepshiseyeslockedwithminemakesmealittleuncomfortable,sinceCorbinisstandingonlyafootaway.Corbindoesn’tseemtocare,though.He’signoringbothofus,preoccupiedwithhisphone.
Milesfinallybreakshisstareandpullshisphoneoutofhispocket.Itaketheopportunitytostudyhimwhilehisattentionisoffofme.
Icometotheconclusionthathisappearanceiscompletelycontradictory.It’sasiftwodifferentcreatorswereatwarwhenhewasenvisioned.Thestrengthinhisbonestructurecontrastswiththesoft,invitingappealofhislips.Theyseemharmlessandwelcomingcomparedwiththeharshnessinhisfeaturesandthejaggedscarthatrunsthelengthoftherightsideofhisjaw.
Hishaircan’tdecideifitwantstobebrownorblondorwavyorstraight.Hispersonalityflipsbetweeninvitingandcallouslyindifferent,muddlingmyabilitytodiscernhotfromcold.HiscasualpostureisatwarwiththefiercenessI’veseeninhiseyes.Hiscomposurethismorningcontradictshisinebriatedstatefromlastnight.Hiseyescan’tdecideiftheywanttolookathisphoneoratme,becausetheywaverbackandforthseveraltimesbeforetheelevatordoorsopen.
Istopstaringandstepofftheelevatorfirst.Capisseatedinhischair,eversovigilant.Heglancesatthethreeofusexitingtheelevatorandpushesuponthearmsofhischair,comingtoaslow,shakystand.CorbinandMilesbothnodathimandcontinuewalking.
“Howwasyourfirstnight,Tate?”heaskswithasmile,stoppingmemidstride.Thefactthathealreadyknowsmynamedoesn’tsurpriseme,sinceheknewwhatfloorIwasgoingtolastnight.
IlookatthebackofMiles’sheadastheycontinuewithoutme.“Kindofeventful,actually.Ithinkmybrothermighthavemadeapoorchoiceinthecompanyhekeeps.”
IlookatCap,andhe’sstaringatMilesnow,too.Hiswrinkle–linedlipspurseintoathinline,andhegivesaslightshakeofhishead.“Ah,thatboyprobablycan’thelpitnone,”hesays,dismissingmycomment.
I’mnotsureifhe’sreferringtoCorbinorMileswhenhesays“thatboy,”butIdon’task.
Capturnsawayfrommeandbeginsshufflinginthedirectionofthelobbyrestrooms.“IthinkIjustpissedonmyself,”hemutters.
Iwatchhimdisappearthroughtherestroomdoor,wonderingatwhatpointinaperson’slifehebecomesoldenoughtolosehisfilter.AlthoughCapdoesn’tseemlikethetypeofmanwhoeverevenhadafilter.Ikindoflikethatabouthim
“Tate,let’sgo!”Corbinyellsfromthefarendofthelobby.Icatchupwiththemtoshowthemthewaytomycar.
Ittakesthreetripstogetallmythingsup,nottwo.
ThreeentiretripswhereMilesdoesn’tspeakanotherwordtome.chapterfour
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
Dad:“Whereareyou?”
Me:“Ian’shouse.”
Dad:“Weneedtotalk.”
Me:“Canitwaituntiltomorrow?I’llbehomelate.”
Dad:“No.Ineedyouhomenow.I’vebeenwaitingforyousinceschoolletout.”
Me:“Fine.Onmyway.”
Thatwastheconversationthatledtothismoment.Me,sittinginfrontofmydadonthecouch.Mydad,tellingmesomethingIdon’tcaretohear.
“Iwouldhavetoldyousooner,Miles.Ijust—”
“Feltguilty?”Iinterrupt.“Likeyou’redoingsomethingwrong?”
Hiseyesmeetmine,andIbegintofeelbadforsayingwhatIsaid,butIpushthefeelingdownandkeepgoing.
“She’sbeendeadlessthanayear.”
Assoonasthewordsleavemymouth,Iwanttothrowup.
Hedoesn’tlikebeingjudged,especiallybyme.He’susedtomysupportinghisdecisions.Hell,I’musedtosupportinghisdecisions.Untilnow,Ialwaysthoughthemadegoodones.
“Look,Iknowthisishardforyoutoaccept,butIneedyoursupport.Youhavenoideahowhardit’sbeenformetomoveonsinceshedied.”
“Hard?”I’mstanding.I’mraisingmyvoice.I’mactinglikeIgiveashitforsomereason,whenIreallydon’t.Icouldcarelessthathe’salreadydatingagain.Hecanseewhoeverhewants.Hecanscrewwhoeverhewants.
IthinktheonlyreasonI’mreactingthiswayisbecauseshecan’t.It’shardtodefendyourmarriagewhenyou’redead.That’swhyI’mdoingitforher.
“It’sobviouslynotveryhardforyouatall,Dad.”
Iwalktotheoppositeendofthelivingroom.
Iwalkback.
Thehouseistoodamnsmalltofitallofmyfrustrationanddisappointment.
Ilookathimagain,recognizingthatit’snotsomuchthefactthathe’sseeingsomeonealready.It’sthelookhegetsinhiseyeswhenhetalksaboutherthatIhate.Ineversawhimlookatmymotherthatway,sowhoeversheis,Iknowit’snotacasualthing.She’sabouttoseepintoourlives,intertwiningaroundandthroughandbetweenmyrelationshipwithmyfatherlikeshe’spoisonivy.It’llnolongerbejustmyfatherandme.It’llbeme,myfather,andLisa.Itdoesn’tfeelright,consideringmymother’spresenceisstilleverywhereinthishouse.
He’ssittingwithhishandsfoldedinfrontofhim,claspedtogether.He’slookingdownatthefloor.
“Idon’tknowifthiswillgoanywhere,butIwanttogiveitashot.Lisamakesmehappy.Sometimesmovingonis…theonlywaytomoveon.”
Iopenmymouthtorespondtohim,butmywordsarecutoffbythedoorbell.Helooksupatme,hesitantlycomingtoastand.Heseemssmaller.Lessheroic.
“I’mnotaskingyoutolikeher.I’mnotaskingyoutospendtimewithher.Ijustwantyoutobenicetoher.”Hiseyesarepleadingwithme,anditmakesmefeelguiltyforbeingsoresistant.
Inod.“Iwill,Dad.YouknowIwill.”
Hehugsme,anditfeelsgoodandbad.Itdoesn’tfeellikeIjusthuggedthemanI’vehadonapedestalforseventeenyears.ItfeelsasthoughIjusthuggedmypeer.
Heasksmetogetthedoorwhileheheadsbacktothekitchentofinishdinner,soIdo.IclosemyeyesandletmymomknowthatI’mgoingtobenicetoLisa,butshe’llalwaysjustbeLisatome,nomatterwhathappensbetweenherandDad.Iopenthedoor.
“Miles?”
Ilookatherface,andit’scompletelyoppositefrommymother’sface.Thismakesmefeelgood.She’salotshorterthanmymother.She’snotasprettyasmymother,either.There’snothingaboutherthatcanbecomparedtomymother,soIdon’teventry.Iacceptherforwhatsheis:ourdinnerguest.
Inodandopenthedoorwidertoletherin.“YoumustbeLisa.Goodtomeetyou.”Ipointbehindme.“Myfatherisinthekitchen.”
Lisaleansforwardandgivesmeahug—onethatIsuccessfullymakeawkwardafterittakesmeseveralsecondstohugherback.
Myeyesmeettheeyesofthegirlstandingbehindher.
Theeyesofthegirlstandingbehindhermeetmine.
You’re
gonna
fall
in
love
with
me,
Rachel
“Miles?”shesaysinabrokenwhisper
Rachelsoundsalittlebitlikehermother,butsadder.
Lisalooksbackandforthbetweenus.“Youknoweachother?”
Racheldoesn’tnod.
NeitherdoI.
Ourdisappointmentmeltstothefloorandcombinesinapuddleofprematuretearsatourfeet.
“He,um,…he…”
Rachelisstuttering,soIhelpherfinishherwords.“IgotoschoolwithRachel,”Iblurtout.Iregretsayingthat,becausewhatIreallywanttosayis,RachelisthenextgirlI’mgonnafallinlovewith.
Ican’tsaythat,though,becauseit’sobviouswhat’sboundtohappen.Rachelisn’tthenextgirlI’llfallinlovewith,becauseRachelisthegirlwhowillmorethanlikelybecomemynewstepsister.
Forthesecondtimetonight,Ifeelsick.
Lisasmilesandclaspsherhandstogether.“That’sgreat,”shesays.“I’msorelieved.”
Myfatherwalksintotheroom.HehugsLisa.HesayshitoRachelandtellsherit’sgoodtoseeheragain.
MyfatheralreadyknowsRachel.
Rachelalreadyknowsmyfather.
MyfatherisLisa’snewboyfriend.
MyfathervisitsPhoenixalot.
MyfatherhasbeenvisitingPhoenixalotsincebeforemymotherdied.
Myfatherisabastard.
“RachelandMilesalreadyknoweachother,”Lisasaystomyfather.
Hesmiles,andrelieffloodshisface.“Good.Good,”hesays,repeatingthewordtwiceasifitcouldmakethingsbetter.
No.
Bad.Bad.
“That’llmaketonightalotlessawkward,”hesayswithalaugh.
IlookbackatRachel.
Rachellooksatme.
Ican’tfallinlovewithyou,Rachel.
Hereyesaresad.
Mythoughtsaresadder.
Andyoucan’tfallinlovewithme.
Sheslowlywalksinside,avoidingmygazeasshewatchesherfeetwitheachstep.They’rethesaddeststepsI’veeverseentaken.
Iclosethedoor.
It’sthesaddestdoorI’veeverhadtoclose.chapterfive
TATE
“AreyouoffforThanksgiving?”mymotherasks.
Iswitchmycelltomyotherearandpulltheapartmentkeyoutofmypurse.“Yeah,butnotChristmas.Ionlyworkweekendsfornow.”
“Good.TellCorbinwe’renotdeadyetifheevergetstheurgetocallus.”
Ilaugh.“I’lltellhim.Loveyou.”
Ihangupandputmycellphoneintothepocketofmyscrubtop.It’sonlyapart-timejob,butitgetsmyfootinthedoor.TonightwasmylastnightoftrainingbeforeIstartweekendrotationstomorrownight.
Ilikethejobsofar,andIwashonestlyshockedtolanditaftermyfirstinterview.Itworksoutwithmyschoolschedule,too.I’minschooleveryweekday,doingeitherclinicalorclassroomhours,thenIworksecondshiftontheweekendsoveratthehospital.It’sbeenaseamlesstransitionuptothispoint.
IalsolikeSanFrancisco.Iknowit’sonlybeentwoweeks,butIcouldseemyselfstayinghereaftergraduationnextspringratherthangoingbacktoSanDiego.
CorbinandIhaveevenbeengettingalong,althoughhe’sgonemorethanhe’shome,soI’msurethathaseverythingtodowithit.
Ismile,finallyfeelinglikeI’vefoundmyplace,andIopenthedoortotheapartment.Mysmilefadesassoonasitmeetstheeyesofthreeotherguys—onlytwoofwhomIrecognize.Milesisstandinginthekitchen,andthemarriedassholefromtheelevatorissittingonthecouch.
WhythehellisMileshere?
Whythehellareanyofthemhere?
IglareatMilesasIkickoffmyshoesanddropmypurseonthecounter.Corbinisn’tduebackfortwomoredays,andIwaslookingforwardtothepeaceandquiettonightsoIcouldgetsomestudyingdone.
“It’sThursday,”Milessayswhenheseesthescowlonmyface,likethedayoftheweekissupposedtobesomesortofexplanation.He’swatchingmefromhispositioninthekitchen.HecanseeI’mnothappy.
“Soitis,”Ireply.“AndtomorrowisFriday.”IturntotheothertwoguyssittingonCorbin’scouch.“Whyareyouallinmyapartment?”
Theblond,lankyguyimmediatelystandsupandwalksovertome.Heextendshishand.“Tate?”heasks.“I’mIan.IgrewupwithMiles.I’mafriendofyourbrother’s.”Hepointstotheelevatorguy,whoisstillseatedonthecouch.“ThisisDillon.”
Dillongivesmeanodbutdoesn’tbotherspeaking.Hedoesn’thaveto.Hisshit-eatinggrinsaysenoughaboutwhathe’sthinkingrightnow.
Mileswalksbackintothelivingroomandpointstothetelevision.“ThisiskindofathingwedosomeThursdaysifeitherofusishome.Gamenight.”
Idon’tcareifit’stheirthing.Ihavehomework.
“Corbinisn’tevenhometonight.Can’tyoudothisatyourapartment?Ineedtostudy.”
MileshandsDillonabeerandthenlooksbackatme.“Idon’thavecable.”Ofcourseyoudon’t.“AndDillon’swifedoesn’tletususehisplace.”Ofcourseshedoesn’t.
Irollmyeyesandwalktomybedroom,slammingthedoorunintentionally.
Ichangeoutofmyscrubsandpullonapairofjeans.IgrabtheshirtIsleptinlastnightandjustgetitovermyheadwhensomeoneknocksonthedoor.IswingitopenalmostasdramaticallyasIslammeditearlier.
He’ssotall.
Ididn’trealizehowtallhewas,butnowthathe’sstandinginmydoorway—fillingit—heseemsreallytall.Ifheweretowraphisarmsaroundmerightnow,myearwouldpressagainsthisheart.Thenhischeekwouldrestcomfortablyontopofmyhead.
Ifheweretokissme,I’dhavetotiltmyfaceuptomeethis,butitwouldbenice,becausehewouldprobablywraphisarmsaroundmylowerbackandpullmetohimsothatourmouthswouldcometogetherliketwopiecesofapuzzle.Onlytheywouldn’tfitverywell,becausetheyaremostdefinitelynottwopiecesfromthesamepuzzle.
Somethingstrangeisgoingoninmychest.Aflutter,flutterkindofthing.Ihateit,becauseIknowwhatitmeans.ItmeansmybodyisreallystartingtolikeMiles.
Ijusthopemybrainnevercatchesup.
“Ifyouneedquiet,youcangotomyplace,”hesays.
Icringeatthewayhisofferworksknotsintomystomach.Ishouldn’tbeexcitedaboutthepossibilityofbeinginsidehisapartment,butIam.
“We’llprobablybehereanothertwohours,”headds.
There’sregretinhisvoicesomewhere.Itwouldmorethanlikelytakeasearchpartytolocateit,butit’sburiedtheresomewhere,beneathallthesultriness.
Iexpelaquick,relinquishingbreath.I’mbeingabitch.Thisisn’tevenmyapartment.Thisistheirthingthattheyobviouslydoonaregularbasis,andwhoamItothinkIcanjustmoveinandputastoptoit?
“I’mjusttired,”Isaytohim.“It’sfine.I’msorryifIwasrudetoyourfriends.”
“Friend,”hesaysasclarification.“Dillonisnotmyfriend.”
Idon’taskhimwhathemeansbythat.Heglancesintothelivingroom,thenlooksbackatme.Heleansagainsttheframeofthedoor,anindicationthatmyrelinquishingtheapartmentfortheirgamewasn’ttheendofourconversation.Heswingshiseyestothescrubsstrewnacrossmymattress.“Yougotajob?”
“Yeah,”Isay,wonderingwhyhe’ssuddenlyupforconversation.“RegisterednurseinanER.”
Acreaseappearsonhisforehead,andIcan’ttellifit’saresultofconfusionorfascination.“Aren’tyoustillinnursingschool?HowcanyoualreadyworkasanRN?”
“I’mgettingmymaster’sinnursingsoIcanworkasaCRNA.IalreadyhavemyRNlicense.”
Hisexpressionisobstinate,soIclarify.
“Itallowsmetoadministeranesthesia.”
Hestaresatmeforafewsecondsbeforestandingupstraightandpushingoffthedoorframe.“Goodforyou,”hesays.
There’snosmile,though.
Whydoesn’theeversmile?
Hewalksbacktothelivingroom.Istepoutofthedoorwayandwatchhim.MilestakeshisseatonthecouchandgivestheTVhisfullattention.
Dillonisgivingmehisfullattention,butIlookawayandheadtothekitchentofindsomethingtoeat.Thereisn’tmuch,consideringIhaven’tcookedallweek,soIgraballthestuffIneedfromtherefrigeratorinordertomakeasandwich.WhenIturnaround,Dillonisstillstaring.Onlynowhe’sstaringfromaboutafootaway,insteadofallthewayfromthelivingroom.
Hesmiles,thenstepsforwardandreachesintotherefrigerator,cominginchesfrommyface.“Soyou’reCorbin’slittlesis?”
IthinkI’mwithMilesonthisone.Idon’tmuchlikeDillon,either.
Dillon’seyesaren’tanythinglikeMiles’seyes.WhenMileslooksatme,hiseyeshideeverything.Dillon’seyesdon’thideanything,andrightnow,they’reclearlyundressingme.
“Yes,”IsaysimplyasImakemywayaroundhim.Iwalktothepantryandopenittolookforthebread.OnceIfindit,Isetitonthebarandbeginmakingmysandwich.IlayoutbreadforanextrasandwichtotaketoCap.He’skindofgrownonmeinthelittletimeI’velivedhere.Ifoundoutheworksuptofourteenhoursadaysometimesbutonlybecausehelivesinthebuildingaloneanddoesn’thaveanythingbettertodo.Heseemstoappreciatemycompanyandespeciallygiftsintheformoffood,sountilImakemorefriendshere,IguessI’llbespendingmydowntimewithaneighty-year-old.
Dilloncasuallyleansagainstthecounter.“Youanurseorsomething?”Heopenshisbeerandbringsittohismouthbutpausesbeforetakingadrink.Hewantsmetoanswerhimfirst.
“Yep,”Isaywithaclippedvoice.
Hesmilesandtakesaswigofhisbeer.Icontinuemakingmysandwiches,intentionallytryingtoappearclosedoff,butDillondoesn’tseemtotakethehint.Hejustcontinuestostareatmeuntilmysandwichesaremade.
I’mnotofferingtomakehimadamnsandwichifthat’swhyhe’sstillhere.
“I’mapilot,”hesays.Hedoesn’tsayitinasmugway,butwhennoone’saskingyouwhatyouroccupationis,voluntarilycontributingittotheconversationnaturallycomesoffassmug.“IworkatthesameairlineasCorbin.”
He’sstaringatme,waitingformetobeimpressedbythefactthathe’sapilot.Whathedoesn’trealizeisthatallthemeninmylifearepilots.Mygrandfatherwasapilot.Myfatherwasapilotuntilheretiredafewmonthsago.Mybrotherisapilot.
“Dillon,ifyou’retryingtoimpressme,you’regoingaboutitthewrongway.Imuchpreferaguywithalittlemoremodestyandalotlesswife.”Myeyesflashdowntotheweddingringonhislefthand.
“Gamejuststarted,”Milessays,walkingintothekitchen,directinghiswordstowardDillon.Hiswordsmightbeinnocuous,buthiseyesaredefinitelytellingDillonthatheneedstoreturntothelivingroom.
DillonsighsasifMilesjuststrippedawayallhisfun.“It’sgoodtoseeyouagain,Tate,”hesays,actingasiftheconversationwouldhavecometoanendwhetherMilesdecideditshouldornot.“Youshouldjoinusinthelivingroom.”HiseyesscrolloverMiles,eventhoughhe’sspeakingtome.“Apparently,thegamejuststarted.”DillonstraightensupandshoulderspastMiles,headingbackintothelivingroom.
MilesignoresDillon’sdisplayofannoyanceandslideshishandintohisbackpocket,pullingoutakey.Hehandsittome.“Gostudyatmyplace.”
It’snotarequest.
It’sademand.
“I’mfinestudyinghere.”Isetthekeyonthecounterandputthelidbackonthemayonnaise,refusingtobedisplacedfrommyownapartmentbythreeboys.Iwrapbothsandwichesinapapertowel.“TheTVisn’teventhatloud.”
Hetakesastepforwarduntilhe’scloseenoughtowhisper.I’mprettysureI’mleavingfingerindentationsonthebread,consideringeverysinglepartofme,rightdowntomytoes,justtensed.
“I’mnotfinewithyoustudyinghere.Notuntileveryoneleaves.Go.Takeyoursandwicheswithyou.”
Ilookdownatmysandwiches.Idon’tknowwhyIfeellikehejustinsultedthem.“Theyaren’tbothforme,”Isaydefensively.“I’mtakingonetoCap.”
Ilookbackupathim,andhe’sdoingthatunfathomablestaringthingagain.Witheyeslikehis,thatshouldbeillegal.Iraisemyeyebrowsexpectantly,becausehe’smakingmefeelreallyawkward.I’mnotanexhibit,yetthewayhewatchesmemakesmefeellikeone.
“YoumadeasandwichforCap?”
Inod.“Foodmakeshimhappy,”Isaywithashrug.
Hestudiestheexhibitalittlelongerbeforeleaningintomeagain.Hegrabsthekeyoffthebarbehindmeandslidesitintomyfrontpocket.
I’mnotevensureifhisfingerstouchedmyjeans,butIinhalesharplyandlookdownatmypocketashishandpullsaway,becauseholyhell,Iwasn’texpectingthat.
I’mfrozenwhilehe’scasuallymakinghiswaybackintothelivingroom,unaffected.Itfeelslikemypocketisonfire.
Ipersuademyfeettomove,needingsometimetoprocessallofthat.AfterdeliveringCap’ssandwich,IdoasMilessaysandheadovertohisapartment.Igoonmyownaccord,notbecausehewantsmeoverthereandnotbecauseIreallydohavealotofhomeworkbutbecausethethoughtofbeinginsidehisapartmentwithouthimthereissadisticallyexcitingtome.IfeellikeI’vejustbeenhandedafreepasstoallhissecrets.
???
Ishouldhaveknownbetterthantothinkhisapartmentwouldgivemeanysortofglimpseintowhoheis.Notevenhiseyescandothat.
Sure,itreallyisalotquieteroverhere,andyeah,I’vefinishedtwosolidhoursofhomework,butthat’sonlybecausetherearen’tanydistractions.
Atall.
Nopaintingsonthesterilewhitewalls.Nodecorations.Nocolorwhatsoever.Eventhesolidoaktabledividingthekitchenfromthelivingroomisundecorated.It’ssounlikethehomeIgrewupin,wherethekitchentablewasthefocalpointofmymother’sentirehouse,completewithatablerunner,anelaborateoverheadchandelier,andplatesto
Milesdoesn’tevenhaveafruitbowl.
Theonlyimpressivethingaboutthisapartmentisthebookshelfinthelivingroom.It’slinedwithdozensofbooks,whichismoreofaturn-ontomethananythingelsethatcouldpotentiallylinehisbarrenwalls.Iwalkovertothebookshelftoinspecthisselection,hopingtogetaglimpseofhimbasedonhischoiceofliterature.
RowafterrowofaeronauticalthemedbooksisallIfind.
I’malittledisappointedthatafterafreeinspectionofhisapartment,thebestIcanconcludeisthathemightbeaworkaholicwithlittletonotasteindécor.
Igiveuponthelivingroomandwalkintothekitchen.Iopentherefrigerator,butthere’shardlyanythinginit.Thereareafewtakeoutboxes.Condiments.Orangejuice.ItresemblesCorbin’srefrigerator—emptyandsadandsoverybachelor.
Iopenacabinet,grabacup,thenpourmyselfsomejuice.Idrinkitandrinsethecupoutinthesink.Thereareafewotherdishespiledupontheleftsideofthesink,soIbeginwashingthose,too.Evenhisplatesandcupslackpersonality—plainandwhiteandsad.
Ihavethesuddenurgetotakemycreditcardstraighttothestoreandbuyhimsomecurtains,anewsetofvibrantdishes,afewpaintings,andmaybeevenaplantortwo.Thisplaceneedsalittlelife.
Iwonderwhathisstoryis.Idon’tthinkhehasagirlfriend.I’veyettoseehimwithoneuptothispoint,andtheapartmentandobviouslackofafemale’stouchmakeitalikelyassumption.Idon’tthinkagirlcouldwalkintothisapartmentwithoutdecoratingitatleastalittlebitbeforesheleft,soI’massuminggirlsjustneverwalkintothisapartment.
ItmakesmewonderaboutCorbin,too.Allouryearsgrowinguptogether,he’sneverbeenopenabouthisrelationships,butI’mprettysurethat’sbecausehe’sneverbeeninarelationship.EverytimeI’veeverbeenintroducedtoagirlinhispast,sheneverseemstomakeitthroughanentireweekwithhim.Idon’tknowifthat’sbecausehedoesn’tlikekeepingsomeonearoundorifit’sasignthathe’stoodifficulttobearound.I’msureit’stheformer,basedonthenumberofrandomphonecallshereceivesfromwomen.
Consideringhisabundanceofone-nightstandsandlackofcommitment,itconfusesmehowhecouldbesoprotectiveofmegrowingup.Iguesshejustknewhimselftoowell.Hedidn’twantmedatingguyslikehim.
IwonderifMilesisaguylikeCorbin.
“Areyouwashingmydishes?”
Hisvoicecatchesmecompletelyoffguard,makingmejumpinmyskin.IspinaroundandcatchsightofaloomingMiles,almostdroppingtheglassinmyhandsintheprocess.Itslips,butIsomehowmanagetocatchitbeforeitcrashestothefloor.Itakeacalmingbreathandsetitdowngentlyinthesink.
“Finishedmyhomework,”Isay,swallowingthethicknessthatjustswelledinmythroat.Ilookatthedishesthatarenowinthestrainer.“Theyweredirty.”
Hesmiles.
Ithink.
Justassoonashislipsstarttocurlup,theymashbackintoastraightlineFalsealarm.
“Everyone’sgone,”Milessays,givingmetheallcleartovacatehispremises.Henoticestheorangejuicestilloutonthecounter,sohepicksitupandputsitbackintherefrigerator.
“Sorry,”Imutter.“Iwasthirsty.”
Heturnstofacemeandleanshisshoulderintotherefrigerator,foldinghisarmsoverhischest.“Idon’tcareifyoudrinkmyjuice,Tate.”
Oh,wow.
Thatwasanoddlysexysentence.Sowashispresenceindeliveringit.
Stillnosmile,though.JesusChrist,thisman.Doeshenotrealizethatfacialexpressionsaresupposedtoaccompanyspeech?
Idon’twanthimtoseemydisappointment,soIturnbacktowardthesink.Iusethesprayertowashtheremainingsudsdownthedrain.Ifinditquitefitting,consideringtheweirdvibesfloatingaroundhiskitchen.“Howlonghaveyoulivedhere?”Iask,attemptingtoalleviatetheawkwardsilenceasIturnandfacehimagain.
“Fouryears.”
Idon’tknowwhyIlaugh,butIdo.Heraisesaneyebrow,confusedaboutwhyhisanswercausedmetolaugh.
“It’sjustthatyourapartment…”Iglancetowardthelivingroom,thenbacktohim.“It’skindofbland.Ithoughtmaybeyoujustmovedinandhaven’thadachancetodecorate.”
Ididn’tmeanforthattocomeoutlikeaninsult,butthat’sexactlyhowitsounded.I’mjusttryingtomakeconversation,butIthinkI’monlymakingthisawkwardnessworse.
Hiseyesmoveslowlyaroundhisapartmentasheprocessesmycomment.IwishIcouldtakeitback,butIdon’teventry.I’dprobablyjustmakeitworse.
“Iworkalot,”hesays.“Ineverhavecompany,soIguessitjusthasn’tbeenapriority.”
Iwanttoaskhimwhyheneverhascompany,butcertainquestionsseemofflimitstohim.“Speakingofcompany,what’supwithDillon?”
Milesshrugshisshoulders,leaninghisbackcompletelyagainsttherefrigerator.“Dillon’sanassholewhohasnorespectforhiswife,”hesaysflatly.Heturnsaroundcompletelyandwalksoutofthekitchen,headingtowardhisbedroom.HepusheshisbedroomdoorclosedbutleavesitopenjustenoughsothatIcanstillhearhimspeak.“ThoughtI’dwarnyoubeforeyoufellforhisact.”
“Idon’tfallforacts,”Isay.“EspeciallyactslikeDillon’s.”
“Good,”hesays.
Good?Ha.Milesdoesn’twantmetolikeDillon.IlovethatMilesdoesn’twantmetolikeDillon.
“Corbinwouldn’tlikeitifyoustartedsomethingupwithhim.HehatesDillon.”
Oh.Hedoesn’twantmetolikeDillonforCorbin’ssake.Whydidthatjustdisappointme?
Hewalksbackoutofhisbedroom,andhe’snolongerinhisjeansandT-shirt.He’sinafamiliarpairofslacksandacrisp,whiteshirt,unbuttonedandopen.
He’sputtingonapilot’suniform.
“You’reapilot?”Iask,somewhatperplexed.Myvoicemakesmesoundoddlyimpressed.
Henodsandwalksintothelaundryroomadjacenttothekitchen.“That’showIknowCorbin,”hesays.“Wewereinflightschooltogether.”Hewalksbackintohiskitchenwithalaundrybasketandsetsitonthecounter.“He’sagoodguy.”
Hisshirtisn’tbuttoned.
I’mstaringathisstomach.
Stopstaringathisstomach.
Ohmyword,hehastheV.Thosebeautifulindentationsonmenthatrunthelengthoftheirouterabdominalmuscles,disappearingbeneaththeirjeansasiftheindentationsarepointingtoasecretbull’s-eye.
JesusChrist,Tate,you’restaringathisdamncrotch!
He’sbuttoninghisshirtnow,soIsomehowgainsuperhumanstrengthandforcemyeyestolookbackupathisface.
Thoughts.Ishouldhavesomeofthose,butIcan’tfindthem.Maybeit’sbecauseIjustfoundouthe’sanairlinepilot.
Butwhywouldthatimpressme?
Itdoesn’timpressmethatDillon’sapilot.Butthenagain,Ididn’tfindoutDillonwasapilotwhilehewasdoinglaundryandflauntinghisabs.Aguyfoldinglaundrywhileflauntinghisabsandbeingapilotisseriouslyimpressive.
Milesisfullydressednow.He’sputtingonhisshoes,andI’mwatchinghimlikeI’minatheaterandhe’sthemainattraction.
“Isthatsafe?”Iask,findingacoherentthoughtsomehow.“You’vebeendrinkingwiththeguys,andnowyou’reabouttobeatthecontrolsofacommercialjet?”
Mileszipshisjacket,thenpicksupanalreadypackedduffelbagfromthefloor.“I’veonlyhadwatertonight,”hesays,rightbeforeexitingthekitchen.“I’mnotmuchofadrinker.AndIdefinitelydon’tdrinkonworknights.”
Ilaughandfollowhimtowardthelivingroom.Iwalktothetabletograbmythings.“Ithinkyou’reforgettinghowwemet,”Isay.“Move-inday?Someone-passed-out-drunk-in-the-hallwayday?”
Heopensthefrontdoortoletmeout.“Ihavenoideawhatyou’retalkingabout,Tate,”hesays.“Wemetonanelevator.Remember?”
Ican’ttellifhe’skidding,becausethere’snosmileorgleaminhiseyes
Heclosesthedoorbehindus.Ihandhimbackhisapartmentkey,andhelockshisdoor.Iwalktomineandopenit.
“Tate?”
IalmostpretendIdon’thearhimjustsohe’llhavetosaymynameagain.Instead,Iturnaroundandfacehim,pretendingtobecompletelyunaffectedbythisman.
“Thatnightyoufoundmeinthehallway?Thatwasanexception.Averyrareexception.”
There’ssomethingunspokeninhiseyesandmaybeeveninhisvoice.
Hestandspausedathisfrontdoor,poisedtowalktowardtheelevators.He’swaitingtoseeifIhaveanythingtosayinresponse.Ishouldtellhimgood-bye.MaybeIshouldtellhimtohaveasafeflight.Thatcouldbeconsideredbadluck,though.Ishouldjustsaygoodnight.
“WastheexceptionbecauseofwhathappenedwithRachel?”
Yes.Ireallyjustchosetosaythatinstead.
WHYdidIjustsaythat?
Hisposturechanges.Hisexpressionfreezes,asifmywordsjoltedhimwithaboltoflightning.He’smorethanlikelyconfusedthatIsaidthat,becauseheobviouslydoesn’trememberanythingaboutthatnight.
Quick,Tate.Recover.
“YouthoughtIwassomeonenamedRachel,”Iblurtout,explainingawaytheawkwardnessasbestIcan.“Ijustthoughtmaybesomethinghappenedbetweenthetwoofyouandthat’swhy…youknow.”
Milesinhalesadeepbreath,buthetriestohideit.Ihitanerve.
Wedon’ttalkaboutRachel,apparently
“Goodnight,Tate,”hesays,turningaway.
Ican’ttellwhatjusthappened.DidIembarrasshim?Pisshimoff?Makehimsad?
WhateverIdid,Ihatethisthingnow.Thisawkwardnessthat’sfillingthespacebetweenmydoorandtheelevatorhe’snowstandinginfrontof.
Iwalkinsidemyapartmentandclosemydoor,buttheawkwardnessiseverywhere.Itdidn’tremainoutinthehallwaychaptersix
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
Weeatdinner,butit’sawkward.
LisaandDadtrytoincludeusintheconversation,butneitherofusisinthemoodtotalk.Westareatourplates.Wepusharoundthefoodwithourforks
Wedon’twanttoeat.
DadasksLisaifshewantstogositoutback.
Lisasaysyes.
LisaasksRacheltohelpmeclearthetable.
Rachelsaysokay.
Wetaketheplatestothekitchen.
We’requiet.
RachelleansagainstthecounterwhileIloadthedishwasher.Shewatchesmedomybesttoignoreher.Shedoesn’trealizeshe’severywhere.She’sineverything.EverysinglethinghasjustbecomeRachel.
It’sconsumingme.
Mythoughtsaren’tthoughtsanymore.
MythoughtsareRachel.
Ican’tfallinlovewithyou,Rachel.
Ilookatthesink.IwanttolookatRachel.
Ibreatheinair.IwanttobreatheinRachel.
Iclosemyeyes.IonlyseeRachel.
Iwashmyhands.IwanttotouchRachel.
Idrymyhandsonatowelbeforeturningaroundtofaceher.Herhandsaregrippingthecounterbehindher.Minearefoldedacrossmychest.
“They’retheworstparentsintheworld,”shewhispers.
Hervoicecracks.
Myheartcracks.
“Despicable,”Isaytoher.
Shelaughs.
I’mnotsupposedtofallinlovewithyourlaugh,Rachel.
Shesighs.Ifallinlovewiththat,too.
“Howlonghavetheybeenseeingeachother?”Iaskher.
She’llbehonest.
Sheshrugs.“Aboutayear.It’sbeenlong-distanceuntilshemovedusheretobeclosertohim.”
Ifeelmymother’sheartbreaking.
Wehatehim.
“Ayear?”Iask.“Areyousure?”
Shenods.
Shedoesn’tknowaboutmymother.Icantell.
“Rachel?”
Isayhernameoutloud,justlikeI’vewantedtodosincethesecondImether.
Shecontinuestolookdirectlyatme.Sheswallows,thenbreathesoutashallow“Yeah?”
Isteptowardher.
Herbodyreacts.Shestandstallerbutnotbymuch.Shebreathesheavierbutnotbymuch.Hercheeksgrowredderbutnotbymuch.
It’salljustenough.
Myhandfitsherwaist.Myeyessearchhers.
Theydon’ttellmeno,soIdo.
Whenmylipstouchhers,it’ssomanythings.It’sgoodandbadandrightandwrongand
revenge
Sheinhales,stealingsomeofmybreaths.Ibreatheintoher,givinghermore.OurtonguestouchandourguiltintertwinesandmyfingersslidethroughthehairGodmadespecificallyforher.
MynewfavoriteflavorisRachel.
MynewfavoritethingisRachel.
IwantRachelformybirthday.IwantRachelforChristmas.IwantRachelforgraduation.
Rachel,Rachel,Rachel.
I’mgonnafallinlovewithyouanyway,Rachel
Thebackdooropens.
IreleaseRachel.
Shereleasesmebutonlyphysically.Icanstillfeelherineveryotherway.
Ilookawayfromher,buteverythingisstillRachel.
Lisawalksintothekitchen.Shelookshappy.
Shehasarighttobehappy.She’snottheonewhodied.
LisatellsRachelit’stimetogo.
Itellthembothgood-bye,butmywordsareonlyforRachel.Sheknowsthis.
Ifinishthedishes.
ItellmyfatherLisawasnice.
Idon’ttellhimIhatehimyet.MaybeIneverwill.Idon’tknowwhatgooditwoulddotolethimknowthatIdon’tseehimthesamewayanymore.
Nowhe’sjust…normal.Human.
Maybethat’stheriteofpassagebeforeyoubecomeaman—realizingyourfatherdoesn’thavelifefiguredoutanymorethanyoudo.
Igotomyroom.Itakeoutmyphone,andItextRachel.
Me:Whatdowedoabouttomorrownight?
Rachel:Welietothem?
Me:Canyoumeetmeatseven?
Rachel:Yes.
Me:Rachel?
Rachel:Yeah?
Me:Goodnight.
Rachel:Goodnight,Miles.
Iturnoffmyphone,becauseIwantthattobethelasttextIreceiveforthenight.Iclosemyeyes.
I’mfalling,Rachel.chapterseven
TATE
It’sbeentwoweekssinceI’veseenMilesbutonlytwosecondssincethelasttimeI’vethoughtabouthim.HeseemstoworkjustasmuchasCorbindoes,andwhileit’snicetohavetheplacetomyselfoccasionally,it’salsonicewhenCorbinisn’tworkingandthere’sactuallysomeonetotalkto.Iwouldsayit’snicewhenCorbinandMilesarebothoffwork,butthathasn’thappenedsinceI’velivedhere.
Untilnow.
“Hisdadisworking,andhe’soffuntilMonday,”Corbinsays.Ihadnoideahe’dinvitedMilestocomebackhomewithusforThanksgivinguntiljustnow.He’sknockingonMiles’sapartmentdoor.“Hedoesn’thaveanythingelsetodo.”
I’mprettysureInodafterhearingthosewords,butIturnandwalkstraighttowardtheelevator.I’mafraidthatwhenMilesopenshisdoor,myexcitementoverthefactthathe’scomingwithuswillbetransparent.
I’montheelevator,atthefarbackwall,whentheybothstepon.Milesfindsmeandnods,butthat’sallIget.ThelasttimeIspoketohim,Imadethingscompletelyawkwardbetweenus,soIdon’tsayaword.Ialsotrynottostareathim,butit’sextremelydifficulttofocusonanythingelse.He’scasuallydressedinabaseballcap,jeans,anda49ersT-shirt.Ithinkthat’swhyIfindhimhardtolookawayfrom,though,becauseI’vealwaysfoundguysmoreattractivewhentheyputlesseffortintotryingtoappearattractive.
Myeyesleavehisclothesandmeethisconcentratedstare.Idon’tknowwhethertosmileinembarrassmentorlookaway,soIjustchoosetocopyhisnextmove,waitingforhimtolookawayfirst
Hedoesn’t.Hecontinuestowatchmeinsilencefortheremainderoftheelevatorride,andIstubbornlydothesame.Whenwefinallymakeittothegroundfloor,I’mrelievedhestepsofffirst,becauseIhavetoinhaleaprettynoticeablebreath,consideringIhaven’tinhaledinatleastsixtyseconds.
“Whereyouthreeheaded?”Capasksoncewe’reallofftheelevator.
“HometoSanDiego,”Corbinsays.“YouhaveanyplansforThanksgiving?”
“Gonnabeabusydayforflights,”Capsays.“ReckonI’llbehereworking.”Hewinksinmydirection,andIwinkbackbeforeheshiftshisattentiontowardMiles.“Howaboutyou,boy?Youheadedhomeyourself?”
MilessilentlywatchesCapinthesamewayhesilentlystaredatmeontheelevator.Thisdisappointsmetremendously,becauseontheelevator,IhadasmallglimmerofhopethatMileswasstaringatmelikehewasbecausehefeelsthesamepulltomethatIfeelwhenI’maroundhim.Butnow,watchinghisvisualstandoffwithCap,I’malmostcertainitdoesn’tmeanMilesisattractedtoapersonsimplybecausehestaresunabashedly.Milesapparentlyjustlooksateveryonethisway.Averysilentandawkwardfivesecondsfollows,withneitherofthemspeaking.MaybeMilesdoesn’tlikebeingreferredtoas“boy”?
“HaveagoodThanksgiving,Cap,”Milesfinallyutters,notevenbotheringtoanswerCap’squestion.HeturnsandbeginswalkingthroughthelobbywithCorbin.
IlookatCapandshrugmyshoulders.“Wishmeluck,”Isayquietly.“SeemsMr.Archermightbehavinganotherbadday.”
Capsmiles.“Nah,”hesays,backingupasteptowardhischair.“Somepeoplejustdon’tlikequestionsisall.”Hefallsintohischair.Hegivesmeafarewellsalute,andIsalutehimbackbeforewalkingtowardtheexit.
Ican’ttellifCapexcusesMiles’srudebehaviorbecausehelikesMilesorifhejustmakesexcusesforeveryone.
“I’lldrivethereifyouwant,”MilessaystoCorbinwhenweallreachthecar.“Iknowyouhaven’tsleptyet.Youcandrivebacktomorrow.”
Corbinagrees,andMilesopensthedriver’s-sidedoor.Iclimbintothebackseatandtrytofigureoutwheretosit.Idon’tknowifIshouldsitdirectlybehindMiles,inthemiddle,orbehindCorbin.AnywhereIsit,I’llfeelhim.He’severywhere.
EverythingisMiles.
That’showitiswhenapersondevelopsanattractiontowardsomeone.He’snowhere,thensuddenlyhe’severywhere,whetheryouwanthimtobeornot.
ItmakesmewonderifI’manywheretohim,butthethoughtdoesn’tlastlong.Icantellwhenaguyisattractedtome,andMilesdefinitelydoesnotfallintothatcategory.WhichiswhyIneedtofigureouthowtostopwhateverthisisIfeelwhenI’maroundhim.ThelastthingIwantrightnowisasillycrushonaguywhenI’vebarelygottimetofocusonbothworkandschool.
Ipullapaperbackoutofmypurseandbegintoread.Milesturnsontheradio,andCorbinlayshisseatbackandkickshisfeetuponthedash.“Don’twakemeupuntilwe’rethere,”hesays,pullinghiscapoverhiseyes.
IglanceatMiles,andhe’sadjustinghisrearviewmirror.Heturnsaroundandlooksbehindustobackoutofthespot,andhiseyesbrieflymeetmine.
“Youcomfortable?”heasks.Heturnsaroundbeforegettingmyanswerandputsthecarindrive,thenglancesatmeintherearviewmirror.
“Yep,”Isay.Imakesuretotackasmileontotheendofthatword.Idon’twanthimtothinkI’mupsetthathecame,butit’shardformenottoappearclosedoffwhenI’maroundhim,sinceI’mtryingsohardtobe.
Helooksstraightahead,andIlookbackdownatmybook.
Thirtyminutespass,andthemovementofthecaraccompaniedbymyattempttoreadismakingmyheadhurt.Isetthebookdownbesidemeandreadjustmyselfinthebackseat.IleanmyheadbackandpropmyfeetupontheconsolebetweenMilesandCorbin.Heglancesatmeintherearviewmirror,andhiseyesfeellikethey’rehands,runningovereveryinchofme.Heholdshisstarefornolongerthantwoseconds,thenlooksbackattheroad.
Ihatethis.
Ihavenoideawhat’sgoingthroughhishead.Heneversmiles.Heneverlaughs.Hedoesn’tflirt.Hisfaceappearsasifhekeepsaconstantveilofarmorbetweenhisexpressionsandtherestoftheworld.
I’vealwaysbeenasuckerforthequiettypesofguys.Primarilybecausemostguystalktoomuch,andit’spainfulhavingtosufferthrougheverysinglethoughtthatgoesthroughtheirheads.Milesmakesmewishheweretheoppositeofthequiettype,though.Iwanttoknowallthethoughtsthatpassthroughhishead.Especiallytheonethoughtthat’sinthererightnow,hidingbehindthatunwavering,stoicexpression.
I’mstillstaringathimintherearviewmirror,tryingtofigurehimout,whenheglancesatmeagain.Ilookdownatmyphone,alittleembarrassedthathecaughtmestaringathim.Butthatmirrorislikeamagnet,anddammitifmyeyesdon’tshootbackuptoit.
ThesecondIlookintothemirroragain,sodoeshe.
Ilookbackdown.
Shit.
Thisdriveisabouttobethelongestdriveofmyentirelife.
Imakeitthreeminutes,thenIlookagain.
Shit.Sodoeshe.
Ismile,amusedbywhatevergamethisiswe’replaying.
Hesmiles,too.
He.
Smiles.
Too.
Mileslooksbackattheroad,buthissmileremainsforseveralseconds.Iknow,becauseIcan’tstopstaringatit.Iwanttotakeapictureofitbeforeitdisappearsagain,butthatwouldbeweird.
Helowershisarmtorestitontheconsole,butmyfeetareinhisway.Ipushuponmyhands.“Sorry,”Isay,asIbegintopullthemback.
Hisfingerswraparoundmybarefoot,stoppingme.“You’refine,”hesays.
Hishandisstillwrappedaroundmyfoot.I’mstaringatit.
Holyhell,histhumbjustmoved.Deliberatelymoved,strokingthesideofmyfoot.Mythighsclenchtogetherandmybreathhaltsinmylungsandmylegstense,becauseI’llbedamnedifhishanddidn’tjustcaressmyfootbeforehepulleditaway.
Ihavetochewontheinsideofmycheektokeepfrom-smiling.
Ithinkyou’reattractedtome,Miles.
???
Assoonaswearriveatmyparents’place,myfatherputsCorbinandMilestoworkhangingChristmaslights.ItakeourthingsintothehouseandgiveCorbinandMilesmyroom,sinceit’stheonlyonewithtwobeds.ItakeCorbin’soldbedroom,thenheadtothekitchentohelpmymomfinishpreppingdinner.
Thanksgivinghasalwaysbeenasmallaffairatourhouse.MomandDaddidn’tlikehavingtochoosebetweenfamilies,andmydadwashardlyeverhome,sinceapilot’sbusiesttimesofyeararetheholidays.MymotherdecidedThanksgivingwouldbereservedforimmediatefamilyonly,soeveryyearonThanksgivingDay,it’salwaysjustbeenme,Corbin,Mom,andDad,whenDadishome.Lastyear,itwasjustMomandme,sinceDadandCorbinwerebothworking.
Thisyear,it’sallofus.
AndMiles.
It’sstrange,himbeingherelikethis.Momseemedhappytomeethim,soIguessshedidn’tmindtoomuch.Mydadloveseveryone,andhe’smorethanhappytohavesomeoneelsehelpingwiththeChristmaslights,soIknowthepresenceofathirdpersondoesn’tbotherhimintheleast.
Mymotherpassesmethepanofboiledeggs.Ibegincrackingthemtopreparethemfordeviledeggs,andsheleansacrossthekitchenislandandrestsherchininherhands.“ThatMilessureisalooker,”shesayswithanarchofhereyebrow.
Letmeexplainsomethingaboutmymother.She’sagreatmom.Areallygreatmom.ButIhaveneverbeencomfortabletalkingtoheraboutguys.ItstartedwhenIwastwelveandIgotmyfirstperiod.Shewassoexcitedshecalledthreeofherfriendstotellthembeforesheevenexplainedwhatthehellwashappeningtome.Ilearnedprettyearlyonthatsecretsaren’tsecretsoncetheyreachherears.
“He’snotbad,”Isay,completelylying.I’mabsolutelylying,becauseheisalooker.Hisgolden-brownhairpairedwiththosemesmerizingblueeyes,hisbroadshoulders,thescruffthatlineshisfirmjawwhenhe’shadacoupleofdaysoffwork,thewayhealwayssmellssofantasticallydelicious,likehejuststeppedoutoftheshowerandhasn’teventowel-driedyet.
Oh,myGod.
WhothehellamIrightnow?
“Doeshehaveagirlfriend?”
Ishrug.“Idon’treallyknowhim,Mom.”Itakethepantothesinkandrunwaterovertheeggstoloosentheshells.“HowisDadlikingretirement?”Iask,attemptingtochangethesubject.
Mymothergrins.It’saknowinggrin,andIabsolutelyhateit.
IguessIneverhavetotellheranything,becauseshe’smymom.Shealreadyknows.
Iblush,thenturnaroundandfinishcrackingthedamneggs.chaptereight
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
“I’mgoingtoIan’stonight,”Itellhim.
Myfatherdoesn’tcare.He’sgoingoutwithLisa.HismindisonLisa.
HiseverythingisLisa.
HiseverythingusedtobeCarol.SometimeshiseverythingwasCarolandMiles.
NowhiseverythingisLisa.
That’sokay,becausemyeverythingusedtobehimandCarol.
Notanymore.
Itexthertoseeifshecanmeetmesomewhere.ShesaysLisajustlefttocometomyhouse.ShesaysIcancometoherhouseandpickherup.
WhenIgetthere,Idon’tknowifIshouldgetoutofthecar.Idon’tknowifshewantsmeto.
Ido.
Iwalktoherdoor,andIknock.I’mnotsurewhattosaywhensheopensthedoor.PartofmewantstotellherI’msorry,thatIshouldn’thavekissedher.
PartofmewantstoaskheramillionquestionsuntilIknoweverythingabouther.
Mostofmewantstokissheragain,especiallynowthatthedoorisopenandshe’sstandingrightinfrontofme.
“Wanttocomeinforalittlewhile?”sheasks.“Shewon’tbebackforafewhours,atleast.”
Inod.IwonderifshelovesmynodasmuchasIlovehers.
Sheshutsthedoorbehindme,andIlookaround.Theirapartmentissmall.I’veneverlivedinaplacethissmall.IthinkIlikeit.Thesmallerthehouse,themoreafamilyisforcedtoloveoneanother.Theyhavenoextraspacenotto.ItmakesmewishmydadandIwouldgetasmallerplace.Aplacewherewe’dbeforcedtointeract.Aplacewherewe’dstophavingtopretendthatmymotherdidn’tleavewaytoomuchspaceinourhouseaftershedied.
Rachelwalkstothekitchen.SheasksmeifIwantsomethingtodrink.
Ifollowherandaskherwhatshehas.Shetellsmeshehasprettymucheverythingexceptmilk,tea,soda,coffee,juice,andalcohol.“Ihopeyoulikewater,”shesays.Shelaughsatherself.
Ilaughwithher.“Waterisperfect.Wouldhavebeenmyfirstchoice.”
Shegetsuseachaglassofwater.Weleanagainstoppositecounters.
Westareateachother.
Ishouldn’thavekissedherlastnight
“Ishouldn’thavekissedyou,Rachel.”
“Ishouldn’thaveletyou,”shetellsme.
Westareateachothersomemore.I’mwonderingifshewouldletmekissheragain.I’mwonderingifIshouldleave
“It’llbeeasytostopthis,”Isay.
I’mlying
“No,itwon’t,”shesays.
She’stellingthetruth
“Youthinkthey’llgetmarried?”
Shenods.Forsomereason,Idon’tlovethisnodasmuch.Idon’tlovethequestionit’sanswering.
“Miles?”
Shelooksdownatherfeet.Shesaysmynamelikeit’sagunandshe’sfiringawarningshotandI’msupposedtorun.
Isprint.“What?”
“Weonlyrentedtheapartmentforamonth.Ioverheardheronthephonewithhimyesterday.”Shelooksbackupatme.“We’removinginwithyouintwoweeks.”
Itripoverthehurdle.
She’smovinginwithme.
She’llbelivinginmyhouse.
Hermotherisgoingtofillallmymother’semptyspaces.
Iclosemyeyes.IstillseeRachel.
Iopenmyeyes.IstareatRachel.
Iturnaroundandgripthecounter.Iletmyheadfallbetweenmyshoulders.Idon’tknowwhattodo.Idon’twanttolikeher.
Idon’twanttofallinlovewithyou,Rachel.
I’mnotstupid.Iknowhowlustworks.
Lustwantswhatlustcan’thave.
LustwantsmetohaveRachel.
ReasoningwantsRacheltogoaway.
ItakeReasoning’sside,andIturntofaceRachelagain.“Thiswon’tgoanywhere,”Itellher.“Thisthingwithus.Itwon’tendwell.”
“Iknow,”shewhispers.
“Howdowestopit?”Iaskher.
Shelooksatme,hopingI’llanswermyownquestion.
Ican’t.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
LOUD,DEAFENINGSILENCE.
Iwanttocovermyearswithmyhands.
Iwanttocovermyheartwitharmor.
Idon’tevenknowyou,Rachel
“Ishouldleave,”Isay.
Shetellsmeokay.
“Ican’t,”Iwhisper.
Shetellsmeokay.
Westareateachother.
MaybeifIstareatherenough,I’llgettiredofstaringather.
Iwanttotasteheragain.
MaybeifItasteherenough,I’llgettiredoftastingher.
Shedoesn’twaitformetoreachher.Shemeetsmehalfway.Igrabherfaceandshegrabsmyarms,andourguiltcollideswhenourmouthscollide.Welietoourselvesaboutthetruth.
Wetellourselveswe’vegotthis…whenwedon’thaveitatall.
Myskinfeelsbetterwithhertouchingit.Myhairfeelsbetterwithherhandsinit.Mymouthfeelsbetterwithhertongueinsideofit.
Iwishwecouldbreathelikethis.
Livelikethis.
Lifewouldfeelbetterwithherlikethis.
Herbackisagainsttherefrigeratornow.Myhandsarebesideherhead.Ipullawayandlookather.
“Iwanttoaskyouamillionquestions,”Isaytoher.
Shesmiles.“Iguessyou’dbettergetstarted.”
“Whereareyougoingtocollege?”
“Michigan,”shesays.“Whataboutyou?”
“Stayingheretogetmybachelor’s,andthenmybestfriend,Ian,andIaregoingtoflightschool.Iwanttobeapilot.Whatdoyouwanttobe?”
“Happy,”shesayswithasmile.
That’stheperfectanswer.
“When’syourbirthday?”Iaskher.
“Januarythird,”shesays.“I’llbeeighteen.When’syours?”
“Tomorrow,”Itellher.“I’llbeeighteen.”
Shedoesn’tbelievethatmybirthdayistomorrow.IshowhermyID.Shetellsmehappyearlybirthday.Shekissesmeagain.
“Whathappensiftheygetmarried?”Iaskher.
“They’llneverapproveofusbeingtogether,eveniftheydon’tgetmarried.”
She’sright.Itwouldbehardtoexplaintotheirfriends.Hardtoexplaintotherestofthefamily.
“Sowhat’sthepointofcontinuingthisifweknowitwon’tendwell?”Iaskher.
“Becausewedon’tknowhowtostop.”
She’sright.
“You’regoingtoMichiganinsevenmonths,andI’llbehereinSanFrancisco.Maybethat’souranswer.”
Shenods.“Sevenmonths?”
Inod.Itouchherlipswithmyfinger,becauseherlipsarethekindoflipsthatneedappreciating,evenwhentheyaren’tbeingkissed.“Wedothisforsevenmonths.Wedon’ttellanyone.Then…”Istoptalking,becauseIdon’tknowhowtosaythewordsWestop.
“Thenwestop,”shewhispers.
“Thenwestop,”Iagree.
Shenods,andIcanactuallyhearourcountdownbegin.
Ikissher,anditfeelsevenbetternowthatwehaveaplan.
“We’vegotthis,Rachel.”
Shesmilesinagreement.“We’vegotthis,Miles.”
Igivehermouththeappreciationitdeserves.
I’mgonnaloveyouforsevenmonths,Rachel.chapternine
TATE
“Nurse!”Corbinyells.Hewalksintothekitchen,andMilesisfollowingbehindhim.CorbinstepsasideandpointstowardMiles.Hishandiscoveredinblood.It’sdripping.MilesislookingatmelikeI’msupposedtoknowwhattodo.Thisisn’tanER.Thisismymom’skitchen.
“Alittlehelphere?”Milessays,grippinghiswristtightly.Hisbloodisdrippingalloverthefloor.
“Mom!”Iyell.“Where’syourfirst-aidkit?”I’mopeningcabinets,tryingtofindit.
“Downstairsbathroom!Underthesink!”sheyells.
Ipointtowardthebathroom,andMilesfollowsme.Iopenthecabinetandpulloutthekit.Closingthelidonthetoilet,IdirectMilestotakeaseat,thenIsitontheedgeofthetubandpullhishandtome.“What’dyoudo?”Ibegintocleanitandinspectthecut.It’sdeep,rightacrossthecenterofhispalm.
“Grabbedtheladder.Itwasfalling.”
Ishakemyhead.“Youshouldhavejustletitfall.”
“Icouldn’t,”hesays.“Corbinwasonit.”
Ilookupathim,andhe’swatchingmewiththosecontrastinglyintenseblueeyesofhis.Ilookbackdownathishand.“Youneedstitches.”
“Yousure?”
“Yeah,”Isay.“IcandriveyoutotheER.”
“Can’tyoujuststitchituphere?”
Ishakemyhead.“Idon’thavetherightsupplies.Ineedsutures.It’sprettydeep.”
Heuseshisotherhandtoriflethroughthefirst-aidkit.Hepullsoutaspoolofthreadandhandsittome.“Doyourbest.”
“It’snotlikeI’msewingonadamnbutton,Miles.”
“I’mnotspendingthewholedayinanemergencyroomforacut.Justdowhatyoucan.I’llbefine.”
Idon’twanthimtospendthedayinanemergencyroom,either.Thatmeanshewouldn’tbehere.“Ifyourhandgetsinfectedandyoudie,I’mdenyinganypartinthis.”
“IfmyhandgetsinfectedandIdie,I’dbetoodeadtoblameyou.”
“Goodpoint,”Isay.Icleanhiswoundagain,thentakethesuppliesI’llneedandlaythemoutonthecounter.Ican’tgetagoodanglewithhowwe’repositioned,soIstandupandpropmylegontheedgeofthetub.Iputhishandonmyleg.
Iputhishandonmyleg.
Oh,hell.
Thisisn’tgonnaworkwithhisarmdrapedacrossmyleglikethis.IfIwantmyhandstoremaincalmandnotshake,I’mgoingtoneedtorepositionus.
“Thiswon’twork,”Isay,turningtofacehim.Itakehishandandrestitonthecounter,thenstanddirectlyinfrontofhim.Theotherwayworkedbetter,butIcan’thavehimtouchingmylegwhileIdothis.
“It’sgonnahurt,”Iwarn.
Helaughsasthoughheknowspainandtohim,thisisn’tpain.
Ipiercehisskinwiththeneedle,andhedoesn’tevenflinch.
Hedoesn’tmakeasound.
Hewatchesmeworkquietly.Everynowandthen,helooksupfrommyhandandwatchesmyface.Wedon’tspeak,likealways.
Itrytoignorehim.Itrytofocusonhishandandhiswoundandhowitdesperatelyneedstobeclosed,butourfacesaresoclose,andIcanfeelhisbreathonmycheekeverytimeheexhales.Andhebeginstoexhalealot.
“You’llhaveascar,”Isayinaquietwhisper.
Iwonderwheretherestofmyvoicewent.
Ipushtheneedleinforthefourthtime.Iknowithurts,buthedoesn’tletitshow.Everytimeitpierceshisskin,Ihavetostopmyselffromwincingforhim.
Ishouldbefocusingonhisinjury,buttheonlythingIcansenseisthefactthatourkneesaretouching.ThehandofhisthatI’mnotstitchingisrestingontopofhisknee.Oneofthetipsofhisfingersistouchingmyknee.
Ihavenoideahowsomuchcanbegoingonrightnow,butallIcanfocusonisthetipofthatfinger.Itfeelsashotagainstmyjeansasabrandingiron.Hereheiswithaseriousgash,bloodsoakingintothetowelbeneathhishand,myneedlepiercinghisskin,andallIcanfocusonisthattinylittlecontactbetweenmykneeandhisfinger.
Itmakesmewonderwhatthattouchwouldfeellikeiftherewasn’talayerofmaterialbetweenus.
Oureyeslockfortwoseconds,andthenIquicklylookbackdownathishand.He’snotlookingathishandatallnow.Hestaresatme,andIdomybesttoignorethewayhe’sbreathing.Ican’ttellifhisbreathinghasspedupbecauseofhowcloseI’mstandingtohimorbecauseI’mhurtinghim.
Twoofthetipsofhisfingersaretouchingmyknee.
Three.
Iinhaleagainandtrytofocusonfinishinghisstitches.
Ican’t.
Thisisdeliberate.Thistouchisn’tanaccidentalgraze.He’stouchingmebecausehewantstobetouchingme.Hisfingerstrailaroundmyknee,andhishandslipstothebackofmyleg.Helayshisforeheadagainstmyshoulderwithasigh,andhesqueezesmylegwithhishand.
IhavenoideahowI’mstillstanding.
“Tate,”hewhispers.Hesaysmynamepainfully,soIpausewhatI’mdoingandwaitforhimtotellmeithurts.Iwaitforhimtoaskmetogivehimaminute.That’swhyhe’stouchingme,isn’tit?BecauseI’mhurtinghim?
Hedoesn’tspeakagain,soIfinishthelaststitchandknotthethread.
“It’sover,”Isay,replacingtheitemsonthecounter.Hedoesn’treleaseme,soIdon’tbackawayfromhim.
Hishandslowlybeginstoslideupthebackofmyleg,allthewayupmythigh,aroundtomyhipanduptomywaist.
Breathe,Tate.
Hisfingersgripmywaist,andhepullsmecloser,stillwithhisheadpressedagainstme.Myhandsfindhisshoulders,becauseIhavetograbontosomethinginordertosteadymyself.Everymuscleinmybodysomehowjustforgothowtodoitsjob.
I’mstillstanding,andhe’sstillsitting,butI’mpositionedbetweenhislegsnowthathe’spulledmesoclose.Heslowlybeginstolifthisfacefrommyshoulder,andIhavetoclosemyeyes,becausehe’smakingmesonervousIcan’tlookathim.
Ifeelhimtilthisfaceuptolookatme,butmyeyesarestillclosed.Isqueezethemalittletighter.Idon’tknowwhy.Idon’tknowanythingrightnow.IjustknowMiles.
Andrightnow,IthinkMileswantstokissme.
Andrightnow,I’mprettydamnsureIwanttokissMiles.
Hishandslowlytrailsallthewayupmybackuntilhe’stouchingthebackofmyneck.Ifeellikehishandhasleftmarksoneverysinglepartofmehe’stouched.Hisfingersareatthebaseofmyneck,andhismouthisnomorethanhalfaninchfrommyjaw.SocloseIcan’tdistinguishifit’shislipsorhisbreathsthatarefeatheringmyskin.
IfeellikeI’mabouttodie,andthereisn’tadamnthinginthatfirst-aidkitthatcouldsaveme.
Hetightenshisgriponmyneck…andthenhekillsme.
Orhekissesme.Ican’ttellwhich,sinceI’mprettysuretheywouldfeelthesame.Hislipsagainstminefeellikeeverything.Likelivinganddyingandbeingreborn,allatthesametime.
GoodLord.He’skissingme.
Histongueisalreadyinmymouth,gentlycaressingmine,andIdon’tevenrememberhowthathappened.I’mokaywithit,though.I’mokaywiththis.
Hebeginstostand,buthismouthremainsonmine.Hewalksmeafewfeetuntilthewallbehindmereplacesthehandthatwasonthebackofmyhead.Nowhe’stouchingmywaist.
Oh,myGod,hismouthissopossessive.
Hisfingersaresplayedoutagain,diggingintomyhip.
Holyhell,hejustgroaned.
Hishandmovesfrommywaistandglidesdowntomyleg.
Killmenow.Justkillmenow.
Heliftsmylegandwrapsitaroundhim,thenpressesagainstmesobeautifullyImoanintohismouth.Thekisscomestoanabrupthalt.
Whyishepullingaway?Don’tstop,Miles.
Hedropsmyleg,andhispalmhitsthewallbesidemyheadasifheneedsthesupporttocontinuestanding.
No,no,no.Keepgoing.Putyourmouthbackonmine.
Itrytolookathiseyesagain,butthey’reshut.
They’reregrettingthis.
Don’topenthem,Miles.Idon’twanttoseeyouregretthis.
Hepresseshisforeheadagainstthewallbesidemyhead,stillleaningagainstmeaswebothstandquietly,attemptingtoreturnairtoourlungs.Afterseveraldeepbreaths,hepushesoffthewall,turnsaround,andwalkstothecounter.Luckily,Ididn’tseehiseyesbeforeheopenedthem,andnowhisbackistome,soIcan’tseetheregretheobviouslyfeels.Hepicksupapairofmedicalscissorsandcutsthrougharollofgauze.
I’mstucktothewall.IthinkI’llbehereforever.
I’mwallpapernow.That’sit.That’sallIam.
“Ishouldn’thavedonethat,”hesays.Hisvoiceisfirm.Hard.Likemetal.Likeasword.
“Ididn’tmind,”Isay.Myvoiceisn’tfirm.It’slikeliquid.Itevaporates.
Hewrapshiswoundedhand,thenturnsaroundandfacesme.
Hiseyesarefirmlikehisvoicewas.They’realsohard,likemetal.Likeswords,slicingthroughtheropesthatheldwhatlittledanglinghopeIhadforhimandmeandthatkiss.
“Don’tletmedothatagain,”hesays.
IwanthimtodothatagainmorethanIwantThanksgivingdinner,butIdon’ttellhimthat.Ican’tspeak,becausehisregretiscaughtinmythroat.
Heopensthebathroomdoorandleaves.
I’mstillstucktothewall.
What.
The.
Hell?
???
I’mnolongerstucktothebathroomwall.
NowI’mstucktomychair,convenientlyseatedatthedinnertablenexttoMiles.
Miles,whomIhaven’tspokentosincehereferredtohimselforusorourkissas“that.”
Don’tletmedo“that”again.
Icouldn’tstophimifIwantedto.Iwant“that”somuchIdon’tevenwanttoeat,andheprobablydoesn’trealizehowmuchIloveThanksgivingdinner.WhichmeansIwant“that”alot,and“that”isn’treferringtotheplateoffoodinfrontofme.“That”isMiles.Us.MekissingMiles.Mileskissingme.
I’msuddenlyverythirsty.Igrabmyglassanddownhalfofmywaterinthreehugegulps.
“Doyouhaveagirlfriend,Miles?”mymotherasks.
Yes,Mom.Keepaskinghimquestionslikethat,sinceI’mtooscaredtodoitmyself
Milesclearshisthroat.“No,ma’am,”hesays.
Corbinlaughsunderhisbreath,whichstirsupacloudofdisappointmentinmychest.Apparently,MileshasthesameviewonrelationshipsasCorbindoes,andCorbinfindsitamusingthatmymotherwouldassumehe’scapableofcommitment.
Isuddenlyfindthekisswesharedearlieralotlessimpactful.
“Well,aren’tyouquitethecatch,then,”shesays.“Airlinepilot,single,handsome,polite.”
Milesdoesn’trespond.Hesmilesfaintlyandshovelsabiteofpotatoesintohismouth.Hedoesn’twanttotalkabouthimself.
That’stoobad.
“Mileshasn’thadagirlfriendinalongtime,Mom,”Corbinsays,confirmingmysuspicion.“Doesn’tmeanhe’ssingle,though.”
Mymomtiltsherheadinconfusion.SodoI.SodoesMiles.
“Whatdoyoumean?”shesays.Hereyesimmediatelygrowwide,though.“Oh!I’msosorry.That’swhatIgetforbeingnosy.”ShesaysthelastpartofhersentencelikeshejustcametosomerealizationthatIstillhaven’tcometo.
She’sapologizingtoMilesnow.She’sembarrassed.
Stillconfused.
“AmImissingsomething?”mydadasks
MymotherpointsherforkatMiles.“He’sgay,honey,”shesays.
Um…
“Isnot,”mydadsaysfirmly,laughingatherassumption.
I’mshakingmyhead.Don’tshakeyourhead,Tate.
“Milesisn’tgay,”Isaydefensively,lookingatmymother.
WhydidIsaythatoutloud?
NowCorbinlooksconfused.HelooksatMiles.AspoonfulofpotatoesispausedinmidairinfrontofMiles,andhiseyebrowiscocked.He’sstaringatCorbin.
“Oh,shit,”Corbinsays.“Ididn’tknowitwasasecret.Dude,I’msosorry.”
Mileslowershisspoonfulofmashedpotatoestohisplate,stilleyeingCorbinwithaperplexedlookabouthim.“I’mnotgay.”
Corbinnods.Heholdsuphispalmsandmouths,“I’msorry,”likehedidn’tmeantorevealsuchabigsecret.
Milesshakeshishead.“Corbin.I’mnotgay.NeverhavebeenandprettysureIneverwillbe.Whatthehell,man?”
CorbinandMilesarestaringateachother,andeveryoneelseiswatchingMiles.
“B-but,”Corbinstutters.“Yousaid…onetimeyoutoldme…”
Milesdropshisspoonandcovershismouthwithhishand,stiflinghisloudlaughter.
Oh,myGod,Miles.Laugh.
Laugh,laugh,laugh.Pleasethinkthisisthefunniestthingthat’severhappened,becauseyourlaughisalsosomuchbetterthanThanksgivingdinner.
“WhatdidIsaytoyouthatmadeyouthinkIwasgay?”
Corbinsitsbackinhischair.“Idon’tremember,exactly.Yousaidsomethingaboutnotbeingwithagirlinmorethanthreeyears.Ijustthoughtthatwasyourwayoftellingmeyouweregay.”
Everyoneislaughingnow.Evenme.
“Thatwasmorethanthreeyearsago!Thiswholetime,you’vethoughtIwasgay?”
Corbinisstillconfused.“But…”
Tears.Mileshastearshe’slaughingsohard.
It’sbeautiful.
IfeelbadforCorbin.He’skindofembarrassed.IdolikehowMilesthinksit’sfunny,though.Ilikethatitdidn’tembarrasshim.
“Threeyears?”mydadsays,stillstuckonthesamethoughtI’mstillkindofstuckon.
“Thatwasthreeyearsago,”Corbinsays,finallylaughingalongwithMiles.“It’sprobablybeensixbynow.”
Thetableslowlygrowsquiet.ThisembarrassesMiles.
IkeepthinkingaboutthatkissinthebathroomearlierandhowIknowforafactithasn’tbeensixyearssincehe’sbeenwithagirl.Aguywithamouthaspossessiveasthatoneknowshowtouseit,andI’msureitgetsusedalot.
Idon’twanttothinkaboutit.
Idon’twantmyfamilythinkingaboutit.
“You’rebleedingagain,”Isay,lookingdownattheblood-soakedgauzethat’sstillwrappedaroundhishand.Iturntomymother.“Doyouhaveanyliquidbandage?”
“No,”shesays.“Thatstuffscaresme.”
IlookatMiles.“Afterweeat,I’llcheckit,”Isay.
Milesnodsbutneverlooksatme.Mymotherasksmeaboutwork,andMilesisnolongerthecenterofattention.Ithinkhe’srelievedaboutthat.
???
Iturnoffmylightandcrawlintobed,notsurewhattomakeoftoday.Weneverspokeagainafterdinner,eventhoughIspentagoodtenminutesredressinghiswoundinthelivingroom.
Wedidn’tspeakthroughtheentireprocess.Ourlegsdidn’ttouch.Hisfingerdidn’ttouchmyknee.Hedidn’tevenlookupatme.Hejustwatchedhishandtheentiretime,focusedonitlikeitwouldfalloffifhelookedaway.
Idon’tknowwhattothinkaboutMilesorthatkiss.He’sobviouslyattractedtome,orhewouldn’thavekissedme.Sadly,that’senoughforme.Idon’tevencareifhelikesme.Ijustwanthimtobeattractedtome,becausethelikingcancomelater.
Iclosemyeyesandtrytofallasleepforthefifthtime,butit’spointless.Irollontomysideandfacethedoorjustintimetoseetheshadowofsomeone’sfeetapproachit.Iwatchthedoor,waitingforittoopen,buttheshadowsdisappear,andfootstepscontinuedownthehall.I’malmostpositivethatwasMilesbutonlybecausehe’stheonlypersononmymindrightnow.IreleaseafewcontrolledbreathsinordertocalmmyselfdownenoughtodecidewhetherIwanttofollowhim.I’monlyonthethirdbreathwhenIhopoutofbed.
Idebatebrushingmyteethagain,butit’sonlybeentwentyminutessinceIlastbrushedthem.
Icheckmyhairinthemirror,thenopenmybedroomdoorandwalkasquietlyasIcanintothekitchen.
WhenIroundthecorner,Iseehim.Allofhim.He’sleaningagainstthebar,facingme,almostlikehewasexpectingme.
God,Ihatethat.
Ipretendit’sjustacoincidencethatweendeduphereatthesametime,eventhoughit’smidnight.“Can’tsleep?”Iwalkpasthimtotherefrigeratorandreachfortheorangejuice.Itakeitout,pourmyselfaglass,thenleanagainstthecounteracrossfromhim.He’swatchingme,buthedoesn’tanswermyquestion.
“Areyousleepwalking?”
Hesmiles,soakingmeupfromheadtotoewithhiseyeslikeasponge.“Youreallyloveorangejuice,”hesays,amused.
Ilookdownatmyglass,thenbackuptohim,andshrug.Hetakesasteptowardmeandmotionsfortheglass.Ihandittohim,andhebringsittohislips,takesaslowsip,andhandsitbacktome.Allthesemovementsarecompletedwithouthiseverbreakingeyecontactwithme.
Well,Idefinitelyloveorangejuicenow.
“Iloveit,too,”hesays,eventhoughIneveransweredhim.
Isettheglassdownbesideme,griptheedgesofthecounter,andpushmyselfupuntilI’mseatedonit.Ipretendheisn’tinvadingmyentirebeing,buthe’sstilleverywhere.Fillingthekitchen.
Theentirehouse
It’swaytooquiet.Idecidetomakethefirstmove.
“Hasitreallybeensixyearssinceyou’vehadagirlfriend?”
Henodswithouthesitation,andI’mbothshockedandextremelypleasedbythatanswer.I’mnotsurewhyIlikeit.Iguessit’sjustsomuchbetterthanwhatIwasimagininghislifewaslike.
“Wow.Haveyouatleast…”Idon’tknowhowtofinishthissentence.
“Hadsex?”heinterjects.
I’mgladtheonlylightonistheoneoverthekitchenstove,becauseI’mabsolutelyblushingrightnow.
“Noteveryonewantsthesamethingsoutoflife,”hesays.Hisvoiceissoft,likeadowncomforter.Iwanttorollaroundinit,wrapmyselfupinthatvoice.
“Everyonewantslove,”Isay.“Oratleastsex.It’shumannature.”
Ican’tbelievewe’rehavingthisconversation.
Hefoldshisarmsacrosshischest.Hisfeetcrossattheankles.I’venoticedthisishisformofpersonalarmor.He’sputtinguphisinvisibleshieldagain,guardinghimselffromgivingtoomuchaway.
“Mostpeoplecan’thaveonewithouttheother,”hesays.“SoIfinditeasiertojustgiveupboth.”He’sstudyingme,gaugingmyreactiontohiswords.Idomybestnottogivehimone.
“Sowhichofthetwodoyounotwant,Miles?”Myvoiceisembarrassinglyweak.“Loveorsex?”
Hiseyesremainthesame,buthismouthchanges.Hislipscurlupintoabarelytheresmile.“Ithinkyoualreadyknowtheanswertothat,Tate.”
Wow.
Iblowoutacontrolledbreath,notevencaringifheknowsthosewordsaffectedmeliketheydid.Thewayhesaysmynamemakesmefeeljustasflusteredashiskissdid.Icrossmylegsattheknees,hopinghedoesn’tnoticeit’smyownpersonalarmor.
Hiseyesdroptomylegs,andIwatchhimsoftlyinhale.
Sixyears.Unbelievable.
Ilookdownatmylegs,too.Iwanttoaskhimanotherquestion,butIcan’tlookathimwhenIaskit.“Howlonghasitbeensinceyoukissedagirl?”
“Eighthours,”hereplieswithouthesitation.Iraisemyeyestohis,andhegrins,becauseheknowswhatI’maskinghim.“Thesame,”heuttersquietly.“Sixyears.”
Idon’tknowwhathappenstome,butsomethingchanges.Somethingmelts.SomethinghardorcoldorcoveredinmyownpersonalarmoristurningtoliquidnowthatI’mrealizingwhatthatkissreallymeant.IfeellikeI’mnothingbutliquid,andliquiddoesn’tdoagoodjobofstandingorwalkingaway,soIdon’tmove.
“Areyoukiddingme?”Iask,disbelievingly.
Ithinkhe’stheoneblushingnow.
I’msoconfused.Idon’tunderstandhowI’vepeggedhimsowrongorhowwhathe’ssayingisevenpossible.He’sgood–looking.Hehasagreatjob.Hedefinitelyknowshowtokiss,sowhyhasn’thebeendoingit?
“What’syourdeal,then?”Iaskhim.“YouhaveSTDs?”It’sthenurseinme.Ihavenomedicalfilter.
Helaughs.“Prettydamnclean,”hesays.Hestilldoesn’texplainhimself,though.
“Ifit’sbeensixyearssinceyoukissedagirl,thenwhydidyoukissme?Iwasundertheimpressionyoudidn’tevenreallylikeme.You’rereallyhardtoread.”
Hedoesn’taskmewhyI’mundertheimpressionthathedoesn’tlikeme.
Ithinkifit’sobvioustomethathe’sdifferentwhenhe’saroundme,it’sbeenintentionalonhispart.
“It’snotthatIdon’tlikeyou,Tate.”Hesighsheavilyandrunshishandsthroughhishair,grippingthebackofhisneck.“Ijustdon’twanttolikeyou.Idon’twanttolikeanyone.Idon’twanttodateanyone.Idon’twanttoloveanyone.Ijust…”Hefoldshisarmsbackacrosshischestandlooksdownatthefloor.
“Youjustwhat?”Iask,urginghimtofinishthatsentence.Hiseyesslowlyliftbacktomine,andittakesallIhavetostayseatedonthiscounterwiththewayhe’slookingatmerightnow—likeI’mThanksgivingdinner.
“I’mattractedtoyou,Tate,”hesays,hisvoicelow.“Iwantyou,butIwantyouwithoutanyofthatotherstuff.”
Ihavenothoughtsleft.
Brain=Liquid.
Heart=Butter.
Icanstillsigh,though,soIdo.
IwaituntilIcanthinkagain.ThenIthinkalot.
Hejustadmittedthathewantstohavesexwithme;hejustdoesn’twantittoleadtoanything.Idon’tknowwhythisflattersme.Itshouldmakemewanttopunchhim,butthefactthathechosetokissmeafternothavingkissedanyoneforsixstraightyearsmakesthisnewconfessionseemlikeIjustwonaPulitzer.
We’restaringateachotheragain,andhelooksalittlebitnervous.I’msurehe’swonderingifhejustpissedmeoff.Idon’twanthimtothinkthat,because,honestly,Iwanttoyell“Iwon!”atthetopofmylungs.
Ihavenoideawhattosay.We’vehadthestrangestandmostawkwardconversationssinceImethim,andthisonedefinitelytakesthecake.
“Ourconversationsaresoweird,”Isay.
Helaughswithrelief.“Yes.”
Thewordyesissomuchmorebeautifulcomingfromhismouth,lacedwiththatvoice.Hecouldprobablymakeanywordbeautiful.ItrytothinkofawordIhate.Ikindofhatethewordox.It’sanuglyword.Tooshortandclipped.Iwonderifhisvoicecouldmakemelovethatword.
“Saythewordox.”
Hiseyebrowrises,likehe’swonderingifheheardmeright.HethinksI’mweird.
Idon’tcare.
“Justsayit,”Itellhim.
“Ox,”hesays,withslighthesitation
Ismile.Ilovethewordox.It’smynewfavoriteword.
“You’resoweird,”hesays,amused.
Iuncrossmylegs.Henotices.“So,Miles,”Isay.“LetmeseeifI’vegotthisstraight.Youhaven’thadsexinsixyears.Youhaven’thadagirlfriendinsixyears.Youhaven’tkissedagirlineighthours.Youdon’tlikerelationships,obviously.Orlove.Butyou’reaguy.Guyshaveneeds.”
He’swatchingme,stillamused.“Goon,”hesayswiththatunintentionallysexysmirk.
“Youdon’twanttobeattractedtome,butyouare.Youwanttohavesexwithme,butyoudon’twanttodateme.Youalsodon’twanttoloveme.Youalsodon’twantmetowanttoloveyou.”
I’mstillamusinghim.He’sstillsmiling.“Ididn’trealizeIwassotransparent.”
You’renot,Miles.Believeme.
“Ifwedothis,Ithinkweshouldtakeitslow,”Isayteasingly.“Idon’twanttopressureyouintoanythingyouaren’treadyfor.You’repracticallyavirgin.”
Heloseshissmileandtakesthreedeliberatelyslowstepstowardme.Istopsmiling,becauseheisseriouslyintimidating.Whenhereachesme,heplaceshishandsoneithersideofme,thenleansinclosetomyneck.“It’sbeensixyears,Tate.BelievemewhenItellyou…I’mready.”
Thosealljustbecamemynewfavoritewords,too.BelieveandmeandwhenandIandtellandyouandI’mandready
Favorites.Allofthem.
HepullsbackandcanmorethanlikelytellI’mnotbreathingatthemoment.Hestepsbacktohisspotoppositefromme.He’sshakinghisheadlikehecan’tbelievewhatjusthappened.“Ican’tbelieveIjustaskedyouforsex.Whatkindofguydoesthat?”
Iswallow.“Prettymuchallofthem.”
Helaughs,butIcantellhefeelsguilty.Maybehe’safraidIcan’thandlethis.Hemightberight,butI’mnotabouttolethimknowthat.IfhethinksIcan’thandlethis,he’llretracteverythinghe’ssaying.Ifheretractseverythinghe’ssaying,thatmeansIdon’tgettoexperienceanotherkissliketheonehegavemeearlier.
I’dagreetoanythingifitmeansIgettobekissedbyhimagain.EspeciallyifitmeansIgettoexperiencemorethanjusthiskiss.
Simplythinkingaboutitmakesmythroatdry.IpickupmyglassandtakeanotherslowsipofmyjuicewhileIsilentlyworkthisoutinmyhead.
Hewantsmeforsex.
Ikindofmisssex.It’sbeenawhile.
IknowI’mdefinitelyattractedtohimandcan’tthinkofanyoneelseinmylifeI’dratherhavecasual,meaninglesssexwiththanmyairlinepilot,laundry-foldingneighbor.
Isetthecupofjuicebackdown,thenpressmypalmsintothecounterandleanslightlyforward.“Listentome,Miles.You’resingle.I’msingle.Youworkwaytoomuch,andI’mfocusedonmycareerinanalmostunhealthyway.Evenifwewantedarelationshipoutofthis,itwouldneverwork.Ourliveswouldn’tfitone.Wealsoaren’treallyfriends,sowedon’thavetoworryaboutourfriendshipbeingruined.Youwanttohavesexwithme?I’lltotallyletyou.Alot.”
He’swatchingmymouthlikeallmywordsjustbecamehisnewfavoritewords.“Alot?”heasks.
Inod.“Yes.Alot.”
Helooksmeintheeyeswithachallengingstare.“Okay,”hesays,almostlikeit’sadare.
“Okay.”
We’restillseveralfeetapart.IjusttoldthisguyIwouldhavesexwithhimwithoutanyexpectations,andhe’sstillwayoverthere,andI’mwayoverhere,andit’sbecomingclearthatIdefinitelyhadhimpeggedwrong.He’smorenervousthanIam.AlthoughIthinkournervesstemfromtwodifferentplaces.He’snervousbecausehedoesn’twantthistoturnintoanything.
I’mnervousbecauseI’mnotsosurethatjustsexwithhimispossible.BasedonthewayI’mdrawntohim,Ihaveaprettygoodfeelingsexwillbetheleastofourproblems.YethereIsit,pretendingtobefinewithjustsex.Maybeifitstartsoutthisway,it’lleventuallyendupbeingsomethingmore.
“Well,wecan’thavesexrightnow,”hesays.
Dammit.
“Whynot?”
“TheonlycondomIhaveinmywallethasprobablydisintegratedbynow.”
Ilaugh.Ilovehisself-deprecatinghumor.
“Idowanttokissyouagain,though,”hesayswithahopefulsmile.
I’mactuallysurprisedheisn’tkissingme.“Sure.”
HeslowlywalksbacktowhereI’mseated,untilmykneesareoneithersideofhiswaist.I’mwatchinghiseyes,becausethey’relookingatmelikehe’swaitingformetochangemymind.I’mnotchangingmymind.Iprobablywantthismorethanhewantsthis.
Hebringshishandsupandslidesthemthroughmyhair,brushinghisthumbsacrossmycheeks.Heinhalesashakybreathwhilelookingdownatmymouth.“Youmakeitsohardtobreathe.”
Hepunctuateshissentencewithhiskiss,bringinghislipsovermine.Everyremainingpartofmethathadyettomeltinhispresenceisnowliquefiedliketherestofme.Itrytorecallatimewhenaman’smouthfeltthisgoodagainstmine.Histongueslidesacrossmylips,thendipsinside,tastingme,fillingme,claimingme.
Oh…my.
I.
Love.
His.
Mouth.
ItiltmyheadsoIcantastemoreofit.Hetiltshistotastemoreofmine.Histonguehasagreatmemory,becauseitknowsexactlyhowtodothis.Hedropshisinjuredhandandrestsitonmythigh,whilehisotherhandgripsthebackofmyhead,crushingourlipstogether.Myhandsnolongerhaveholdofhisshirt.They’reexploringhisarms,hisneck,hisback,hishair.
Imoansoftly,andthesoundcauseshimtopressintome,pullingmeseveralinchesclosertotheedgeofthebar.
“Well,you’redefinitelynotgay,”someonesaysfrombehindus.
Oh,myGod.
Dad.
Dad!
Shit.
Miles.Pullingaway.
Me.Jumpingoffthebar.
Dad.Walkingpastus.
Heopenstherefrigeratorandgrabsabottleofwater,likehewalksinonhisdaughterbeingfeltupbyhishouseguesteverysinglenight.Heturnsaroundandfacesus,thentakesalongdrink.Whenhe’sfinished,heputsthelidbackonthebottleofwaterandputsitbackinthefridge.Heclosestherefrigeratorandwalkstowardus,passingbetweenus,puttingevenmorespacethere.
“Gotobed,Tate,”hesaysasheexitsthekitchen.
Icovermymouthwithmyhand.Milescovershisfacewithhis.We’rebothcompletelymortified.HemoresothanI,I’msure.
“Weshouldgotosleep,”hesays.
Iagreewithhim.
Wewalkoutofthekitchenwithouttouching.Wereachmybedroomdoorfirst,soIpauseandturnaroundandfacehim.Hepauses,too.
Helookstohisleft,thenbrieflytohisright,tomakesurewe’realoneinthehallway.Hetakesastepforwardandstealsanotherkiss.Mybackmeetsmybedroomdoor,buthe’ssomehowabletopullhismouthaway.
“Yousurethisisokay?”heasks,searchingmyeyesfordoubt.
Idon’tknowifthisisokay.Itfeelsgood,andhetastesgood,andIcan’tthinkofanythingIwantmorethanbeingwithhim.However,thereasonsbehindhissixyearsofabstinencearewhatI’mconcernedabout.
“Youworrytoomuch,”Isaywithaforcedsmile.“Wouldithelpifwehadrules?”
Hestudiesmequietlybeforetakingastepback.“Itmight,”hesays.“Icanonlythinkoftworightnow.”
“Whatarethey?”
Hiseyesfocusonmineforseveralseconds.“Don’taskaboutmypast,”hesaysfirmly.“Andneverexpectafuture.”
Iabsolutelydon’tlikeeitherofthoserules.Theybothmakemewanttochangemymindaboutthisarrangementandturnandrunaway,butinstead,I’mnodding.I’mnoddingbecauseI’lltakewhatIcanget.I’mnotTatewhenI’mnearMiles.I’mliquid,andliquiddoesn’tknowhowtobefirmorstandupforitself.Liquidflows.That’sallIwanttodowithMiles.
Flow.
“Well,Ionlyhaveonerule,”Isayquietly.Hewaitsformyrule.Ican’tthinkofarule.Idon’thaveanyrules.Whydon’tIhaverules?He’sstillwaiting.“Idon’tknowwhatitisyet.ButwhenIthinkofit,youhavetofollowit.”
Mileslaughs.Heleansforwardandkissesmeontheforehead,thenwalkstowardhisroom.Heopensthedoorbutglancesbackatmeforabriefsecondbeforedisappearingintotheroom.
I’mnotpositive,butI’mprettysuretheexpressionIjustsawonhisfacewasfear.IjustwishIknewwhathewasscaredof,becauseLordknowsIknowexactlywhatI’mafraidof.
I’mafraidofhowthisisgoingtoendchapterten
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
Ianknows.
Ihadtotellhim.Afterthefirstweekofschool,hekneweverythingbecameRachel.
RachelknowsIanknows.Rachelknowshewon’tsayanything.
IgiveRachelmyroomwhenshemovesin,andItakethesparebedroom.Myroomistheonlysparebedroomwithitsownbathroom.IwantRacheltohavethebetterroom.
“Doyouwantthisboxinhere?”IanasksRachel.Rachelaskswhatitis,andhetellsherit’sallherbrasandunderwear.“IthoughtmaybeIshouldjustgoaheadandputitinMiles’sroom.”
RachelrollshereyesatIan.“Hush,”shetellshim.Helaughs.Helikesthathe’sinonsuchaprivatething.That’swhyhewouldnevertell.Heknowsthepowerofsecrets.
Ianleavesafteralltheboxesareunloaded.Myfatherpassesmeinthehallwayandpauses.HispausemeansIshouldpause,too.
“Thankyou,Miles.”
HethinksI’mokaywiththis.Withthefactthathe’sallowinganotherwomantopushoutthelastremindersofmymother.
I’mnotokaywithit.
I’mjustpretendingtobeokaywithit,becausenoneofitmatters.Rachelmatters.
Nothim.
“Noproblem,”Isay.
Hebeginswalking,thenpausesagain.HetellsmeheappreciatesthatI’mbeingnicetoRachel.HesayshewishesheandMomcouldhavegivenmeasiblingwhenIwasyounger.HesaysImakeagoodbrother.
Wordsareawfulwhentheycomeoutofhismouth.
IwalkbacktoRachel’sroom.Iclosethedoor.
It’sjustthetwoofus.
Wesmile.
Iwalktoherandwrapmyarmsaroundher,thenIkissherneck.It’sbeenthreeweekssincethefirstnightIkissedher.IcancountthetimesI’vekissedhersincethen.Wecan’tinteractlikethisatschool.Wecan’tinteractlikethisinpublic.Wecan’tinteractlikethisinfrontofourparents.Icanonlytouchherwhenwe’realone,andwehaven’tbeenabletobealonemuchinthelastthreeweeks.
Now?
NowIkissher.
“Weneedafewguidelinessowedon’tgetourselvesintrouble,”shesays.Sheseparatesherselffromme.Shesitsatmydesk,andIsitonmybed.
Well…shesitsatherdesk,andIsitonherbed.
“First,”shesays,“nomakingoutwhenthey’rehome.It’stoorisky.”
Idon’twanttoagreetothatrule,butI’mnoddingmyhead.
“Second,nosex.”
I’mnotnoddinganymore.
“Ever?”Iaskher.
She’snodding.Oh,Ireallyhatethatnod.
“Why?”
Shesighsheavily.“Sexwillmakeitthatmuchharderwhenourtimeisup.Youknowthat.”
She’sright.She’salsocompletelywrong,butIhaveafeelingshe’llfigurethatoutlater.
“CanIaskwhatrulenumberthreeisbeforeIagreetorulenumbertwo?”
Shegrins.“Thereisnorulenumberthree.”
Igrin.“Sosexistheonlythingofflimits?Andwe’retalkingpenetration,right?Notoral?”
Shecoversherfacewithherhands.“Oh,myGod,doyouhavetogetsospecific?”
She’scutewhenshe’sembarrassed.“Justclarifying.IhavealifetimeofthingsIwanttodotoyouandonlysixmonthslefttodothemall.”
“Let’sleavethespecificsuptothesituation,”shesays.
“Fairenough,”Isay,admiringtheblushinhercheeks.“Rachel?Areyouavirgin?”
Hercheeksgrowevenredder.Sheshakesherheadandtellsmeno.Sheasksifthatbothersme.
“Notatall,”Isay,beinghonest.
SheasksifI’mavirgin,buthervoiceistimidwhensheasksit.
“No,”Isay.“ButnowthatI’vemetyou,IkindofwishIwas.”
ShelikesthatIsaidthistoher.
Istandupandpreparetoheadtomynewbedroomtobeginrearranging.BeforeIwalkout,Ilockherbedroomdoorfromtheinside,andthenIturnaroundandsmileather.
Islowlywalktoher.
Itakeherbythehandsandpullherup.Iwrapmyarmaroundherlowerbackandpullheragainstme.
Ikissher.chaptereleven
TATE
“Ihavetopee.”
Corbingroans.“Again?”
“Ihaven’tbeenintwohours,”Isaydefensively.
Ireallydon’thavetousethebathroom,butIdoneedtogetoutofthiscar.AftertheconversationIhadwithMileslastnight,thecarfeelsdifferentwithhiminit.Itfeelslikethere’smoreofhim,andeveryminutethatpassesandhe’snottalking,I’mwonderingwhat’sgoingthroughhishead.I’mwonderingifheregretsourconversation.I’mwonderingifhe’sgoingtopretenditneverhappened.
Iwishmydadwouldhavepretendeditneverhappened.Beforeweleftthismorning,IwasseatedatthekitchentablewithhimwhenMileswalkedin.
“Sleepwell,Miles?”heaskedasMilestookaseatatthetable.
Ithoughthewasgoingtoflushwithembarrassment,butinstead,heregardedmydadwithashakeofhishead.“Nottoowell,”Milesreplied.“Yoursontalksinhissleep.”
MyfatherpickeduphisglassandlifteditinMiles’sdirection.“GoodtoknowyouwereintheroomwithCorbinlastnight.”
Luckily,Corbinhadyettositdownandhearthatcommentfrommyfather.Mileswasquietthroughtherestofbreakfast,andtheonlytimeInoticedhimspeakingafterthatwaswhenCorbinandIwerebothinthecar.Milessteppedovertomyfatherandshookhishand,sayingsomethingthatonlymyfathercouldhear.Itriedtoreadmyfather’sexpression,buthekeptatightlidonit.MyfatherisalmostasgoodathidinghisthoughtsasMilesis.
IreallywanttoknowwhatMilessaidtomyfatherthismorningbeforeweleft
IalsowanttoknowaboutadozenotheranswerstoquestionsIhaveaboutMiles.
Whenwewereyounger,CorbinandIalwaysagreedthatifwecouldhaveanysuperpower,itwouldbetheabilitytofly.NowthatIknowMiles,I’vechangedmymind.IfIhadasuperpower,itwouldbeinfiltration.IwouldinfiltratehismindsoIcouldseeeverysingleoneofhisthoughts.
Iwouldinfiltratehisheartandspreadmyselfaroundlikeavirus.
IwouldcallmyselftheInfiltrator.
Yeah.Thathasaniceringtoit.
“Gopee,”Corbinsayswithagitationasheputsthecarinpark.
IwishIwereinhighschoolagainsoIcouldcallhimabutt-hole.Adultsdon’tcalltheirbrothersbuttholes,though.
IgetoutofthecarandfeelalittlemorelikeIcanbreatheagain,untilMilesopenshisdoorandstepsoutofthecarandintotheworld.NowMilesseemsevenbigger,andmylungsseemsmaller.Wewalktogetherintothegasstation,butwedon’tspeak.
It’sfunnyhowthatworks.Sometimesnotspeakingsaysmorethanallthewordsintheworld.Sometimesmysilenceissaying,Idon’tknowhowtospeaktoyou.Idon’tknowwhatyou’rethinking.Talktome.Tellmeeverythingyou’veeversaid.Allthewords.Startingfromyourveryfirstone.
Iwonderwhathissilenceissaying.
Oncewe’reinside,hespotsthesignforthebathroomsfirst,sohenodshisheadandstepsinfrontofme.Heleads.Ilethim.Becausehe’sasolidandI’maliquid,andrightnow,I’mjusthiswake.
Whenwereachthebathrooms,hewalksintothemen’srestroomwithoutpause.Hedoesn’tturnandlookatme.Hedoesn’twaitformetowalkintothewomen’sfirst.Ipushthedooropen,butIdon’tneedtousetherestroom.Ijustwantedtobreathe,buthe’snotlettingme.He’sinvading.Idon’tthinkhemeansto.He’sjustinvadingmythoughtsandmystomachandmylungsandmyworld.
That’shissuperpower.Invasion.
TheInvaderandtheInfiltrator.Theyprettymuchhavethesamemeaning,soIguesswemakeonescrewed-upteam.
IwashmyhandsandwasteenoughtimetomakeitseemlikeIactuallyneededCorbintostophere.Iopenthedoortothebathroom,andhe’sinvadingagain.He’sinmyway,standinginfrontofthedoorwaythatI’mtryingtoexit.
Hedoesn’tmove,eventhoughhe’sinvading.Idon’treallywanthimto,though,soIlethimstay.
“Youwantsomethingtodrink?”heasks.
Ishakemyhead.“Ihavewaterinthecar.”
“Hungry?”
ItellhimI’mnot.HeseemsslightlydisappointedthatIdon’twantanything.Maybehedoesn’twanttogobacktothecaryet.
“Imightwantsomecandy,though,”Isay.
Oneofhisrareandtreasuredsmilesslowlyappears.“I’llbuyyousomecandy,then.”
Heturnsandwalkstowardthecandyaisle.Istopnexttohimandlookatmyoptions.Westareatthecandyforwaytoolong.Idon’tevenreallywantany,butwebothstareatitanywayandpretendwedo.
“Thisisweird,”Iwhisper.
“What’sweird?”heasks.“Pickingoutcandyorhavingtopretendwedon’tbothwanttobeinthebackseatrightnow?”
Wow.IfeellikeIreallydidinfiltratehisthoughtssomehow.Onlytheywerewordsthathewillinglyspoke.Wordsthatmademefeelreallygood.
“Both,”Isaysteadily.Iturntofacehim.“Doyousmoke?”
Hegivesmethelookagain.ThelookthattellsmeI’mweird.
Idon’tcare.
“Nope,”herepliescasually.
“Rememberthosecandycigarettestheysoldwhenwewerekids?”
“Yeah,”hesays.“Kindofmorbid,ifyouthinkaboutit.”
Inod.“CorbinandIusedtogetthoseallthetime.There’snowayinhellI’dletmychildbuythosethings.”
“Idoubttheymakethemanymore,”Milessays.
Wefacethecandyagain.
“Doyou?”heasks.
“DoIwhat?”
“Smoke.”
Ishakemyhead.“Nope.”
“Good,”hesays.Westareatthecandyalittlebitlonger.Heturnstofaceme,andIglanceupathim.“Doyouevenwantanycandy,Tate?”
“Nope.”
Helaughs.“ThenIguessweshouldgetbacktothecar.”
Iagreewithhim,butneitherofusmoves.
Hereachesdowntomyhandandtouchesitsosoftlyit’sasifhe’sawarehe’smadeoflavaandI’mnot.Hegripstwoofmyfingers,notevencomingclosetoholdingmyentirehand,andgivesthemasofttug
“Wait,”Isaytohim,tuggingbackonhishand.Heglancesatmeoverhisshoulderandthenturnstofacemecompletely.“Whatdidyousaytomyfatherthismorning?Beforeweleft?”
Hisfingerstightenaroundmine,andhisexpressiondoesn’tdeviatefromthepoignantlookhe’sperfected.“Iapologizedtohim.”
Heturnstowardthedooronceagain,andIfollowhimthistime.Hedoesn’treleasemyhanduntilwe’reclosetotheexit.Whenhefinallydoesletmyhandfall,Ievaporateagain.
IfollowhimtowardthecarandhopeIdon’treallybelieveI’mcapableofinfiltration.Iremindmyselfhe’smadeofarmor.He’simpenetrable.
Idon’tknowifIcandothis,Miles.Idon’tknowifIcanfollowrulenumbertwo,becauseIsuddenlywanttoclimbintoyourfuturemorethanIwanttoclimbintothebackseatwithyou.
“Longline,”MilessaystoCorbinoncewe’rebothinsidethecar.Corbinputsthecarindriveandchangestheradiostation.Hedoesn’tcarehowlongthelinewas.Hewasn’tsuspicious,orhewouldhavesaidsomething.Besides,there’snothingtobesuspiciousofyet.
WedriveforagoodfifteenminutesbeforeIrealizeI’mnotthinkingaboutMilesanymore.Forthelastfifteenminutesofthedrive,mythoughtshavejustbeenmemories.
“Rememberwhenwewerekidsandwewishedoursuperpowercouldbetofly?”
“Yeah,Iremember,”Corbinsays.
“Youhaveyoursuperpowernow.Youcanfly.”
Corbinsmilesatmeintherearviewmirror.“Yeah,”hesays.“Iguessthatmakesmeasuperhero.”
Ileanbackintheseatandstareoutthewindow,alittleenviousofbothofthem.Enviousofthethingsthey’veseen.Theplacesthey’vetraveled.“What’sitlike,watchingthesunrisefromupintheair?”
Corbinshrugs.“Idon’treallylookatit,”hesays.“I’mtoobusyworkingwhenI’mupthere.”
Thismakesmesad.Don’ttakeitforgranted,Corbin.
“Ilook,”Milessays.He’sstaringouthiswindow,andhisvoiceissoquietIalmostdon’thearit.“EverytimeI’mupthere,Iwatchit.”
Hedoesn’tsaywhatit’slike,though.Hisvoiceisdistant,likehewantstokeepthatfeelingtohimself.Ilethim.
“Youbendthelawsoftheuniversewhenyoufly,”Isay.“It’simpressive.Defyinggravity?WatchingsunrisesandsunsetsfromplacesMotherNaturedidn’tintendforyoutowatchthemfrom?Youreallyaresuperheroes,ifyouthinkaboutit.”
Corbinglancesatmeintherearviewmirrorandlaughs.Don’ttakeitforgranted,Corbin.Milesisn’tlaughing,though.He’sstillstaringouthiswindow.
“Yousavelives,”Milessaystome.“That’swaymoreimpressive.”
Myheartabsorbsthosewordsonimpact.
Rulenumbertwoisnotlookinggoodfrombackhere.chaptertwelve
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
Rulenumberoneofnofoolingaroundwhileourparentsarehomehasbeenamended.
Itnowconsistsofmakingoutbutonlywhenwe’rebehindalockeddoor.
Rulenumbertwostandsfirm,unfortunately.Stillnosex.
Andarulenumberthreewasrecentlyadded:nosneakingaroundatnight.LisastillchecksonRachelinthemiddleofthenightsometimes,onlybecauseLisaisthemotherofateenagedaughterandit’stherightthingtodo.
ButIhatethatshedoesit.
We’vemadeitanentiremonthinthesamehouse.Wedon’ttalkaboutthefactthattherearejustalittlemorethanfivemonthsleft.Wedon’ttalkaboutwhatwillhappenwhenmyfathermarrieshermother.Wedon’ttalkaboutthefactthatwhenthishappens,we’llbeconnectedformuchlongerthanfivemonths.
Holidays.
Weekendvisits.
Reunions.
We’llbothhavetoattendeveryfunction,butwe’llbeattendingasfamily.
Wedon’ttalkaboutthat,becauseitmakesusfeellikewhatwe’redoingiswrong.
Wealsodon’ttalkaboutitbecauseit’shard.WhenIthinkaboutthedayshemovestoMichiganandIstayinSanFrancisco,Ican’tseebeyondthat.Ican’tseeanythingwhereshewon’tbemyeverything.
“We’llbebackSunday,”hesays.
“You’llhavethehousetoyourself.Rachelisstayingwithafriend.YoushouldinviteIanover.”
“Idid,”Ilie.
Rachellied,too.Rachelwillbehereallweekend.Wedon’twanttogivethemanyreasontosuspectus.It’shardenoughtryingtoignoreherinfrontofthem.It’shardpretendingIhavenothingincommonwithher,whenIwanttolaughateverythingshesays.Iwanttohigh-fiveeverythingshedoes.Iwanttobragtomyfatheraboutherintelligence,hergoodgrades,herkindness,herquick-wittedness.IwanttotellhimIhavethisreallyamazinggirlfriendwhomIwanthimtomeetbecausehewouldabsolutelyloveher.
Hedoesloveher.JustnotinthewayIwishhelovedher.
Iwanthimtoloveherforme.
Wetellourparentsgood-bye.LisatellsRacheltobehave,butLisaisn’treallyworried.AsfarasLisaknows,Rachelisgood.Rachelbehaves.Racheldoesn’tbreakrules.
Exceptrulenumberthree.Rachelisdefinitelybreakingrulenumberthreethisweekend.
Weplayhouse.
Wepretendit’sours.Wepretendit’sourkitchen,andshecooksforme.Ipretendshe’smine,andIfollowheraroundwhileshecooks,holdingontoher.Touchingher.Kissingherneck.Pullingherawayfromthetasksshe’stryingtocompletesoIcanfeelheragainstme.Shelikesit,butshepretendsnotto.
Whenwe’refinishedeating,shesitswithmeonthecouch.Weputonamovie,butitdoesn’tgetwatchedatall.Wecan’tstopkissing.Wekisssomuchourlipshurt.Ourhandshurt.Ourstomachshurt,becauseourbodieswanttobreakrulenumbertwoso,sobad.
It’sgonnabealongweekend.
IdecideIneedashower,orI’llbebeggingforanamendmenttorulenumbertwo.
Itakeashowerinherbathroom.Ilikethisshower.IlikeitmorethanIlikeditbackwhenitwasjustmyshower.Ilikeseeingherthingsinhere.Ilikelookingatherrazorandimaginingwhatshelookslikewhensheusesit.Ilikelookingathershampoobottlesandthinkingaboutherwithherheadtiltedbackbeneaththestreamofwaterassherinsesitoutofherhair.
Ilovethatmyshowerishershower,too.
“Miles?”shesays.She’sknocking,butshe’salreadyinsidethebathroom.Thewaterishotonmyskin,buthervoicejustmadeitevenhotter.Iopentheshowercurtain.MaybeIopenittoofarbecauseIwanthertowanttobreakrulenumbertwo.
Sheinhalesasoftbreath,buthereyesfallwhereIwantthemto.
“Rachel,”Isay,grinningattheembarrassedlookonherface.Shelooksmeintheeyes.
Shewantstotakeashowerwithme.She’sjusttooshytoask.
“Getin,”Isay.
Myvoiceishoarse,likeI’vebeenscreaming.
Myvoicewasfinefivesecondsago.
Iclosetheshowercurtaintohidewhatshe’sdoingtomebutalsotogiveherprivacywhilesheundresses.Ihaven’tseenherwithoutherclotheson.I’vefeltwhat’sunderneaththem.
I’msuddenlynervous.
Sheturnsthelightoff.
“Isthatfine?”sheaskstimidly.Isayitis,butIwishsheweremoreconfident.Ineedtomakehermoreconfident.
Sheopenstheshowercurtain,andIseeoneofherlegsmakeitswayinfirst.Iswallowwhentherestofherbodyfollows.Luckily,there’sjustenoughlightfromthenight-lighttocastafaintglowoverher.
Icanseeherenough.
Icanseeherperfectly.
Hereyeslockwithmineagain.Shestepsclosertome.Iwonderifshe’seversharedashowerwithanyonebefore,butIdon’taskher.Itakeasteptowardherthistime,becausesheseemsscared.Idon’twanthertobescared.
I’mscared.
Itouchhershouldersandguidehersothatshe’sstandingunderthewater.Idon’tpressmyselfagainsther,eventhoughIneedto.Ikeepdistancebetweenus.
Ihaveto.
Theonlythingsthatconnectareourmouths.Ikisshersoftly,barelytouchingherlips,butithurtssobad.Ithurtsworsethananyotherkisswe’veshared.Kisseswhereourmouthscollide.Ourteethcollide.Frantickissesthataresorushedthey’resloppy.Kissesthatendwithmebitingherliporherbitingmine.
Noneofthosekisseshurtlikethisonedoes,andIcan’ttellwhythisoneishurtingsomuch.
Ihavetopullback.Itellhertogivemeaminute,andshenods,thenrestshercheekagainstmychest.IleanbackagainstthewallandpullherwithmewhileIkeepmyeyesclosedtightly.
ThewordsareonceagainattemptingtobreakthebarrierI’vebuiltuparoundthem.EverytimeI’mwithher,theywanttocomeout,butIworkandworktocementthewallthatsurroundsthem.Shedoesn’tneedtohearthem.
Idon’tneedtosaythem.
Butthey’repoundingonthewalls.Theyalwayspoundsoharduntilallourkissesenduplikethis.Meneedingaminuteandhergivingmeone.Theyneedoutnowworsethaneverbefore.Theyneedair.They’redemandingtobeheard.
There’sonlysomuchpoundingIcantakebeforethewallscollapse.
Thereareonlysomanytimesmylipscantouchherswithoutthewordsspillingoverthewalls,breakingthroughthecracks,travelingupmychestuntilI’mholdingherface,lookingintohereyes,allowingthemtoteardownallthebarriersthatstandbetweenusandtheinevitableheartbreak.
Thewordscomeanyway.
“Ican’tseeanything,”Itellher.
Iknowshedoesn’tknowwhatI’mtalkingabout.Idon’twanttoelaborate,butthewordscomeanyway.They’vetakenover.
“WhenyoumovetoMichiganandIstayinSanFran?Idon’tseeanythingafterthat.IusedtoseewhateverfutureIwanted,butnowIdon’tseeanything.”
Ikissthetearthat’srunningdownhercheek.
“Ican’tdothis,”Itellher.“TheonlythingIwanttoseeisyou,andifIcan’thavethat…nothingelseisevenworthit.Youmakeitbetter,Rachel.Everything.”Ikissherhardonthemouth,anditdoesn’thurtatallthistime,nowthatthewordsarefree.“Iloveyou,”Itellher,freeingmyselfcompletely.
Ikissheragain,notevengivingherthechancetorespond.Idon’tneedtohearhersaythewordstomeuntilshe’sready,andIdon’twanttohearhertellmethatthewayIfeeliswrong.
Herhandsareonmyback,tugging,pullingmecloser.Herlegsarewrappingaroundminelikeshe’stryingtoembedherselfinsideme.
Shealreadyhas.
It’sfranticagain.Teeth-crashing,lip-biting,hurried,rushed,panting,touching.
She’smoaning,andIcanfeelhertryingtopullfrommymouth,butmyhandiswrappedinherhair,andI’mcoveringhermouthdesperately,hopingshe’llneverbreakforbreath.
Shemakesmereleaseher.
Idropmyforeheadtohers,gaspinginanefforttokeepmyemotionsfromspillingovertheedge.
“Miles,”shesaysbreathlessly.“Miles,Iloveyou.I’msoscared.Idon’twantustoend.”
Youloveme,Rachel.
Ipullbackandlookherintheeyes.
She’scrying.
Idon’twanthertobescared.Itellherit’llbeokay.Itellherwe’llwaituntilwegraduate,thenwe’lltellthem.Itellherthey’llhavetobeokaywithit.Oncewe’reoutofthehouse,everythingwillbedifferent.Everythingwillbegood.They’llhavetounderstand.
Itellherwe’vegotthis.
Shenodsfeverishly.
“We’vegotthis,”sherespondsback,agreeingwithme.
Ipressmyforeheadtohers.“We’vegotthis,Rachel,”Itellher.“Ican’tquityounow.Noway.”
Shetakesmyfacebetweenherpalms,andshekissesme.
Youfellinlovewithme,Rachel.
HerkissremovesaweightfrommychestthatissoheavyIfeellikeI’mfloating.Ifeellikeshe’sfloatingwithme.
Iturnheruntilherbackisagainstthewall.
Ibringherarmsaboveherheadandlinkmyfingersthroughhers,pressingherhandsintothetilewallbehindher.
Welookintoeachother’seyes…andwecompletelyshatterrulenumbertwo.chapterthirteen
TATE
“Thanksformakingmego,”MilessaystoCorbin.“AsidefromanotherhandinjuryandfindingoutyouthoughtIwasgay,Ihadagoodtime.”
Corbinlaughsandturnstounlockourdoor.“It’snotexactlymyfaultIassumedyouweregay.Younevertalkaboutgirls,andyou’veapparentlyleftsexoffyourscheduleforsixyearsstraight.”
Corbingetsthedooropenandwalksinside,towardhisbedroom.Istandinthedoorway,facingMiles.
He’slookingstraightatme.Invadingme.“It’sontheagendanow,”hesayswithasmile.
I’managendanow.Idon’twanttobeanagenda.Iwanttobeaplan.Amap.Iwanttobeonamaptohisfuture.
Butthatbreaksrulenumbertwo.
Milesbacksintohisapartmentafteropeninghisdoor,andhenodshisheadinthedirectionofhisbedroom.
“Afterhegoestosleep?”hewhispers
Fine,Miles.Youcanstopbegging.I’llbeyouragenda.
Inodbeforeclosingthedoor.
IshowerandshaveandbrushmyteethandsingandputonjustenoughmakeuptomakeitlooklikeIdidn’tputonanymakeupatall.AndfixmyhairtomakeitlooklikeIdidn’tfixmyhairatall.AndputbackonthesameclothesIhadonearliersoitdoesn’tlooklikeIchangedclothesatall.Butreally,Ichangedmybraandmyunderwear,becausetheydidn’tmatchbeforebutnowtheydo.AndthenIfreakthehelloutbecauseMileswillseemybraandunderweartonight.
Andpossiblytouchthem.
Ifit’spartofhisagenda,hemightevenbetheonetoremovethem.
Myphonereceivesatext,andthesoundstartlesme,becauseatextisn’tontheagendaateleveno’clockatnight.Thetextisfromanunrecognizednumber.Allitsaysis:
Isheinhisroomyet?
Me:Howdoyouhavemynumber?
Miles:IstoleitfromCorbin’sphonewhileweweredriving.
There’saweirdvoiceinmyhead,singing,“Na-na-na-naboo-boo.Hestolemynumber.”
I’msuchachild.
Me:No,he’swatchingTV.
Miles:Good.Ihavetorunanerrand.I’llbebackintwentyminutes.Leavingtheapartmentunlockedincasehegoestobedbeforethen.
Whorunserrandsateleveno’clockatnight?
Me:Seeya.
Istareatmylasttexttohimandcringe.Itsoundswaytoocasual.I’mgivinghimtheimpressionthatIdothisallthetime.Heprobablythinksallmydaysgosomethinglikethis:
Randomguy:Tate,youwanttohavesex?
Me:Sure.Letmefinishupwiththesetwoguys,andI’llberightover.Bytheway,Idon’thaveanyrules,soanythinggoes.
Randomguy:Awesome.
Fifteenminutespass,andthetelevisionfinallyswitchesoff.AssoonasthedoortoCorbin’sbedroomcloses,mineopens.I’macrossthelivingroomandslippingoutthefrontdoorandthenbumpingintoMiles,whoisstandinginthehallway.
“Goodtiming,”hesays.
He’sholdingabag.Hemovesittohisotherhandsoit’snotasvisibletome.
“Afteryou,Tate,”hesays,pushingopenhisdoor.
No,Miles.Ifollow.That’showitiswithus.You’resolid,I’mliquid.Youpartthewaters,I’myourwake.
“Youthirsty?”Hewalkstowardhiskitchen,butI’mnotsureifIcanfollowhimthistime.Idon’tknowhowtodothis,andI’mscaredhe’llnoticethatI’veneverhadarulenumberoneortwobefore.Ifthepastandthefutureareofflimits,thatonlyleavesthepresent,andIhavenoideawhattodointhepresent.
Iwalktothekitcheninthepresent.“Whatdoyouhave?”Iaskhim.
Thebagisonthecounternow,andheseesmeeyeingit,sohepushesitaside,outofmyview.
“Tellmewhatyouwant,andI’llseeifIhaveit,”hesays.
“Orangejuice.”
Hegrins,thenreachestowardthebag.Hepullsoutacontaineroforangejuice,andthesimplefactthatheeventhoughtaboutitistestamenttohisgenerosity.It’salsotestamentthatitdoesn’ttakemuchtomakememelt.IshouldtellhimmyonerulehasjustbecomeStopdoingthingsthatmakemewanttobreakyourrules.
Itaketheorangejuicefromhimwithasmile.“Whatelseisinthebag?”
Heshrugs.“Stuff.”
Hewatchesmeopenthejuice.Hewatchesmetakeadrinkofthejuice.Hewatchesmeputthelidbackonthejuice.Hewatchesmesetthejuiceonhiskitchencounter,buthedoesn’twatchmecloselyenoughtonoticehowfastIcanlungeforthebag.
Igrabitrightbeforehisarmswraparoundmywaist.
He’slaughing.“Putitback,Tate.”
Iopenitandlookinside.
Condoms.
Ilaughandtossitbackontothecounter.WhenIturnaround,hisarmsdon’tleaveme.“Ireallywanttosaysomethinginappropriateorembarrassing,butIcan’tthinkofanything.JustpretendIdidandlaughanyway.”
Hedoesn’tlaugh,buthisarmsarestillaroundme.“You’resoweird,”hesays.
“Idon’tcare.”
Hesmiles.“Thiswholethingisweird.”
He’stellingmehowweirdthisis,butitfeelsprettydamngoodtome.I’mnotsureifweirdfeelsgoodorbadtohim.“Isweirdgoodorbad?”
“Both,”hesays.“Neither.”
“You’reweird,”Itellhim.
Hegrins.“Idon’tcare.”
Hemoveshishandsupmyback,tomyshoulders,andslowlydownmyarmsuntilhishandsaretouchingmine.
Thatremindsme.
Ipullhishandbetweenus.“How’syourhand?”
“Fine,”hesays.
“Ishouldprobablycheckitouttomorrow,”Isay.
“Iwon’tbeheretomorrow.Ileaveinafewhours.”
Twothoughtscrossmymind.One,I’mverydisappointedhe’sleavingtonight.Two,WhyamIhereifhe’sleavingtonight?
“Shouldn’tyoubeasleep?”
Heshakeshishead.“Ican’tsleepnow.”
“Youdidn’teventry,”Isay.“Youcan’tflyaplaneonnosleep,Miles.”
“Thefirstflightisshort.Besides,I’mcopilot.I’llsleepontheplane.”
Sleepisn’tonhisagenda.Tateis.
Tateoverrulessleeponhisagenda.
IwonderwhatelseTateoverrules?
“So,”IwhisperasIdrophishand.Ipause,becauseIdon’thaveanythingtofollowtheSo.Nothing.Notevenala-ti-do
It’squiet.
It’sgettingawkward.
“So,”hesays.Hisfingersmovethroughmineandspreadthemapart.Myfingerslikehisfingers.
“Doyouwanttoknowhowlongit’sbeenforme,sinceIknowsuchanintimatedetailaboutyou?”Iaskhim.
It’sonlyfair,consideringmyentirefamilyknowshowlongit’sbeenforhim.
“No,”hesayssimply“ButIdowanttokissyou.”
Hmm.Notsurehowtotakethat,butI’mnotabouttoanalyzehisnowhenit’sfollowedupwithastatementlikethat.
“Thenkissme,”Isay.
Hisfingersleavemineandmovetothesidesofmyhead,andheholdsmestill.“Ihopeyoutastelikeorangejuiceagain.”
One,two,three,four,five,six,seven,eight.
Icountthewordsinthatlastsentence,thensearcharoundinmyheadforaplacetostorethoseeightwordsforever.IwanttohidetheminaminddrawerandlabelitThingstopulloutandreadwhenhisstupidrulenumbertwobecomesasadandlonelypresent.
Milesisinmymouth.He’sinvadingmeagain.Ishuttheminddrawerandgetoutofmyheadandcomebacktohim.
Invademe,invademe,invademe.
Imusttastelikeorangejuice,becausehe’scertainlyactingasthoughhe’senjoyingthetaste.Imustenjoytastinghim,too,becauseI’mpullinghimtome,kissinghim,doingmybesttoinfiltratehimwithnothingbutTate.
Hepullsawaytocatchhisbreathandspeak.“Iforgothowgoodthisfeels.”
He’scomparingme.Idon’tlikethathe’scomparingmetowhoeverelseoncemadehimfeelthisgood.
“Wanttoknowsomething?”hesays.
Ido.Iwanttoknoweverything,butforsomereason,Ipickthismomenttogetrevengeonthatonewordhespoketome.
“No.”Ipullhimbacktomymouth.Hedoesn’tkissmebackrightaway,becausehedoesn’tknowwhattothinkaboutwhatjusthappened.Hismouthcatchesupprettyquickly,though.IthinkhehatedmyclippedresponseasmuchasIhatedhis,andnowhe’susinghishandstogethisownrevenge.Ican’ttellwherehe’stouchingme,becauseassoonashetouchesmeinonespot,hishandsmovetoanother.He’stouchingmeeverywhere,nowhere,notatall,allatonce.
MyfavoritepartaboutkissingMilesisthesound.Thesoundofhislipswhentheycloseovermine.ThesoundofourbreathsbeingswallowedbyeachotherIlovethewayhegroanswhenourbodiesjointogether.Guysusuallytendtoholdbacktheirsoundsmorethangirlsdo.
NotMiles.Mileswantsme,andhewantsmetoknowit,andIlovethat.
God,Ilovethat.
“Tate,”hemuttersagainstmymouth.“Let’sgotomybedroom.”
Inod,sohepullsawayfrommymouth.Hereachesacrossthebartogettheboxofcondoms.Hebeginswalkingwithmetohisbedroom,buthequicklywalksbackintothekitchenandgrabstheorangejuice.Whenheshoulderspastmetoleadthewaytohisbedroom,hewinks.
Thewaythatonelittlewinkmakesmefeelleavesmeterrifiedaboutwhatit’llfeellikeoncehe’sinsideme.Idon’tknowifIcansurviveit.
Oncewe’reinhisbedroom,Ibegintogrowapprehensive.Mostlybecausethisishisplace,andthiswholesituationisprettymuchonhisterms,andIfeelalittlebitatadisadvantage.
“What’swrong?”heasks.He’sslippingoffhisshoes.Hewalkstothebathroomandflipsoffthelight,thenclosesthedoor.
“Ijustgotkindofnervous,”Iwhisper.I’mstandinginthemiddleofhisbedroom,knowingexactlywhat’sabouttohappen.Usually,thesethingsaren’tdiscussedandprearrangedlikethis.They’respontaneousandheated,andneitherpartyknowswhat’shappeninguntilithappens.
ButMilesandIbothknowwhat’sabouttohappen.
Hewalkstothebedandsitsontheedgeofit.“Comehere,”hesays.Ismile,thenwalkafewfeettowherehe’sseated.Hecupsthebacksofmythighs,thenpresseshislipstotheT-shirtcoveringmystomach.Myhandsfalltohisshoulders,andIlookdownathim.He’slookingupatme,andthecalmnessinhiseyesiscontagious.
“Wecangoslow,”hesays.“Itdoesn’thavetobetonight.Thatwasn’toneoftherules.”
Ilaugh,butIalsoshakemyhead.“No,it’sfine.You’releavinginafewhoursandwon’tbebackfor,what,fivedays?”
“Ninethistime,”hesays.
Ihatethatnumber.
“Idon’twanttomakeyouwaitninedaysaftergettingyourhopesup,”Isay.
Hishandsslideupthebacksofmythighsandcomearoundtothefrontofmyjeans.Heflicksthebuttonopeneffortlessly.
“Beingabletoimaginedoingthiswithyouisinnowaytortureforme,”hesaysashisfingerstouchmyzipper.Hebeginstopullitdown,andmyheartishammeringawayinmychestsoharditfeelslikeit’sbuildingsomething.Maybemyheartisbuildingastairwayforhimselfallthewaytoheaven,sinceheknowshe’llexplodeanddiethesecondthesejeansslideoff.
“It’llforsurebetortureforme,”Iwhisper.
Myzipperisundone,andhishandisslidinginsidemyjeans.Hepusheshishandaroundtomyhip,thenbeginstotugthemoff.
Iclosemyeyesandtrynottosway,buthisotherhandhasliftedupmyshirtjustenoughforhislipstopressagainstmystomach.It’soverwhelming.
Bothhishandsslipinsidemyjeansnow,aroundtomybackside.Hepushesmyjeansdownslowlyuntilthey’rearoundmyknees.Histonguemeetsmystomach,andmyhandsgetlostinhishair.
Whenmyjeansarefinallyaroundmyankles,Istepoutofboththemandmyshoesatthesametime.Hishandsslidebackupmythighsandtomywaist.HepullsmetohimsothatI’mstraddlinghim.Headjustsmylegsoneithersideofhim,thencupsmyrearandpullsmeflushagainsthim.Igasp.
Idon’tknowwhyitseemslikeI’mtheinexperiencedonehere.Icertainlyexpectedhimtobealittlelesstake-charge,butI’mnotcomplaining.
Notatall.
Iliftmyarmsforhimwhenheattemptstopulloffmyshirt.Hethrowsittothefloorbehindme,andhislipsreconnectwithmineashishandsworktheclaspofmybra.
It’snotfair.I’mabouttobeleftwithonearticleofclothing,andhehasn’tremovedanythingyet.
“You’resobeautiful,”hewhispers,pullingbacktoslideoffmybra.Hisfingersslipbeneaththestraps,andhebeginstoslidethemdownmyarms.I’mholdingmybreath,waitingforhimtotakeitoff.IwanthismouthonmesobadIcan’tthinkstraight.Whenthebralowers,revealingallofme,heexhales.“Wow,”hesayswithshakybreath
Hetossesthebraontothefloorandlooksbackupatme.Hesmilesandbrieflypresseshislipstomine,kissingthemsoftly.Whenhepullsback,hebringshishandsuptomycheeksandlooksmeintheeyes.“Youhavingfun?”
IbitemybottomliptokeepfromsmilingasmuchasIwanttosmilerightnow.Heleansforwardandtakesmylipintohismouth,pullingitawayfrommyteeth.Hekissesitforafewseconds,thenreleasesit.“Don’tbitethatagain,”hesays.“Ilikeseeingyousmile.”
Ofcourse,Ismileagain.
Myhandsareonhisshoulders,soIslidethemloweronhisbackandbegintotugonhisshirt.HereleasesmyfaceandliftshisarmssoIcantakeitoffofhim.Ileanbackandtakehimin,justashe’stakingmeinrightnow.Irunmyhandsoverhischest,touchingeverycontourofeverymuscle.“You’rebeautiful,too.”
Hepresseshispalmsintomyback,urgingmetositupstraight.AssoonasIdo,helowershismouthtomybreastandsoftlyglideshistongueacrossmynipple.Imoan,andhecoversitwithhismouthcompletely.
Oneofhishandsmovestomyhipandslidesbeneaththehemofmyunderwear.“Iwantyouonyourback,”hewhispers.Hekeepsonehandonmybackasheseamlesslyswitchespositions,pullingmefromhislaptohisbed.He’sbentovermenow,pullingonmyunderwearashistonguedipsinsidemymouth.Myhandsimmediatelyfalltothebuttononhisjeans,andIunbuttonthem,buthepullsawayquickly.“Iwouldn’tdothatyet,”hewarns.“Otherwisethiswillbeoverfasterthanitstarted.”
Ikindofdon’tcarehowlongitlasts.Ijustreallywanthisclothesoffofhim.
Hebeginstoslidemyunderwearoffofme.Hebendsoneofmylegsandslipsitoffmyfoot,thendoesthesametotheother.He’sdefinitelynotlookingmeintheeyesanymore.
Heallowsmylegstofallbacktothebedashestandsupstraightandbackstwofeetawayfromme.
“Wow,”hewhispers,staringdownonme.He’sjuststandinghere,staringatmeasIlienakedonhisbed,whilehe’sstillinthecomfortofhisjeans.
“Thisfeelsalittleunfair,”Isay.
Heshakeshisheadandpullshisfistagainsthismouth,bitinghisknuckles.Heturnsarounduntilhisbackistomeandtakesalong,deepbreath.Hefacesmeagain,scrollingupthelengthofmybodyuntilhemeetsmyeyes.“It’stoomuch,Tate.”
Ifeelthedisappointmentseepinwithhiswords.He’sstillshakinghishead,buthe’swalkingtothenightstand.Hepicksuptheboxofcondomsandopensit,thenpullsoneoutandputsitbetweenhisteeth,rippingitopen.
“I’msorry,”hesays,franticallysteppingoutofhisjeans.“Iwantedthistobegoodforyou.Iwantedittobememorable,atleast.”He’soutofhisjeansnow.He’slookingmeintheeyes,butI’mfindingithardtokeepeyecontactwithhim,becausenowhisboxersareoff.“ButifI’mnotinsideyouintwoseconds,thisisgoingtobereallyembarrassingforme.”
Hewalksswiftlytomeandsomehowslidesthecondomonatthesametimeashe’spushingmykneesapartwithhisotherhand.“I’llmakeituptoyouinafewminutes.Promise,”hesays,pausingbetweenmylegs,waitingformyapproval.
“Miles,”Isay,“Idon’tcareaboutanyofthat.Ijustwantyouinsideme.”
“ThankGod.”Hesighs.Hetakesmylegbehindthekneewithhisrighthand,andthenhislipsmeetmine.HethrustshimselfinsidemesounexpectedlyhardandfastIpracticallyscreamintohismouth.Hedoesn’tstoptoaskmeifithurts.Hedoesn’tslowdown.Hepushesharderanddeeperuntilthereisn’tanywaywecouldpossiblygetanycloser.
Itdoeshurtbutinthebestpossibleway.
I’mmoaningintohismouth,andhe’sgroaningagainstmyneck,andhislipsareeverywhere,alongwithhishands.It’srough.It’scarnalandheavyandhot,andit’snotquietatall.It’sfast,andIcantellbythetensingofhisbackbeneathmyhandsthathewasright.Thiswon’ttakehimlong.
“Tate,”hebreathes.“God,Tate.”
Themusclesinhislegsbecometight,andhebeginstoshake.“Fuck,”hegroans.Hislipspresstomine,hard,andheholdshimselfstill,despitethetremorsmovingthroughouthislegsandhisback.Hepullshislipsfrommineandexhalesahugebreath,droppinghisforeheadtothesideofmyhead.“JesusfuckingChrist,”hesays,stilltense.Stillshaking.Stillpresseddeepinsideme.
Thesecondhepullsoutofme,hislipsareonmyneck,movingdownuntiltheymeetmybreasts.Hekissesthembutonlybrieflybeforehe’sbackatmymouthagain.“Iwanttotasteyou,”hesays.“Isthatokay?”
Inod.
Inodvigorously.
Hepullsawayfromthebed,disposesofthecondom,andreturnstohisspotnexttome.Iwatchhimtheentiretime,because—asmuchashedidn’twanttoknowhowlongit’sbeensinceI’vebeenwithaguy—it’sbeenalmostayear.That’snotanywherenearthesixyearshe’swaited,butit’sbeenlongenoughthatIdon’twanttomissthisbykeepingmyeyesclosed.EspeciallynowthatIgettostarefreelyatthatVandnothavetobeembarrassedbythefactthatIcan’ttakemyeyesoffofhim.
He’swatchingmybodynowwiththesamefascinationashishandglidesacrossmystomach,thenmovesdownuntilhereachesmythighs.Hepushesmylegsapartashewatcheswhathe’sdoingtomewithsomuchenthrallmentIhavetokeepmyeyesopensoIcanwatchhimwatchme.SeeingwhatIdotohimisenoughofaturn-onwithouthimeventouching
Twoofhisfingersslideintome,andIsuddenlyfinditalotmoredifficulttocontinuewatchinghim.Histhumbremainsoutsideme,teasingeveryspotitcantouch.Imoanandletmyhandsfalltothebedabovemyheadasmyeyesclose.
Iprayhedoesn’tstop.Idon’twanthimtostop.
Hismouthmeetsmine,andhekissesmesoftly,hislipsastarkcontrasttothepressureofhishand.Hismouthslowlybeginstoexploreitswaydownmychinuntilit’sonmyneck,thedipinmythroat,trailingdownmychest,coveringmynipple,downmystomach,down,down,holyshit,down.
Hesettleshimselfbetweenmylegs,leavinghisfingersinsidemeashistonguemeetsmyskin,separatingme,causingmybacktoarchandmymindtoletgo.
Ijustletgo.
Idon’tcarethatI’mmoaningsoloudlyIprobablyjustwokeuptheentirefloor.
Idon’tcarethatI’mdiggingmyheelsintothemattress,tryingtopullawayfromhimbecauseit’stoomuch.
Idon’tcarethathisfingersleavemeinordertogripmyhipsandholdmeagainsthismouth,refusingtoletmeclimbawayfromhim,thankGod.
Idon’tcarethatI’mmorethanlikelyhurtinghim,pullinghishair,pushinghimintome,doingwhateverIcantoreachapointsohighI’malmostpositiveI’veneverbeentherebefore.
Mylegsbegintoshake,andhisfingersfindtheirwaybackinsideme,andI’mprettysureI’mtryingtosmothermyselfwithhispillow,becauseIdon’twanttogethimkickedoutofthisapartmentbuildingbyscreamingasloudlyasIneedtoscreamrightnow.
Allofasudden,IfeelasifI’mupintheair,flying.IfeellikeIcouldlookdownandtherewouldbeasunrisebelowme.IfeellikeI’msoaring.
I’m…
Oh,God.
I’m…
JesusChrist.
I’m…this…him
I’mfalling.
I’mfloating.
Wow.
Wow,wow,wow.
Ineverwanttotouchthegroundagain.
WhenI’vecompletelymeltedtothebed,hehungrilyworkshismouthbackupmybody.Hetakesthepillowoffmyfaceandtossesitaside,thenkissesmebriefly.
“Onemoretime,”hesays.He’soffthebedandbackonitinamatterofseconds,andthenhe’sinsidemeagain,butIdon’teventrytoopenmyeyesthistime.Myarmsaresplayedoutabovemyhead,andhisfingersareentwinedwithmine,andhe’spushing,thrusting,livinginsideme.Ourcheeksarepressedtogether,andhisforeheadisagainstmypillow,andneitherofushastheenergylefttoevenmakeasoundthistime.
Hetiltshisheaduntilhislipsmeetmyear,andthenheslowsdowntoagentlerhythm,pushingintome,thenpullingcompletelyout.Heholdshimselfstill,thenpushesintomeagain,thenpullsallthewayout.Hedoesthisseveralmoretimes,andallIcandoisliehereandfeelhim.
“Tate,”hewhispers,hislipsclosetomyear.Hepullsoutofmeandstillshimselfagain.“Icanalreadysaythiswithonehundredpercentcertainty.”
Hethrustsbackinsideme.
“The.”
Hepullsout,thenrepeatshismovementagain.
“Best.”
Again.
“Thing.”
Again.
“I’ve.”
Again.
“Ever.”
Again
“Felt.”
Heholdshimselfstill,breathingheavilyagainstmyear,grippingmyhandssohardtheyhurt;buthedoesn’tmakeasinglesoundwhilehereleasesforthesecondtime.
Wedon’tmove.
Wedon’tmoveforalongtime.
Ican’twipetheexhaustedsmileoffmyface.I’mprettysureit’stherepermanentlynow.
Milespullsbackandlooksdownonme.Hesmileswhenheseesmyface,andlookingathimbringsittomyattentionthatheneveroncemadeeyecontacteithertimehewasinsideme.Itmakesmewonderifthiswasintentionalorifitwasjustacoincidence.
“Comments?”heasksteasingly.“Suggestions?”
Ilaugh.“I’msorry.I’mjust…Ican’t…words…”Ishakemyhead,lettinghimknowIstillneedalittletimebeforeIcanspeak
“Speechless,”hesays.“Evenbetter.”
Hekissesmeonthecheek,thenstandsupandwalkstohisbathroom.Iclosemyeyesandwonderhowinthehellthiswholethingbetweenuswilleverendwell.
Itcan’t.
IcanalreadytellbecauseIneverwanttodothiswithanyoneelseeveragain
OnlyMiles.
Hewalksbackintothebedroomandbendsdowntopickuphisboxershorts.Hepicksupmyunderwearandjeansintheprocessandlaysthemonthebedbesideme.
I’mguessingthat’shishintthathewantsmetogetdressed?
Isitupandwatchashepicksupmybraandshirtandhandsthemtome.Everytimehiseyesmeetmine,hesmiles,butI’mfindingithardtosmileback.
OnceI’mdressed,hepullsmeupandkissesme,thenwrapshisarmsaroundme.“Ichangedmymind,”hesays.“Afterthis,I’mprettysurethenextninedaysaregoingtobepuretorture.”
Ibitemysmile,buthedoesn’tnotice,becauseI’mstillwrappedinhisarms.“Yep.”
Hekissesmeontheforehead.“Canyoulockthedooronyourwayout?”
Iswallowmydisappointmentandsomehowfindthestrengthtosmileathimwhenhereleasesme.“Sure.”Iwalktowardhisbedroomdoorandhearhimfallontohisbed.
Ileave,notknowingwhattofeel.Hedidn’tpromisemeanythingmorethanwhatjusthappenedbetweenus.WedidwhatIwillinglyagreedto,whichwashavesex.
Ijustwasn’texpectingthisoverwhelmingfeelingofembarrassment.Notbecauseofthewayhedismissedmeimmediatelyafterwehadsexbutratherforthewaythatdismissalmademefeel.IthoughtIwouldwantthistobestrictlysexbetweenusjustasmuchashedoes,butbasedonthebeatingmyhearttookinthelasttwominutes,I’mnotsosureI’mcapableofanythingsimplewithhim.
There’sasmallvoiceinthebackofmyhead,warningmetopullawayfromthissituationbeforethingsbecometoocomplicatedwithhim.Unfortunately,there’samuchloudervoiceurgingmetojustgoforit—tellingmeIdeservealittlefuninmylifewithalltheworkI’vegotgoingon.
JustthinkingabouthowmuchIenjoyedtonightisenoughtomakemeacceptandevenembracehiscasualnessafterward.Maybewithalittlemorepractice,Icanevenlearnhowtoenforceitmyself.
IwalktomyapartmentdoorbutpausewhenIhearsomeonespeaking.Ipressmyeartothedoorandlisten.Corbinishavingaone-sidedconversationinthelivingroom,presumablywithsomeoneontheotherendofhiscellphone.
Ican’twalkinnow.HethinksI’minbed.
IlookbackatMiles’sapartmentdoor,butI’mnotabouttoknockonit.Notonlywouldthatbeawkward,butitwouldalsomeanhe’dgetevenlesssleepthanhe’salreadyabouttoget.
Iwalktotheelevatoranddecidetositoutthenexthalfhourinthelobby,hopingCorbinwillgobacktohisbedroomsoon.
It’sridiculousthatIevenfeelIhavetohidethisfromCorbin,butthelastthingIwantisforhimtobeupsetwithMiles.Andthat’sexactlywhatwouldhappen.
Imakeittothelobbyandstepofftheelevator,notquitesurewhatI’mevendoing.IguessIcouldgowaititoutinmycar.
“Youlost?”
IglanceovertoCap,andhe’sseatedinhisusualspot,despitethefactthatit’salmostmidnight.Hepatstheemptychairnexttohim.“Haveaseat.”
Iwalkpasthimtotheemptychair.“Ididn’tbringanyfoodthistime,”Isay.“Sorry.”
Heshakeshishead.“Idon’tlikeyouforyourfood,Tate.You’renotthatgoodofacook.”
Ilaugh,anditfeelsgoodtolaugh.Thingshavejustfeltsointenseforthepasttwodays.
“HowwasThanksgiving?”heasks.“Didtheboyhaveagoodtime?”
Ilookathimandtiltmyheadinconfusion.“Theboy?”
Henods.“Mr.Archer.Didn’thespendtheholidaywithyouandyourbrother?”
Inod,understandinghisquestionnow.“Yes,”Isay.IwanttoaddthatI’mprettysureMr.ArcherjusthadthebestThanksgivinghe’shadinmorethansixyears,butIdon’t.“Mr.Archerhadagreattime,Ithink.”
“Andwhat’sthesmilefor?”
IimmediatelywipeawaythegrinIdidn’trealizewasplasteredonmyface.Iscrunchupmynose.“Whatsmile?”
Caplaughs.“Oh,hell,”hesays.“Youandtheboy?Areyoufallin’inlove,Tate?”
Ishakemyhead.“No,”Isayimmediately.“It’snotlikethat.”
“Howso,then?”
IquicklylookawayassoonasIfeeltheblushcreepupmyneck.Caplaughswhenheseesmycheeksturnasredasthechairswe’reseatedon.
“Imaybeold,butthatdon’tmeanIcan’treadbodylanguage,”hesays.“Doesthismeanyouandtheboyare…what’sthetermtheyusenow?Hookin’up?Bumpin’uglies?”
Ileanforwardandburymyfaceinmyhands.Ican’tbelieveI’mhavingthisconversationwithaneighty-year-oldman.
Iquicklyshakemyhead.“I’mnotansweringthat.”
“Isee,”Capsayswithanod.We’rebothquietforamomentwhileweprocesswhatImoreorlessjusttoldhim.“Well,good,”hesays.“Maybethatboywillactuallysmileeverynowandthen.”
Inodincompleteagreement.Icoulddefinitelyusemoreofhissmile.“Canwechangethesubjectnow?”
Capslowlyturnshisheadtowardmeandarcheshisbushygrayeyebrow.“IevertellyouaboutthetimeIfoundadeadbodyonthethirdfloor?”
Ishakemyhead,relievedthathechangedthesubjectbutconfusedthatthesubjectofadeadbodyhassomehowhelpedmefindrelief.
I’mjustasmorbidasCap.chapterfourteen
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
“Doyouthinkthefactthatweshouldn’tbedoingthisiswhywelikedoingitsomuch?”Rachelasks.
She’sreferringtokissingme.
Wekissalot.
Everychancewegetandevenchanceswedon’tget.
“Whenyousayshouldn’t,doyoumeanbecauseourparentsaretogether?”
Shesaysyes.Hervoiceisbreathless,becauseI’mcurrentlykissingmywayupherneck.
IlikethatItakeherbreathaway.
“RememberthefirsttimeIsawyou,Rachel?”
Shemoansasoundthatmeansyes.
“AnddoyouremembermewalkingyoutoMr.Clayton’sclass?”
Shegivesmeanotherwordlessyes.
“Iwantedtokissyouthatday.”Iworkmywaybackuptohermouthandlookherintheeyes.“Didyouwanttokissme?”
Shesaysyes,andIcanseeinhereyesthatshe’sthinking
backtothatday.
Tothedayshe
Became
My
Everything.
“Wedidn’tknowaboutourparentsthatday,”Iexplain.“Yetwestillwantedtobedoingthis.Sono,Idon’tthinkthat’swhywelikeitnow.”
Shesmiles.
“See?”Iwhisper,brushingmylipssoftlyacrossherstoshowherhowgooditfeels.
Sheliftsoffherpillowandholdsherselfuponherelbow.
“Whatifwejustlikekissingingeneral?”sheasks.“Whatifithasnothingtodowithmeoryouinparticular?”
Shealwaysdoesthis.Itellhersheshouldbealawyer,becauseshelikesplayingdevil’sadvocatesomuch.ButIloveitwhenshedoesit,soIalwaysgoalongwithit.
“Goodpoint,”Itellher.“Idolikekissing.Idon’tknowofanyonewhodoesn’tlikeit.Butthere’sadifferencebetweenthisandsimplylikingtokiss.”
Shelooksatmecuriously.“What’sthedifference?”
Ilowermymouthtohersoncemore.“You,”Iwhisper.“Ilikekissingyou.”
Thatanswersherquestion,becausesheshutsupandbringshermouthbacktomine.
IlikethatRachelquestionseverything
Itmakesmelookatthingsinadifferentway.
IhavealwaysenjoyedkissingthegirlsI’vekissedinthepastbutonlybecauseIwasattractedtothem.Itdidn’treallyhaveanythingtodowiththeminparticular.
WhenIkissedalltheothergirls,Ifeltpleasure.That’swhypeopleenjoykissing,becauseitfeelsgood.
Butwhenyouliketokisssomeonebecauseofwhosheis,thedifferenceisn’tfoundinthepleasure.
Thedifferenceisfoundinthepainyoufeelwhenyou’renotkissingher.
Itdoesn’thurtwhenI’mnotkissinganyoftheothergirlsI’vekissed.
ItonlyhurtswhenI’mnotkissingRachel.
Maybethisexplainswhyfallinginloveissodamnpainful.
Ilikekissingyou,Rachel.chapterfifteen
TATE
Miles:Areyoubusy?
Me:Alwaysbusy.What’sup?
Miles:Ineedyourhelp.Won’ttakelong.
Me:Bethereinfive.
Ishouldhavegivenmyselftenminutesratherthanfive,becauseIhaven’thadashowertoday.Afteraten-hourshiftlastnight,I’msureIneedone.IfIknewhewashome,ashowerwouldhavebeenmytoppriority,butIthoughthewasn’tduebackuntiltomorrow.
Ipullmyhairupintoaloosebunandchangefrommypajamabottomsintoapairofjeans.It’snotquitenoonyet,butI’membarrassedtoadmitIwasstillinbed.
HeyellsformetocomeinafterIknockonhisdoor,soIpushitopen.He’sstandingonachairnexttooneofthe-living-roomwindows.Heglancesdownatme,thennodshisheadtowardachair.
“Grabthatchairandpushitrightthere,”hesays,pointingtoaspotafewfeetawayfromhim.“I’mtryingtomeasurethese,butI’veneverboughtcurtainsbefore.Idon’tknowifI’msupposedtomeasuretheoutsideframeortheactualwindowitself.”
Well,I’llbedamned.He’sbuyingcurtains.
Iscootthechairtotheothersideofthewindowandclimbupontoit.Hehandsmeoneendofthemeasuringtapeandbeginstopull.
“Italldependsonwhatkindofcurtainsyouwant,soI’dgetmeasurementsforboth,”Isuggest.
He’sdressedcasuallyagaininapairofjeansandadarkblueT-shirt.Somehowthedarkblueinhisshirtmakehiseyeslooklessblue.Itmakesthemlookclear.See-through,almost,butIknowthat’simpossible.Hiseyesareanythingbutsee-throughwiththatwallhekeepsupbehindthem.
Heentersthemeasurementintohisphone,andthenwetakeasecondmeasurement.Oncehe’sgotbothenteredintohisphone,westepdownandpushthechairsbackunderthetable.
“Whataboutarug?”heasks,staringatthefloorbeneaththetable.“YouthinkIshouldgetarug?”
Ishrug.“Dependsonwhatyoulike.”
Henodshisheadslowly,stillstaringdownatthebarefloor.
“Idon’tknowwhatIlikeanymore,”hesaysquietly.Hetossesthetapemeasureontothecouchandlooksatme.“Youwanttocome?”
Irefrainfromimmediatelynodding.“Whereto?”
Hebrusheshishairoffhisforeheadandreachesforhisjackettossedoverthebackofhiscouch.“Whereverpeoplebuycurtains.”
Ishouldsayno.Pickingoutcurtainsissomethingcouplesdo.Pickingoutcurtainsissomethingfriendsdo.PickingoutcurtainsisnotsomethingMilesandTateshoulddoiftheywanttosticktotheirrules,butIabsolutely,positively,mostdefinitelydon’twanttodoanythingelse.
Ishrugtomakemyanswerappearmuchmorecasualthanitis.“Sure.Letmelockmydoor.”
???
“What’syourfavoritecolor?”Iaskhimoncewe’reontheelevator.I’mtryingtostayfocusedonthetaskathand,butIcan’tdenythedesireIhaveforhimtoreachoutandtouchme.Akiss,ahug…anything.We’restandingonoppositesidesoftheelevator,though.Wehaven’ttouchedsincethenightwefirsthadsex.Wehaven’tevenspokenortextedsincethen,either
“Black?”hesays,unsureofhisownanswer.“Ilikeblack.”
Ishakemyhead.“Youcan’tdecoratewithblackcurtains.Youneedcolor.Maybesomethingclosetoblackbutnotblack.”
“Navy?”heasks.Inoticehiseyesaren’tfocusedonmineanymore.Hiseyesarescrollingslowlyfrommyneckallthewaydowntomyfeet.Everywherehiseyesfocus,Icanfeelit.
“Navymightwork,”Isayquietly.I’mprettysurethisconversationisonlytakingplaceforthesakeofhavingconversation.Icanseebythewayhe’slookingatmethatneitherofusisthinkingaboutcolorsorcurtainsorrugsrightnow.
“Doyouhavetoworktonight,Tate?”
Inod.Ilikethathe’sthinkingabouttonight,andIlovehowheendsmostofhisquestionswithmyname.Ilovehowhesaysmyname.Ishouldrequirehimtosaymynameeverytimehespeakstome.“Idon’thavetobeinuntilten.”
Theelevatorreachesthebottomfloor,andwebothmovetothedoorsatthesametime.Hishandconnectswiththesmallofmyback,andthecurrentthatmovesthroughmeisundeniable.I’vehadcrushesonguysbefore,hell,I’veevenbeeninlovewithguysbefore,butnoneoftheirtoucheshaveeverbeenabletomakemerespondthewayhisdo.
AssoonasIstepofftheelevator,hishandleavesmyback.I’mmoreawareoftheabsenceofhistouchnowthanbeforeheeventouchedme.EachlittlebitIget,Icraveitthatmuchmore.
Capisn’tinhisusualspot.That’snotsurprising,though,consideringit’sonlynoon.He’snotmuchofamorningperson.Maybethat’swhywegetalongsowell.
“Youfeellikewalking?”Milesasks.
Itellhimyes,despitethefactthatit’scoldout.Ipreferwalking,andwe’renearseveralstoresthatwouldworkforwhathe’slookingfor.IsuggestastoreIpassedacoupleofweeksagothat’sonlytwoblocksfromwhereweare.
“Afteryou,”hesays,holdingthedooropenforme.Istepoutsideandpullmycoatalittletighteraroundme.IhighlydoubtMilesisthetypeofguywhoholdshandsinpublic,soIdon’tevenworryaboutmakingmyhandsavailabletohim.Ihugmyselftokeepwarm,andwebeginwalkingside-by-side.
We’requietmostoftheway,butI’mfinewithit.I’mnotsomeonewhofeelstheneedforconstantconversation,andI’mlearningthathemightbethesameway.
“It’srightuphere,”Isay,pointingtotherightwhenwereachacrosswalk.Iglancedownatanelderlymanseatedonthesidewalk,bundledupinatattered,thincoat.Hiseyesareclosed,andtheglovesonhisshiveringhandsarerifledwithholes.
I’vealwaysbeensympathetictopeoplewhohavenothingandnowheretogo.CorbinhatesthatIcanneverpasshomelesspeoplewithoutgivingthemmoneyorfood.HesaysthemajorityofthemarehomelessbecausetheyhaveaddictionsandthatwhenIgivethemmoney,itonlyfeedsthoseaddictions.
Honestly,Idon’tcareifthat’sthecase.Ifsomeoneishomelessbecausehehasaneedforsomethingthatisstrongerthanhisneedforahome,itdoesn’tdetermeintheleast.Maybeit’sbecauseI’manurse,butIdon’tbelieveaddictionisachoice.Addictionisanillness,anditpainsmetoseepeopleforcedtolivethiswaybecausethey’reunabletohelpthemselves.
IwouldgivehimmoneyifIhadbroughtmypurse.
IrealizeI’mnolongerwalkingwhenIfeelMilesstealaglancebackinmydirection.He’swatchingmewatchtheoldman,soIpickupmypaceandcatchbackupwithhim.Idon’tsayanythingtodefendthetroubledexpressiononmyface.It’spointless.I’vebeenthroughitenoughwithCorbintoknowthatIdon’thavethedesiretotrytochangealltheopinionsIdisagreewith.
“Thisisit,”Isay,comingtoapauseinfrontofthestore.
Milesstopswalkingandinspectsthedisplayinsidethestorewindow.“Doyoulikethat?”heasks,pointingatthewindow.Itakeastepcloserandlookatitwithhim.It’sabedroomdisplay,butthereareelementsinitthathe’slookingfor.Therugonthefloorisgraywithseveralgeometricshapesinvariousshadesofblueandblack.Itactuallylookslikesomethingthatwouldfithistaste.
Thecurtainsaren’tnavy,though.They’reaslategray,withonesolidwhitelinerunningverticallydowntheleftsideofthepanel.
“Idolikeit,”Ireply.
Hestepsinfrontofmeandopensthedoortoletmewalkinfirst.Asaleswomanismakingherwaytowardthefrontbeforethedoorevenclosesbehindus.Sheasksifshecanhelpusfindanything.Milespointstothewindow.“Iwantthosecurtains.Fourofthem.Andtherug.”
Thesaleswomansmilesandmotionsforustofollowher.“Whatwidthandheightdoyouneed?”
Milespullshisphoneoutandreadsoffthemeasurementstoher.Shehelpshimpickoutcurtainrodsandthentellsusshe’llbeafewminutes.Sheheadstothebackandleavesusaloneattheregister.Ilookaround,suddenlydevelopingtheurgetopickoutdecorationsformyownplace.IplanonstayingwithCorbinforacouplemoremonths,butitwouldn’thurttohaveanideaofwhatI’llwantformyownplacewhenIdofinallymoveout.I’mhopingit’llbejustaseasytoshopwhenthattimecomesasitwasforMilestoday.
“I’veneverseenanyoneshopthisfast,”Itellhim.
“Disappointed?”
Iquicklyshakemyhead.Ifthere’sonethingIdon’tdowellasagirl,it’sshop.I’mactuallyrelieveditonlytookhimaminute.
“YouthinkIshouldlookaroundlonger?”heasks.He’sleaningagainstthecounternow,watchingme.Ilikethewayhelooksatme—likeI’mthemostinterestingthinginthestore.
“Ifyoulikewhatyoualreadypickedout,Iwouldn’tkeeplooking.Whenyouknow,youknow.”
Imeethisgaze,andthesecondIdo,mymouthgetsdry.He’sconcentratingonme,andtheseriouslookonhisfacemakesmefeeluncomfortableandnervousandinteresting,allatonce.Hepushesoffthecounterandtakesasteptowardme.
“Comehere.”Hisfingersreachdownandwraparoundmine,andhebeginstopullmebehindhim.
Mypulseisbeingridiculous.It’ssad,really.
They’rejustfingers,Tate.Don’tletthemaffectyoulikethis.
Hecontinueswalkinguntilhereachesawoodentrifoldscreen,decoratedwithAsianwritingontheoutside.It’sthekindofscreenpeopleplaceinthecornersofbedrooms.Ineverunderstoodthem.Mymotherhasone,andIdoubtshe’severoncesteppedbehindittochangeclothes.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iaskhim.
Heturnsandfacesme,stillholdingontomyhand.Hegrinsandstepsbehindthescreen,pullingmewithhimsowe’rebothshieldedfromtherestofthestore.Ican’thelpbutlaugh,becauseitfeelslikewe’reinhighschool,hidingfromtheteacher.
Hisfingermeetsmylips.“Shh,”hewhispers,smilingdownatmewhilehestaresatmymouth.
IimmediatelystoplaughingbutnotbecauseIdon’tfindthisamusinganymore.Istoplaughingbecauseassoonashisfingerispressedagainstmylips,Iforgethowtolaugh.
Iforgeteverything.
Rightnow,theonlythingIcanfocusonishisfingerasitslidessoftlydownmymouthandchin.Hiseyesfollowthetipofhisfingerasitkeepsmoving,trailinggentlydownmythroat,allthewaytomychest,down,down,downtomystomach.
Thatonefingerfeelsasifit’stouchingmewiththesensationofathousandhands.Mylungsandtheirinabilitytokeepuparesignsofthat.
Hiseyesarestillfocusedonhisfingerasitcomestoapauseatthetopofmyjeans,rightabovethebutton.Hisfingerisn’tevenmakingcontactwithmyskin,butyouwouldn’tknowthatbasedontherapidresponseofmypulse.Hisentirehandcomesintoplaynowashelightlytracesmystomachoverthetopofmyshirtuntilhishandmeetsmywaist.Bothofhishandsgripmyhipsandpullmeforward,securingmeagainsthim.
Hiseyesclosebriefly,andwhenheopensthemagain,he’snolongerlookingdown.He’slookingstraightatme.
“I’vebeenwantingtokissyousinceyouwalkedthroughmyfrontdoortoday,”hesays.
Hisconfessionmakesmesmile.“Youhaveincrediblepatience.”
Hisrighthandleavesmyhip,andhebringsituptothesideofmyhead,touchingmyhairassoftlyaspossible.Hebeginstoshakehisheadinslowdisagreement.“IfIhadincrediblepatience,youwouldn’tbewithmerightnow.”
Ilatchontothatsentenceandimmediatelytrytofigureoutthemeaningbehindit,butthesecondhislipstouchmine,I’mnolongerinterestedinthewordsthatlefthismouth.I’monlyinterestedinhismouthandhowitfeelswhenitinvadesmine.
Hiskississlowandcalm—thecompleteoppositeofmypulse.Hisrighthandmovestothebackofmyhead,andhislefthandslipsaroundtomylowerback.Heexploresmymouthpatiently,asifheplansonkeepingmebehindthispartitionfortherestoftheday.
I’msummoningeverylastbitofwillpowerIcanfindinordertokeepmyselffromwrappingmyarmsandlegsaroundhim.I’mtryingtofindthepatiencehesomehowshows,butit’shardwhenhisfingersandhandsandlipscanpullthesekindsofphysicalreactionsoutofme.
Thedoortothebackroomopens,andtheclickofthesaleswoman’sheelscanbeheardagainstthefloor.Hestopskissingme,andmyheartcriesout.Luckily,thecrycanonlybefelt,notheard
Ratherthanpullingawaytowalkbacktothecounter,hebringsbothhishandstomyfaceandholdsmestillwhilehelooksatmeinsilenceforseveralseconds.Histhumbsbrushlightlyacrossmyjaw,andhereleasesasoftbreath.Hisbrowsfurrow,andhiseyesclose.Hepresseshisforeheadtomine,stillholdingontomyface,andIcanfeelhisinternalstruggle.
“Tate.”
HesaysmynamesoquietlyIcanfeelhisregretinthewordshehasn’tevenspokenyet.“Ilike…”Heopenshiseyesandlooksatme.“Ilikekissingyou,Tate.”
Idon’tknowwhythatsentenceseemedhardforhimtosay,buthisvoicetrailedofftowardtheendasthoughhewasattemptingtostophimselffromfinishinghiswords.
Assoonasthesentenceleaveshismouth,hereleasesmeandquicklystepsaroundthepartitionasifhe’stryingtoescapefromhisownconfession.
Ilikekissingyou,Tate.
DespitetheregretIthinkhefeelsforsayingthem,I’mprettysureI’llbesilentlyrepeatingthosewordsfortherestoftheday.
Ispendagoodtenminutesmindlesslybrowsing,runninghiscomplimentthroughmyheadoverandoverwhileIwaitforhimtofinishhistransaction.He’shandingoverhiscreditcardwhenIreachthecounter.
“We’llhavethesedeliveredwithinthehour,”thesaleswomansays.Shehandshimbackhiscreditcardandbeginstotakethebagsoffthecountertoplacethembehindher.Hetakesoneofthebagsfromherwhenshebeginstoliftit.“I’lltakethisone,”hesays.
Heturnsandfacesme.“Ready?”
Wemakeourwayoutside,anditsomehowfeelsasifitdroppedtwentydegreessincewewerelastouthere.Thatmayjustbebecausehemadethingsseemalotwarmerinside
Wereachthecorner,andIbegintoheadbackinthedirectionoftheapartmentcomplex,butInoticehe’sstoppedwalking.Iturnaround,andhe’spullingsomethingoutofthebaghe’sholding.Hetearsawayatag,andablanketunfolds.
No,hedidn’t.
Heholdstheblanketouttotheoldmanstilltherebundleduponthesidewalk.Themanlooksupathimandtakestheblanket.Neitherofthemsaysaword.
Mileswalkstoanearbytrashcanandtossestheemptybagintoit,thenheadsbacktowardmewhilestaringdownattheground.Hedoesn’tevenmakeeyecontactwithmewhenwebothbeginwalkinginthedirectionoftheapartmentcomplex.
Iwanttotellhimthankyou,butIdon’t.IfItellhimthankyou,itwouldseemlikeIassumehedidthatforme.
Iknowhedidn’tdoitforme.
Hediditforthemanwhowascold.
???
Milesaskedmetogohomeassoonaswereturned.Hesaidhedidn’twantmetoseehisapartmentuntilhehadeverythingdecorated,whichwasgood,becauseIhadalotofhomeworktocatchuponanyway.Ididn’treallyhavetimecarvedoutofmyscheduletohangupcurtains,soIappreciatedthathedidn’texpectmyhelp.
Heseemedalittlebitexcitedabouthangingupnewcurtains.AsexcitedasMilescanseem,anyway.
It’sbeenseveralhoursnow.Ihavetobeatworkinlessthanthreehours,andassoonasIbegintowonderifhe’sevengoingtoaskmetocomebackover,Ireceiveatextfromhim.
Miles:Haveyoueatenyet?
Me:Yes.
I’msuddenlydisappointedthatIalreadyatedinner.ButIgottiredofwaitingforhim,andheneversaidanythingaboutdinnerplans.
Me:Corbinmademeatloaflastnightbeforeheleft.Youwantmetobringyouaplate?
Miles:I’dlovethat.Starving.Comelooknow.
Imakehimaplateandwrapitinfoilbeforeheadingacrossthehall.He’sopeningthedoorbeforeIevenknock.Hetakestheplateoutofmyhands.“Waithere,”hesays.Hestepsinsidehisapartmentandreturnssecondslaterwithouttheplate.“Ready?”
IhavenoideahowIknowhe’sexcited,becausehe’snotsmiling.Icanhearitinhisvoice,though.There’sasubtlechange,anditmakesmesmile,knowingsomethingassimpleashangingupsomecurtainsmakeshimfeelgood.Idon’tknowwhy,butitseemsasifthereisn’talotinhislifethatmakeshimfeelgood,soIlikethatthisdoes.
Heopensthedooralltheway,andItakeafewstepsintotheapartment.Thecurtainsareup,andeventhoughit’sasmallchange,itfeelshuge.Knowinghe’slivedhereforfouryearsandhe’sjustnowputtingupcurtainsgivesthewholeapartmentadifferentfeel.
“Youmadeagoodchoice,”Itellhim,admiringhowwellthecurtainsmatchwhatlittleIknowabouthispersonality
Ilookdownattherug,andhecanseetheconfusionasitcrossesmyface.
“Iknowit’ssupposedtogounderthetable,”hesays,lookingdownatit.“Itwill.Eventually.”
It’spositionedinanoddspot.It’snotinthecenteroftheroomoreveninfrontofthecouch.I’mconfusedaboutwhyheplaceditwherehedidifheknowswhereitwouldlookthebest.
“IleftittherebecauseIwashopingwecouldchristenitfirst.”
Ilookbackupathimandseetheadorablyhopefulexpressiononhisface.Itmakesmesmile.“Ilikethatidea,”Isay,lookingbackdownattherug.
Alongsilencepassesbetweenus.I’mnotsureifhewantstochristentherugrightthisminuteorifhewantstoeatfirst.I’mfinewitheither.Aslongashisplanfitswithinmythree-hourtimeframe.
We’rebothstillstaringattherugwhenhespeaksagain.“I’lleatlater,”hesays,answeringthequestionthatwassilentlyrunningthroughmyhead.
Hepullsoffhisshirt,andIkickoffmyshoes,andtherestofourclotheseventuallyenduptogether,nexttotherug.chaptersixteen
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
EverythingisbetternowthatIhaveRachel.
Fallingasleepisbetter,knowingRachelisfallingasleeprightacrossthehall.
Wakingupeverymorningissomuchbetter,knowingRacheliswakinguprightacrossthehall.
Goingtoschoolisbetter,nowthatwegotogether.
“Let’sskiptoday,”ItellRachelwhenwepullintotheparkinglotoftheschool.
I’msureskippingschoolisevenbetterwithRachel.
“Whatifwegetcaught?”
Shedoesn’tsoundlikeshereallycaresifwegetcaught.
“Ihopewegetcaught,”Itellher.“Thatmeanswe’dbegrounded.Together.Inthesamehouse.”
MywordsmakeRachelsmile.Sheleansacrosstheseatandslidesherhandaroundmyneck.Iloveitwhenshedoesthat.“Beinggroundedwithyousoundsreallyfun.Let’sdoit.”Sheleansforwardandgivesmeasimple,quickpeckonthelips.
Simplekissesarebetterwhenthey’refromRachel.
“Youmakeeverythingbetter,”Itellher.“Mylife.It’sbetterwithyouinit.”
MywordsmakeRachelsmileagain.Racheldoesn’tknowthis,buteverywordIspeakisvoicedforthatsolereason.Tomakehersmile.
IpulloutoftheparkinglotandtellRachelwe’regoingtothebeach.Shesaysshewantsherbathingsuit,sowegotothehousefirstandgetourbathingsuits.Wealsopackalunchandablanket.
Wegotothebeach.
Rachelwantstosunbathewhileshereads.
IwanttowatchRachelsunbathewhileshereads.
She’slyingonherstomach,proppeduponherelbows.Ilaymyheadonmyarmsandwatchher.
Myeyesfollowthesmoothcurvesofhershoulders…theswayinherback…thewayherkneesarebentandherlegsareupintheairwithherfeetcrossedattheankles.
Rachelishappy.
ImakeRachelhappy.
ImakeRachel’slifebetter.
Herlifeisbetterwithmeinit.
“Rachel,”Iwhisper.
Sheplacesherbookmarkinsidethebookandclosesit,butshedoesn’tlookatme.
“Iwantyoutoknowsomething.”
Shenods,butshecloseshereyesasthoughshewantstofocusonmyvoiceandnothingelse.
“Whenmymomdied,IstoppedbelievinginGod.”
Shelaysherheadonherarmsandkeepshereyesshut.
“Ididn’tthinkGodwouldmakesomeonegothroughthatmuchphysicalpain.Ididn’tthinkGodwouldmakesomeonesufferlikeshesuffered.Ididn’tthinkGodwascapableofmakingsomeonegothroughsomethingsougly.”
AtearfallsfromRachel’sclosedeyes
“ButthenImetyou,andeverysingledaysincethen,I’vewonderedhowsomeonecouldbesobeautifuliftherewasn’taGod.I’vewonderedhowsomeonecouldmakemesoincrediblyhappyifGoddidn’texist.AndIrealized…justnow…thatGodgivesustheuglinesssowedon’ttakethebeautifulthingsinlifeforgranted.”
Mywordsdon’tmakeRachelsmile.
MywordsmakeRachelfrown.
MywordsmakeRachelcry.
“Miles,”shewhispers.
Shesaysmynamesoquietlyit’sasifshedoesn’twantmetohearit.
Shelooksatme,andIcanseethatthismomentisn’toneofthebeautifulmomentsforher.Notlikeitisforme.
“Miles…I’mlate.”chapterseventeen
TATE
Corbin:Wanttograbdinner?Whattimedoyougetoffwork?
Me:Tenminutes.Whereat?
Corbin:We’renearby.We’lljustmeetyououtfront.
We?
Ican’tignoretheexcitementthatjustfloodedmewiththattext.SurelythewemeanshimandMiles.Ican’tthinkofanyoneelsewhowouldbecomingwithhim,andIknowMilescamehomelastnight.
Ifinishupthelastofmypaperwork,thenmakeastopintherestroomtocheckmyhair(IhatethatIcare)beforeheadingoutsidetomeetthem.
ThethreeofthemarestandingneartheentrancewhenIwalkoutside.IanandMilesarebothwithCorbin.Iansmileswhenheseesme,sincehe’stheonlyonefacingme.CorbinspinsaroundwhenIreachthem.
“Ready?We’regoingtoJack’s.”
They’requitetheteam.Allgood-lookingintheirownwaysbutevenmoresowhenthey’resportingtheirpilotjacketsandwalkinginagrouplikethis.Ican’tdenyIfeelsomewhatunderdressed,walkingnexttotheminmyscrubs.“Let’sdoit,”Isay.“I’mstarving.”
IglanceatMiles,andhegivesmetheslightestnodbutnosmile.Hishandsareplantedfirmlyinthepocketsofhisjacket,andhelooksawayasweallbeginwalking.Hestaysastepaheadofmetheentiretime,soIwalknexttoCorbin.
“What’stheoccasion?”Iaskasweheadtowardtherestaurant.“Arewecelebratingthefactthatallthreeofyouareoffonthesamenight?”
Asilentconversationpassesaroundme.IanlooksatMiles.CorbinlooksatIan.Mileslooksatnoone.Hekeepshiseyesforward,focusedonthesidewalkaheadofus.
“RememberwhenwewerekidsandMomandDadtookustoLaCaprese?”Corbinasks.
Irememberthatnight.I’veneverseenmyparentshappier.Icouldn’thavebeenolderthanfiveorsix,butit’soneofthefewmemoriesIhavefromthatyounganage.Itwasthedaymyfathermadecaptainwithhisairline.
IstopinmytracksandimmediatelylookatCorbin.“Youmadecaptain?Youcan’tgetcaptain.You’retooyoung.”Iknowforafacthowharditistomakecaptainandhowmanyhoursapilothastoputintobeconsidered.Mostpilotsintheirtwentiesarecopilots.
Corbinshakeshishead.“Ididn’tgetcaptain.I’vechangedairlinestoomuch.”HecutshiseyestoMiles.“ButMr.SignMeUpforMoreHoursoverheregotanicelittlepromotiontoday.Brokethecompanyrecord.”
IlookatMiles,andhe’sshakinghisheadatCorbin.Icantellhe’sembarrassedthatCorbinjustcalledhimout,buthismodestyisjustonemorethingIfindappealingabouthim.IhaveafeelingthatiftheirfriendDillonwereevertomakecaptain,he’dbeontopofabarsomewhere,announcingittotheentireworldwithamegaphone.
“It’snotthatbigadeal,”Milessays.“It’saregionalairline.Notmanypeopletopromote.”
Ianshakeshishead.“Ididn’tgetpromoted.Corbindidn’tgetpromoted.Dillondidn’tgetpromoted.You’vebeenatthisayearlessthananyofus,nottomentionthefactthatyou’reonlytwenty-four.”Hespinsaroundandwalksbackward,facingallthreeofus.“Abandonthemodestyforonce,man.Rubitinourfacesalittle.We’ddoittoyouiftheroleswerereversed.”
Idon’tknowhowlongthey’vebeenfriends,butIlikeIan.IcantellheandMilesareclose,becauseIanisgenuinelyproudofhimandnotatalljealous.IlikethattheseareCorbin’sfriends.ItmakesmehappyforCorbinthathehasthissupport.I’vealwayspicturedhimlivinghere,workingtoomuch,spendingallhistimealoneandawayfromhome.Idon’tknowwhy,though.Ourfatherwasapilot,andhewashomeafairamountoftime,soIshouldn’thavemisconceptionswhenitcomestoCorbin’slifeasapilot.
IguessCorbinisn’ttheonlyonetoworryunnecessarilyabouthissibling.
Wereachtherestaurant,andCorbinholdsthedooropenforus.Ianwalksinfirst,andMilesstepsback,allowingmetowalkinaheadofhim.
“I’mgoingtotherestroom,”Iansays.“I’llfindyouguys.”
Corbinwalkstothehostessstand,andMilesandIarebothbehindhim.IstealaglanceinMiles’sdirection.“Congratulations,Captain.”
Isayitundermybreath,butIdon’tknowwhy.It’snotasifCorbinwouldbecomesuspiciousifheheardmecongratulatingMiles.IguessIfeelifIsayitinatoneonlyMilescanhear,there’smoremeaningbehindit.
Milescutshiseyestomineandsmiles,thenglancesatCorbin.WhenheseesCorbin’sbackisstilltous,heleansoverandplantsaquickkissonthesideofmyhead.
Ishouldbeashamedofmyweakness.Amanshouldnotbeallowedtomakemefeelthewaythatstolenkissjustmademefeel.It’sasifI’msuddenlyfloatingorsinkingorflying.Anythingthatdoesn’trequiresupportfrommylegs,becausethey’vejustbecomeuselesstome.
“Thankyou,”hewhispers,stillsportingthatgorgeousyetsomehowmodestgrin.Henudgesmyshoulderwithhisandlooksdownathisfeet.“Youlookpretty,Tate.”
Iwanttoplasterthosefourwordsonabillboardandrequiremyselftopassitonmydrivetoworkeveryday.Iwouldnevertakeanotherdayoffworkagain
AsmuchasIwanttobelievehe’sbeingsincerewithhiscompliment,IfrowndownatthescrubsI’vebeenwearingfortwelvehoursstraight.“I’mwearingMinnieMousescrubs.”
Heleansintomeagainuntilourshouldersaretouching.“I’vekindofalwayshadathingforMinnieMouse,”hesaysquietly.
Corbinturnsaround,soIimmediatelywipethegrinoffmyface.“Boothortable?”
MilesandIbothshrug.“Either,”hesaystoCorbin.
Ianreturnsfromtherestroomjustasthehostessbeginstoleadustoourseats.CorbinandIanleadtheway,andMilesfollowsclosebehindme.Reallyclose.Hishandgripsmywaistasheleansforwardtowardmyearfrombehindme.“Kindofhaveathingfornurses,too,”hewhispers.
Iraisemyshouldertorubtheearhejustwhisperedhisadmissioninto,becausemyentireneckisnowcoveredinchills.Hereleasesmywaistandputsdistancebetweenuswhenwereachthebooth.CorbinandIanscootintoeachsideofthebooth.MilessitsnexttoIan,soIsitnexttoCorbin,directlyacrossfromMiles.
MilesandIbothordersodas,comparedwithIanandCorbin’sbeer.Hisdrinkchoiceisjustonemorethingtomullover.Severalweeksago,headmittedhedoesn’tusuallydrink,butconsideringhewasbeyondwastedthefirstnightImethim,Ifiguredhewouldatleasthaveonedrinktonight.Hecertainlyhasreasontocelebrate.Whenthedrinksarebroughttothetable,Ianraiseshisglass.“Toshowingusup,”hesays.
“Again,”Corbinadds.
“Toworkingtwiceasmanyhoursaseitherofyou,”Milessaysinmockdefensiveness.
“CorbinandIactuallyhavesexlivesthatinterferewithworkingovertime,”Ianretorts.
Corbinshakeshishead.“Nodiscussingmysexlifeinfrontofmysister.”
“Whynot?”Ipipeup.“It’snotlikeIdon’tnoticealltherandomnightsyouspendawayfromtheapartmentwhenyouaren’tworking.”
Corbingroans.“I’mserious.Changeofsubject.”
Igranthimhisrequestgladly.“Howlonghavethethreeofyouknowneachother?”Iaskthequestiontonooneinparticular,butIonlycaretoheartheanswersthatinvolveMiles.
“MilesandIhaveknownyourbrothersincemeetinghiminflightschoolafewyearsback.I’veknownMilessinceIwasnineorten,”Iansays.
“Wewerebotheleven,”Milescorrects.“Wemetduringfifthgrade.”
Ihavenoideaifthisconversationisbreakingruleoneofnoaskingaboutthepast,butMilesdoesn’tseemuncomfortabletalkingaboutit
Thewaitressbringsusacomplimentarybasketofbread,butnoneofushasevenopenedamenuyet,soshetellsusshe’llbebacktotakeourorder.
“Istillcan’tbelieveyou’renotgay,”CorbinsaystoMiles,completelychangingthesubjectagainwhileheopenshismenu.
Milespeersathimoverhismenu.“Ithoughtweweren’tdiscussingsexlives.”
“No,”Corbinsays.“Isaidweweren’tdiscussingmysexlife.Besides,youdon’tevenhaveonetodiscuss.”CorbinlayshismenuflatonthetableandengagesMilesdirectly.“Seriously,though.Whydon’tyoueverdate?”
Milesshrugs,moreinterestedinthedrinkbetweenhishandsthaninhavingastare-downwithmybrother.“Relationshipsaren’tworththeendresulttome.”
Somethinginmyheartcracks,andIstarttoworrythatoneoftheguysmightactuallyhearitfragmentingoverthesilence.Corbinleansbackintheseat.
“Damn.Shemusthavebeenaseriousbitch.”
MyeyesaresuddenlygluedtoMiles,waitingforhisreactiontoapossiblerevelationabouthispast.Hegiveshisheadaslightshake,silentlydismissingCorbin’sassumption.Iangentlyclearshisthroat,andhisexpressionchangesashelosesthesmilenormallyaffixedtohisface.It’sobviousbyIan’sreactionthatwhateverissuesMileshasfromhispast,Ianisdefinitelyawareofthem.
Iansitsupstraightinhisseatandraiseshisglass,pastingaforcedgrinontohislips.“Milesdoesn’thavetimeforgirls.He’stoobusybreakingcompanyrecordsbybecomingtheyoungestcaptainourairlinehaseverseen.”
WetakeIan’sinterruptionforwhatitisandraiseourglasses.Weclinkthemtogether,andeveryonetakesadrink.
TheappreciativelookMilesshootsinIan’sdirectiondoesn’tgounnoticedbyme,althoughCorbinseemstobeclueless.NowI’mevenmorecuriousaboutMiles.AndequallyconcernedthatI’mgettinginovermyhead,becausethemoretimeIspendwithhim,themoreIwanttoknoweverythingthereistoknowabouthim.
“Weshouldcelebrate,”Corbinsays.
Milesmoveshismenudown.“Ithoughtthat’swhatweweredoing.”
“Imeanafterthis.We’regoingouttonight.Weneedtofindagirltoputanendtoyourdryspell,”Corbinsays.
Ialmostspitmydrinkout,butluckily,I’mabletocontainmylaugh.Milesnoticesmyreactionandtapsmyankleunderthetablewithhisfoot.Butheleaveshisfootrightnexttomine.
“I’llbefine,”Milessays.“Besides,thecaptainneedshisrest.”
Allthelettersonthemenubegintoblurasmymindreplacesthemwithwordslikeendinganddryspellandrest.
IanlooksatCorbinandnods.“I’llgo.Letthecaptaingobacktohisapartmentandsleepofftheeffectsofhiscola.”
Milespegsmewithhiseyesandadjustsslightlyinhisseatsothatourkneestouch.Hewrapshisfootaroundthebackofmyankle.“Sleepactuallysoundsreallygood,”hesays.Hetradesmystareforthemenuinfrontofhim.“Let’shurryupandordersoIcangobacktomyapartmentandsleep.ItfeelslikeIhaven’tsleptinmorethanninedays,andit’sallI’vebeenabletothinkabout.”
Mycheeksareonfire,alongwithseveralotherareasofmybody.
“Infact,Ikindofhavetheurgetofallasleeprightnow,”Milessays.Heliftshiseyestomeetmine.“Righthereatthetable.”
Nowthetemperatureintherestofmybodymatchestheheatinmycheeks.
“God,you’relame,”Corbinsays,laughing.“WeshouldhavebroughtDilloninstead.”
“No,weshouldnothave,”Ianimmediatelysayswithanexaggeratedrollofhiseyes.
“What’sthedealwithDillon?”Iask.“Whydoyouallhatehimsomuch?”
Corbinshrugs.“It’snotthatwehatehim.Wejustcan’tstandhim,andnoneofusrealizedituntilafterwehadalreadyinvitedhimtoourgamenights.He’saprick.”Corbinshootsmethatall-too-familiarglare.“AndIdon’teverwantyoualonewithhim.Beingmarrieddoesn’tstophimfrombeinganasshole.”
Andthere’sthatpossessive,brotherlyloveI’vebeenmissingalltheseyears.
“Ishedangerous?”
“No,”Corbinsays.“Ijustknowhowhetreatshismarriage,andIdon’twantyougettinginvolvedwiththat.ButI’vealreadymadeitcleartohimthatyou’reofflimits.”
Ilaughathisabsurdity.“I’mtwenty-three,Corbin.YoucanstopactinglikeDadnow.”
Hisfacepinchestogether,andforasecond,heevenstartsresemblingourdad.“ThehellIwill,”Corbingrowls.“You’remylittlesister.Ihavestandardsforyou,andDillondoesn’tcomeclosetomeetingevenoneofthem.”
Hehasn’tchangedabit.Asannoyingasitwasinhighschool,andstillkindofis,Idolovethathewantsthebestforme.I’mjustafraidhisversionofwhat’sbestformedoesn’texist.
“Corbin,noguywillevercomeclosetothestandardsyou’vesetforme.”
Henods,gettingallrighteous.“Damnright.”
IfhewarnedDillontostayawayfromme,itmakesmewonderifhewarnedMilesandIan,too.Thenagain,hedidthinkMileswasgay,soheprobablydidn’tseeapossibilitythere.
IwonderifMileswouldmeetCorbin’sstandards.
MyeyeswanttolookatMilessoincrediblymuchrightnow,butI’mafraidI’dbetooobvious.Instead,Iforceasmileandshakemyhead.“Whycouldn’tIhavebeenbornfirst?”
“Wouldn’thavemadeadifference,”Corbinreplies.
???
Iansmilesatthewaitressandmotionsforthecheck.“It’sonmetonight.”Helaysdownenoughcashtocoverthebillandtip,andweallstandandstretch.
“Sowho’sgoingwhere?”Milesasks.
“Bar,”Corbinrepliesimmediately,blurtingitoutlikehe’scallingdibs.
“Ijustgotoffatwelve-hourshift,”Isay.“I’mbeat.”
“MindifIcatcharidewithyou?”Milesasksasweallmakeourwayoutside.“Idon’tfeellikegoingouttonight.Ijustwantsleep.”
Ilikehowhedoesn’tdisguisetheemphasisinfrontofCorbinwhenhesayssleep.It’slikehewantstoensurethatI’mawarehehasnointentionsofactuallysleeping.
“Yeah,mycarisbackatthehospital,”Isay,pointinginthatgeneraldirection.
“Allright,then,”Corbinsays,claspinghishandstogether.“Youlameassesgosleep.IanandIaregoingout.”Corbinturns,andheandIanwastenotimeheadingintheotherdirection.Corbinspinsaround,walkingbackwardinpacewithIan.“We’lldrinkashotinyourhonor,ElCapitán!”
MilesandIremainmotionless,boxedintoacircleoflightcascadingdownfromastreetlampaswewatchthemwalkaway.Ilookdownatthesidewalkbelowusandscootoneofmyshoestotheedgeofthecircleoflight,watchingasitdisappearsintothedarkness.Ilookupatthestreetlamp,wonderingwhyit’sshiningdownonuswiththeintensityofaspotlight.
“Feelslikewe’reonastage,”Isay,stilllookingupatthelight.
Hetiltshisheadbackandjoinsmyinspectionoftheoddlighting.“TheEnglishPatient,”hesays.Ilookathimquestioningly.Hegesturestothestreetlampaboveourheads.“Ifwewereonastage,itwouldprobablybeaproductionofTheEnglishPatient.”Heflickshishandbackandforthbetweenus.“We’realreadydressedthepart.Anurseandapilot.”
Imulloverwhathesays,probablyalittletoomuch.Iknowhesayshe’sthepilot,butifthisreallywereastageproductionofTheEnglishPatient,Ithinkhewouldbethesoldierratherthanthepilot.Thesoldieristhecharacterwhoissexuallyinvolvedwiththenurse.Notthepilot.
Butthepilotistheonewiththesecretivepast..
“ThatmovieisthereasonIbecameanurse,”Isay,lookingathimwithastraightface.
Hereturnshishandstohispockets,shiftinghisgazefromthelightoverheadbacktome.“Forreal?”
Mylaughescapes.“No.”
Milessmiles.
Thatrhymes.
Webothturnatthesametimetoheadbacktowardthehospital.Ifindmyselfusingthelullinourconversationtoconstructareallybadpoeminmyhead.
Milessmiles
Fornooneelse
Milesonlysmiles
Forme.
“Whyareyougrinning?”heasks.
BecauseI’mrecitingembarrassingthird-grade-levelrhymesaboutyou.
Ipinmylipstogether,forcingmysmileaway.WhenIknowit’sgoneforgood,Ianswerhim.“JustthinkingabouthowtiredIam.Lookingforwardtoareallygood”—Icutmyeyestohis—“sleeptonight.”
He’stheonesmilingnow.“Iknowwhatyoumean.Idon’tthinkI’veeverbeenthistired.Imightevensleepassoonaswe’reinsideyourcar.”
Thatwouldbenice.
Ismilebutbowoutofthemetaphor-ladenconversation.It’sbeenalongday,andIactuallyreallyamtired.Wewalkinsilence,andIcan’thelpbutnoticethathishandsareshovedfirmlyintohisjacketpockets,asifhe’sprotectingmefromthem.Ormaybehe’sprotectingthemfromme.
We’reonlyablockawayfromtheparkinglotwhenhisfootstepsslow,thenstopcompletely.Naturally,Istopwalkingandturnaroundtoseewhatcaughthisattention.He’slookingupatthesky,andmyeyesfocusonthescarthatrunsthelengthofhisjaw.Iwanttoaskhimaboutit.Iwanttoaskhimabouteverything.Iwanttoaskhimamillionquestions,startingwithwhenhisbirthdayisandthenwhathisfirstkisswaslike.Afterthat,Iwanttoaskhimabouthisparentsandhisentirechildhoodandhisfirstlove.
IwanttoaskhimaboutRachel.Iwanttoknowwhathappenedwiththemandwhywhateverhappenedcausedhimtowanttoavoidanyformofintimacyformorethansixyears.
Mostofall,Iwanttoknowwhatitwasaboutmethatfinallyputanendtoit
“Miles,”Isay,eachquestionwantingtodiveoffthetipofmytongue.
“Ifeltaraindrop,”hesays.
Beforethesentenceleaveshismouth,Ifeelone,too.We’rebothlookingupattheskynow,andI’mswallowingallthequestionsalongwiththelumpinmythroat.Thedropsbegintofallfaster,butwecontinuetostandtherewithourfacestilteduptowardthesky.Thesporadicdropsturnintosprinkles,whichthenturnintofull-onrain,butneitherofushasmoved.Neitherofusismakingamaddashforthecar.Therainisslidingdownmyskin,downmyneck,intomyhair,andsoakingmyshirt.Myfaceisstilltiltedtowardthesky,butmyeyesareclosednow.
There’snothingintheworldthatcomparestothefeelandsmellofbrand-newrain.
Assoonasthatthoughtcrossesmymind,warmhandsmeetmycheeksandslidetothenapeofmyneck,stealingthestrengthfrommykneesandtheairfrommylungs.Hisheightisshieldingmefrommostoftherainnow,butIkeepmyeyesclosedandtiltedtowardthesky.Hislipscomedowngentlyovermine,andIfindmyselfcomparingthefeelandsmellofbrand-newraintohiskiss.
Hiskissismuch,muchbetter.
Hislipsarewetfromtherain,andthey’realittlebitcold,buthecounterbalancesthatwiththewarmcaressofhistongueagainstmine.Thefallingrain,thedarknesssurroundingus,andbeingkissedlikethismakeitfeellikewereallyareonastageandourstoryhasjustreacheditsclimax.Itfeelsasifmyheartandmystomachandmysoulareallscramblingtogetoutofmeandintohim.Ifallmytwenty-threeyearswerelaidonagraph,thismomentwouldbethecrestinmybellcurve.
Ishouldprobablybealittlebitsadanddisappointedaboutthisrealization.I’vehadafewseriousrelationshipsinmypast,butIcan’trecallasinglekisswithanyofthoseguyswhereIfeltthismuch.ThefactthatI’mnoteveninarelationshipwithMilesandIfeelthisaffectedbyhimshouldtellmesomething,butI’mtooinvestedinhismouthtoscrutinizethatthought.
Therainhasturnedintoadownpour,butneitherofusseemstobeaffectedbyit.Hishandsdroptomylowerback,andIfisthisshirtinmyhands,pullinghimcloser.Hismouthfitsmineasifwe’retwopiecesfromthesamepuzzle.
Theonlythingthatcouldpossiblyseparatemefromhimrightnowwouldbeaboltoflightning.
Orthefactthatit’srainingsohardIcan’tbreathe.MyclothesarestucktopartsofmeIdidn’tevenknowclothescouldstickto.Myhairissosaturateditcan’tabsorbanotherdropofwater.
Ipushagainsthimuntilhereleasesmymouthfromhis,andthenIburymyheadunderhischinandlookdownsoIcantakeabreathwithoutdrowning.Hewrapshisarmaroundmyshouldersandushersmetowardtheparkinglot,liftinghisjacketovermyhead.Hepicksuphispace,andImatchhimstepforstepuntilwe’rebothrunning.
Wefinallyreachmycar,andheapproachesthedriver’s-sidedoorwithme,stillshieldingmefromtherain.OnceI’minsidethecar,herushesaroundtothepassengerside.Whenbothofourdoorsareshut,thesilenceinsidethecarmagnifiestheintensityofourheavybreathing.Ireachmyhandsbehindmyheadandgathermyhair,thensqueezetheexcesswaterfromit.Itrunsdownmyneck,myback,andmyseat.It’sthefirsttimeI’mrelievedtohaveleatherseatsinCalifornia.
Idropmyheadbackandsighheavily,thenstealaglanceinhisdirection.“Idon’tthinkI’veeverbeenthiswetinmylife.”
Iwatchasaslowgrinspreadsacrosshisface.Histhoughtsobviouslyplummetintothegutterwiththatstatement.
“Pervert,”Iwhisperplayfully.
Hecockshiseyebrowandsmirks.“Yourfault.”Hereachesacrosstheseatandwrapshisfingersaroundmywrist,pullingmetowardhim.“Comehere.”
Imakeaquickinventoryofoursurroundings,buttherainisfallingsohardIcan’tevenseeoutside.Whichmeansnoonecanseein
Iadjustmyselfontopofhimandstraddlehislapashescootstheseatasfarbackasitgoes.Hedoesn’tkissme,though.Hishandsslidedownmyarmsandcometorestonmyhips.
“I’veneverhadsexinacarbefore,”hesayswithalittlebitofhopeinhisconfession.
“I’veneverhadsexwithacaptainbefore,”Ioffer.
Herunshishandsundermyscrubtop,slidingthemupmystomachuntiltheymeetmybra.Hecupsbothbreasts,thenleansforwardandkissesme.Hiskissdoesn’tlastlong,becausehebreaksittospeakagain.“I’veneverhadsexasacaptainbefore.”
Ismile.“I’veneverhadsexinscrubsbefore.”
Hishandsslidearoundtomyback,andhedipstheminsidemywaistband.Hepullsmyhipstowardhimatthesametimeasheliftshimselfeversoslightly,immediatelycausingmygriptotightenaroundhisshouldersandagasptopassmylips.Hismouthmovestomyearashishandsre-createthesensualrhythmbetweenusbypullingmyhipsforwardagain.“Ashotasyoulookinuniform,I’dmuchratherhavesexwithyouinnothingatall.”
I’membarrassedathoweasilyhiswordsalonecanmakememoan.I’malsoembarrassedathowquicklyhisvoicecanundome,tothepointwhereIprobablywantmyclothestocomeoffmorethanhedoes.“Pleasetellmeyoucameprepared,”Isay,myvoicealreadyheavywithwant.
Heshakeshishead.“JustbecauseIknewIwouldseeyoutonightdoesn’tmeanIcamewithexpectations.”I’mimmediatelyfilledwithdisappointment.Heliftshimselfofftheseatandslideshishandintohisbackpocket.“Idid,however,comewithahellofalotofhope.”Hepullsthecondomoutofhiswalletwithagrin,andwebothimmediatelybegintotakeaction.Myhandsconnectwiththebuttononhisjeansfasterthanourmouthsconnect.Heslideshishandsupthebackofmytopandbeginstounclaspmybra,butIshakemyhead.
“Justleaveiton,”Isaybreathlessly.Thelessclotheswetakeoff,thefasterwe’llbeabletogetdressedifwegetcaught.
Hecontinuestounfastenit,despitemyprotest.“Idon’twanttobeinsideyouunlessIcanfeelyouagainstme.”
Wow.Okay,then.
Whenmybraisundone,heliftsmyshirtovermyhead,andhisfingersslideunderthestrapsofmybra.Hepullsthemdownmyarmsuntilthebrafallsaway.Hetossesitintothebackseatandthenpullshisownshirtoverhishead.Afterhisshirtjoinsmybrainthebackseat,hewrapshisarmsaroundmeandpullsmeagainsthimuntilourbarechestsmeet.
Webothimmediatelyinhalesharpbreaths.ThewarmthofhisbodycreatesasensationthatIdon’twanttopullawayfrom.Hebeginskissinghiswaydownmyneck,hisbreathcominginroughwavesagainstmyskin.
“Youhavenoideawhatyoudotome,”hewhispersagainstmythroat.
Ismile,becausethatsameexactthoughtjustwentthroughmyownhead.“Oh,IthinkIhaveanidea,”Ireply.
Hislefthandpalmsoneofmybreasts,andhegroansashisrighthanddipsintomypants.
“Off,”hesayssimply,tuggingattheelasticband.
Hedoesn’thavetoasktwice.IscootbacktomyemptyseatandbeginremovingtherestofmyclotheswhileIwatchhimunziphisjeans.
Hiseyesareallovermeasheripsopenthecondomwrapperwithhisteeth.Whentheonlyarticleofclothingremainingbetweenusishisunbuttonedpairofjeans,Iscoottowardhim.
Ifeelridiculouslyself-consciousthatI’minmycarintheparkinglotofmyworkplaceandI’mcompletelynaked.I’veneverdoneanythinglikethisbefore.I’veneverreallywantedtodoanythinglikethisbefore.Ilovehowdesperateweareforeachotherrightnow,butIalsoknowI’veneverfeltthiskindofchemistrywithanyonebefore.
Iplacemyhandsonhisshouldersandbegintostraddlehimwhileheslidesonthecondom.
“Keepitquiet,”hesaysteasingly.“I’dhatetobethereasonyougetfired.”
Iglanceatthewindow,stillunabletoseeoutside.“It’srainingtoohardforanyonetohearus,”Isay.“Besides,youwerethelouderonelasttime.”
Hedismissesthatwithaquicklaughandbeginskissingmeagain.Hishandsgripmyhips,andhepullsmetohim,readyinghimselfagainstme.Thispositionwouldnormallycausemetomoan,butI’msuddenlyfeelingstubbornwithmynoisesnowthathe’smentionedit.
“There’snowayIwasthelouderone,”hesayswithhislipsstilltouchingmine.“Ifanything,wetied.”
Ishakemyhead.“Idon’tbelieveinendingthingswithatie.That’sacopoutforpeoplewhoaretooscaredtheymightlose.”
Hishandsmeetmyhips,andhe’spositionedagainstmeinsuchawayallIwouldhavetodototakehiminsidemewouldbetoallowittohappen.However,I’mrefusingtolowermyselfontohimsimplybecauseIlikecompetitionandIfeeloneabouttobegin.
Heliftshiships,obviouslyreadytogetthingsgoingbetweenus.Mylegstense,andIpullawayjustenough.
Helaughsatmyresistance.“What’swrong,Tate?Youscarednow?AfraidonceI’minsideyou,we’llbothseewhotheloudonereallyis?”
There’sachallenginggleaminhiseyes.Idon’tverballyaccepthischallengetoseewhocanstayquieter.Instead,IkeepmyeyeslockedwithhiswhileIslowlyeasemyselfontohim.Bothofusgaspsimultaneously,butthat’stheonlysoundthatpassesbetweenus.
Assoonashe’sallthewayinsideme,hishandsmeetmyback,andhepullsmeagainsthim.Theonlysoundswemakeareheavysighsandevenheaviergasps.Therainslappingagainstthewindowsandtheroofmagnifiesthesilencewe’reexperiencinginsidethecar.
Thestrengthittakestoholdbackiscoupledwithaneedtoholdontoeachotherwithmoredesperation.Hisarmsarearoundmywaist,grippingmesotightlyitmakesithardtomove.Myarmsarewrappedaroundhisneck,andmyeyesareshut.We’rebarelymovingnowbecauseofthetightgripswehaveoneachother,butIlikeit.Ilikehowslowandsteadyourrhythmremainswhilewebothfocusonhowtocontinuesuppressingthemoanscaughtinourthroats.
Forseveralminutes,wecontinueinthesamemanner,movingjustenoughbutatthesametimenotnearlyenough.Ithinkwe’rebothtooafraidtomakeanysuddenmovements,ortheintensitywillcauseoneofustolose.
Oneofhishandsglidesaroundtomylowerback,andtheotherhandmeetsthebackofmyhead.Hetakesahandfulofmyhairandgentlytugsuntilmythroatisexposedtohismouth.Iwincethesecondhislipsmeetmyneck,becausestayingquietisalotmorechallengingthanIimagineditwouldbe.Especiallysincehe’satanadvantagewiththewaywe’repositioned.Hishandsarefreetoroamanywheretheywant,andthat’sexactlywhatthey’redoingrightnow
Roaming,caressing,trailingdownmystomachsothathecantouchtheoneplacethatcouldmakemecedevictory.
Ifeellikehe’scheatingsomehow.
Assoonashisfingersfindtheexactspotthatwouldnormallymakemescreamhisname,ItightenmyholdaroundhisshouldersandrepositionmykneessothatIhavemorecontrolofmymovements.Iwanttoputhimthroughjustasmuchtortureashe’sputtingmethroughrightnow.
AssoonasI’mrepositionedandabletoeasemyselffurtherontohim,theslow-and-steadydisappears.Hismouthmeetsmineinafrantickiss—onewithmoreneedandmoreforcethananykissbeforeit.It’sasifwe’reattemptingtokissawayournaturaldesiretoverbalizejusthowgoodthisfeels.
I’msuddenlyhitwithasensationthatripplesthroughmyentirebody,andIhavetoliftmyselfoffofhimandholdstillbeforeIlose.Despitemyneedtoslowthingsdown,hedoestheoppositeandappliesmorepressuretomewithhishand.Iburymyfaceagainsthisneckandbitedowngentlyonhisshoulderinordertostopmyselffrommoaninghisname.
Thesecondmyteethmeethisskin,Ihearthehitchinhisbreathandfeelthestiffeninginhislegs.
Healmostloses.
Almost.
Ifhemovesinsidemeevenaninchmorewhilehe’stouchingmethisway,he’llwin.Idon’twanthimtowin.
Thenagain,Ikindofdowanthimtowin,andI’mthinkinghewantstowinwiththewayhebreathesagainstmyneck,gentlyloweringmebackdownontohim.
Miles,Miles,Miles.
Hecansensethatthisisn’tabouttoendinatie,soheaddsmorepressureagainstmewithhisfingersatthesametimeashistonguemeetsmyear.
Oh,wow.
I’mabouttolose.
Anysecondnow.
Oh,myword.
Heliftshishipswhenhepullsmeagainsthim,forcinganinvoluntary“Miles!”outofmymouth,alongwithagaspandamoan.Iliftoffofhim,butassoonasherealizeshejustwon,heexhalesheavilyandpullsmebackontohimwithmoreforce.
“Finally,”hesaysbreathlesslyagainstmyneck.“Ididn’tthinkIcouldlastanothersecond.”
Nowthatthecompetitionisover,bothofusletloosecompletelyuntilwe’rebeingsoloudwehavetokissagaintostifleoursounds.Ourbodiesaremovinginsync,speedingup,crashinghardertogether.Wecontinueourfranticpaceforafewmoreminutes,escalatinginintensityuntilI’mpositiveIcan’ttakeanothersecondofhim.
“Tate,”hesaysagainstmymouth,slowingtherhythmofmyhipswithhishands.“Iwantustocometogether.”
Oh,holyhell.
Ifhewantsmetolastanylonger,hecan’tsaythingslikethat.Inodmyhead,unabletoformacoherentresponse.
“Areyoualmostthere?”heasks.
Inodagainandtrymybesttospeakthistime,butnothingcomesoutotherthananothermoan.
“Isthatayes?”
Hislipshavestoppedkissingmine,andhe’sfocusedonmyresponsenow.Ibringmyhandstothebackofhisheadandpressmycheektohis.
“Yes,”Isomehowutter.“Yes,Miles.Yes.”Ifeelmyselfbegintotenseatthesametimeashesucksinasharpbreath.
Ithoughtwewereholdingeachothertightlybefore,butthatdoesn’tbegintocomparetothismoment.Itfeelsasifalloursenseshavemagicallymeldedtogetherandwe’refeelingtheexactsamesensations,makingtheexactsamenoises,experiencingtheexactsameintensity,andsharingtheexactsameresponse.
Ourrhythmgraduallybeginstoslow,rightalongwiththetremorsinourbodies.Thetightgripswehavearoundeachotherbegintoloosen.Heburieshisfaceintomyhairandexhalesheavily.
“Loser,”hewhispers.
Ilaughandmovetobitehimplayfullyonhisneck.“Youcheated,”Isay.“Youbroughtinillegalreinforcementwhenyoustartedusingyourhands.”
Helaughswithashakeofhishead.“Handsarefairgame.ButifyouthinkIcheated,maybeweshouldhavearematch.”
Iraisemyeyebrows.“Besttwooutofthree?”
Heliftsmebymywaistandbeginstopushmetowardthepassengerdoorashestrugglestogetbehindthesteeringwheel.Hehandsmemyclothes,pullshisshirtbackoverhishead,andbuttonshisjeans.Oncehe’ssituated,Iadjustmyselfinthepassengerseatandfinishdressingwhilehecranksthecar.Hethrowsitinreverseandbeginsbackingout.“Buckleup,”hesayswithawink.
???
Webarelymadeitoutoftheelevator,muchlesstohisbed.Healmosttookmerightthereinthehallway.Thesadpartis,Iwouldn’thaveminded.
Hewonagain.I’mbeginningtorealizethatcompetingforwhocanstaythequietestisn’treallyagoodideawhenmycompetitorisnaturallythequietestpersonI’veevermet.
I’llgethiminroundthree.Justnottonight,becauseCorbinwillmorethanlikelybeheadinghomesoon.
Milesisstaringatme.He’sonhisstomach,withhishandsfoldedacrosshispillowandhisheadrestingonhisarms.I’mgettingdressed,becauseIwanttobeatCorbintoourapartmentsoIdon’thavetolieaboutwhereI’vebeen.
MilesfollowsmearoundhisbedroomwithhiseyesasIdress.
“Ithinkyourbraisstillinthehallway,”hesayswithalaugh.“MightwanttograbitbeforeCorbinfindsit.”
Icrinkleupmynoseatthethought.“Goodidea,”Isay.Ikneeldownonthebedandkisshimonthecheek,buthewrapshisarmaroundmywaistandpullsmeforwardasherollsontohisback.HegivesmeanevenbetterkissthantheoneIwasjustgivinghim.
“CanIaskyouaquestion?”
Henods,butit’saforcednod.He’snervousaboutmyquestions.
“Whydon’tyouevermakeeyecontactwhenwe’rehavingsex?”
Myquestionthrowshimforaloop.HeregardsmeforseveralsilentmomentsuntilIpullevenfartherawayandsitnexttohimonthebed,waitingforhisanswer.
Hepusheshimselfupandleansbackagainsthisheadboard,staringdownathishands.“Peoplearevulnerableduringsex,”hesayswithashrug.“It’seasytoconfusefeelingsandemotionsforsomethingtheyaren’t,especiallywheneyecontactisinvolved.”Heliftshiseyestomine.“Doesitbotheryou?”
I’mshakingmyheadno,butmyheartiscryingYes!“I’llgetusedtoit,Iguess.Iwasjustcurious.”
Ilovebeingwithhimbuthatemyselfmoreandmorewitheachnewliethatpassesmylips.
Hesmilesandpullsmebacktohismouth,kissingmewithmorefinalitythistime.“Goodnight,Tate.”
Ibackawayandwalkoutofhisroom,feelinghiseyesonmetheentiretime.It’sfunnyhowherefusestomakeeyecontactduringsexyetcan’tseemtokeephiseyesoffmetherestofthetime.
Idon’tfeellikegoingbacktotheapartmentyet,soafterretrievingmybra,IwalktotheelevatorsandmakemywaydowntothelobbytoseeifCapisstillaround.IbarelyhadachancetowaveathimearlierbeforeMilesshovedmeontotheelevatorandravishedme.
Sureenough,Capisstillplantedinhischair,despitethefactthatit’safterteno’clockatnight.
“Doyoueversleep?”IaskasImakemywaytothechairnexttohim.
“Peoplearemoreinterestingatnight,”hesays.“Iliketosleeplate.Avoidallthefoolswhoareintoomuchofarushinthemornings.”
IsighalotlouderthanIintendtowhenIleanmyheadbackintothechair.Capnoticesandturnstolookatme.
“Oh,no,”hesays.“Troublewiththeboy?Lookedlikethetwoofyouweregettingalongfineacoupleofhoursago.ThinkImighthaveevenseenahintofasmileonhisfacewhenhewalkedinwithyou.”
“Thingsarefine,”Isay.Ipauseforafewseconds,gatheringmythoughts.“Haveyoueverbeeninlove,Cap?”
Aslowsmilespreadsacrosshisface.“Oh,yes,”hesays.“HernamewasWanda.”
“Howlongwereyoumarried?”
Helooksatmeandcocksaneyebrow.“Iain’tneverbeenmarried,”hesays.“IthinkWanda’smarriagelastedaboutfortyyearsbeforeshepassed,though.”
Itiltmyhead,tryingtounderstandwhathe’ssaying.“Youhavetogivememorethanthat.”
Hesitsupstraighterinhischair,thesmilestillonhisface.“ShelivedinoneofthebuildingsIdidmaintenancefor.Shewasmarriedtoabastardofamanwhowasonlyhomeabouttwoweeksoutofthemonth.IfellinlovewithherwhenIwasaroundthirtyyearsold.Shewasinhermid-twenties.Peoplejustdidn’tgetdivorcedbackthenoncetheygotmarried.Especiallywomenlikeherwhocamefromthetypeoffamilyshecamefrom.SoIspentthenexttwenty-fiveyearslovingherashardasIcouldfortwoweeksoutofeverymonth.”
Istareathim,notsurehowtorespondtothat.It’snotthetypicallovestorypeopleusuallytell.I’mnotevensureifitcanbeconsideredalovestory.
“Iknowwhatyou’rethinking,”hesays.“Soundsdepressing.Morelikeatragedy.”
Inod,confirminghisassumption.
“Loveisn’talwayspretty,Tate.Sometimesyouspendallyourtimehopingit’lleventuallybesomethingdifferent.Somethingbetter.Then,beforeyouknowit,you’rebacktosquareone,andyoulostyourheartsomewherealongtheway.”
Istoplookingathimandfaceforward.Idon’twanthimtoseethefrownthatIcan’tseemtoremovefrommyface.
IsthatwhatI’mdoing?WaitingforthingswithMilestobecomesomethingdifferent?Somethingbetter?Icontemplatehiswordsforwaytoolong.Solong,infact,Ihearsnoring.IcutmyeyesinCap’sdirection,andhischinhasdroppedtohischest.Hismouthiswideopen,andhe’ssoundasleep.chaptereighteen
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
Irubherbackreassuringly.“Twomoreminutes,”Itellher.
Shenodsbutkeepsherfacepressedintothepalmsofherhands.Shedoesn’twanttolook.
Idon’ttellherwedon’tactuallyneedthetwominutes.Idon’ttellhertheresultsarealreadythere,clearasday.
Idon’ttellRachelshe’spregnantyet,becauseshestillhastwominutesleftofhope.
Icontinuetorubherback.Whenthetimergoesoff,shedoesn’tmove.Shedoesn’tturntolookattheresults.Idropmyheadtothesideofhersuntilmymouthisclosetoherear.
“I’msosorry,Rachel,”Iwhisper.“I’mso,sosorry.”
Sheburstsintotears.
Myheartiscrushedatthesound.
Thisismyfault.Thisisallmyfault.
TheonlythingIcanthinktodonowisfigureouthowtorectifyit.
Iturnhertowardmeandwrapmyarmsaroundher.“I’lltellthemyoudon’tfeelwellandyoucan’tgotoschooltoday.IwantyoutostayhereuntilIgetback.”
Shedoesn’tevennod.Shecontinuestocry,soIpickherupandcarryhertothebed.Igobacktothebathroomandpackageupthetest,thenhideitunderneaththesinkintheveryback.Irushtomyroomandchangeclothes.
Ileave.
I’mgonemostoftheday.
I’mrectifying.
WhenIfinallypullbackupourdriveway,IstillhavealmostanhourbeforemyfatherandLisaareduehome.Igrabeverythingfrommyfrontseatandrushinsidetocheckonher.Ileftmyphonebehindinmyrushthismorning,soIhaven’thadawaytocheckonheratall,andI’dbelyingifIsaiditwasn’tkillingme.
Igoinside.
Igotoherdoor.
Iattempttoturnit,butit’slocked.
Iknock.
“Rachel?”
Ihearmovement.Somethingcrashesagainstthedoor,andIjumpback.WhenIrealizewhat’shappened,Istepforwardagainandbangonthedoor.“Rachel!”Iyell,frantic.“Openthedoor!”
Ihearhercrying.“Goaway!”
Itaketwostepsback,thenlungeforwardandshovemyshoulderagainstthedoorashardasIcan.Thedoorfliesopen,andIrushinside.Racheliscurledupagainsttheheadboard,cryingintoherhands.Ireachher.
Shepushesmeaway.
Iwalkbacktoher.
Sheslapsme,thenscootsoffthebed.Shestandsup,shovingmeback,pushingherpalmsagainstmychest.“Ihateyou!”shescreamsthroughhertears.Igrabherhandsandtrytocalmherdown.Itmakesherangrier.“Justleave!”sheyells.“Ifyoudon’twantanythingtodowithme,justleave!”
Herwordsstunme.
“Rachel,stop,”Iplead.“I’mhere.I’mnotgoinganywhere.”
Hertearscomehardernow.Shescreamsatme.ShesaysIlefther.Iputherinbedthismorning,andIleftherbecauseIcouldn’thandleit.Iwasdisappointedinher.
Iloveyou,Rachel.MorethanIlovemyself.
“Baby,no,”Itellher,pullinghertome.“Ididn’tleaveyou.ItoldyouIwascomingback.”
Ihatethatshedidn’tunderstandwhyIlefttoday.
IhatethatIdidn’texplainittoher
Iwalkherbacktothebed,andIpositionheragainsttheheadboard.“Rachel,”Isay,touchinghertear-stainedcheek,“I’mnotdisappointedinyou,”Itellher.“Notintheleast.I’mdisappointedinmyself.WhichiswhyIwanttodoeverythingIpossiblycantoturnthisaroundforyou.Forus.That’swhatI’vebeendoingtoday.I’vebeentryingtofindawaytomakethisbetterforus.”
Istandupandgrabthefolders,thenspreadthemoutonthebed.Ishowhereverything.IshowherthebrochuresforfamilyhousingIpickedupfromcampus.Ishowhertheformsweneedtofilloutforfreecampuschildcare.Ishowherthefinancialaidbrochuresandthenightclassesandtheonlinecoursereviewandtheacademicadviserlistandhowitwillallcoordinatewithmyflight-classschedule.Allthepossibilitiesarespreadoutbeforeher,andIwanthertoseethateventhoughwedidn’twantthis,eventhoughwedidn’tplanforthis…wecandothis.
“Iknowit’llbealotharderwithababy,Rachel.Iknowthat.Butit’snotimpossible.”
ShestaresdownateverythingI’velaidoutbeforeher.Iwatchherinsilenceuntilhershouldersbegintoshakeandshecovershermouthwithherhand.Shemeetsmygazeashugetearsspilloutofhereyes.Shecrawlsforwardandthrowsherarmsaroundmyneck.
Shetellsmeshelovesme.
Youlovemesomuch,Rachel.
Shekissesmeoverandover.
“We’vegotthis,Miles,”shewhispersagainstmyear.
Inodandhugherback.“We’vegotthis,Rachel.”chapternineteen
TATE
It’sThursday.
Gamenight.
Normally,thesoundoftheirThursday-nightgamegetsundermyskin.Tonightit’smusictomyears,knowingthatMilesshouldbehome.Ihavenoideawhattoexpectfromhimorthisarrangementwe’vegotgoingon.Ihaven’ttextedorspokentohiminthefivedayssincehe’sbeengone.
IknowthatwithasmuchasI’mthinkingabouthim,Ishouldn’tbedoingthis.Forsomethingthat’ssupposedtobeacasualthing,it’sfeltanythingbutcasual.Forme,it’sbeenextremelyinvolved.Intense,even.He’sprettymuchallI’vethoughtaboutsincethatnightintherain,andit’squitepatheticthatI’mreachingforthedoorknobtowalkinsidemyapartmentandmydamnhandisshaking,knowinghemightbeinthere.
Iopenthedoortotheapartment,andCorbinisthefirsttolookup.Henodsbutdoesn’tevensayhi.Ianwavesfromhisseatonthecouch,thenlooksbackattheTV.
Dillon’seyesroamupanddownmybody,andIdowhatIcantostopmyselffromrollingmyeyes.
Milesdoesn’tdoanything,becauseMilesisn’there.
Mywholebodysighsfromdisappointment.Idropmypurseontotheemptychairinthelivingroomandtellmyselfit’sagoodthingheisn’there,becauseI’vegotwaytoomuchhomeworktodoanyway.
“There’spizzainthefridge,”Corbinsays.
“Nice.”Iwalkintothekitchenandopenthecabinettoremoveaplate.Ihearfootstepsclosinginonme,andmyheartratekicksupanotch.
Ahandtouchesmeonmylowerback,andIimmediatelysmileandturnaroundtofaceMiles.
Onlyitisn’tMiles.It’sDillon.
“Hey,Tate,”hesays,reachingaroundmetothecabinet.Thehandthatfirsttouchedmylowerbackisstillonme,butnowthatI’veturnedtofacehim,hishandhasslidtomywaist.Hekeepshiseyeslockedwithmineashereachespastmeandopensthecabinet.“Justneedacupformybeer,”hesays,excusingthefactthathe’srighthere.Touchingme.Hisfaceonlyinchesfrommyface.
IhatethathesawmesmilingwhenIturnedaround.Ijustgavehimthewrongidea.
“Well,youwon’tfindacupinmypocket,”Isay,pushinghishandoffofme.IlookawayfromDillonjustasMilesstepsintothekitchen.HiseyesareburningholesintothepartofmethatDillonwasjusttouching.
MilessawDillon’shandonme.
MilesislookingatDillonnowasifhejustcommitted-murder.
“Sincewhendoyoudrinkbeerfromacup?”Milessays.
DillonturnsaroundandlooksatMiles,thenglancesbacktomeandsmilesaveryblatant,flirtatioussmile.“SinceTatewasstandingsoclosetothecabinet.”
Shit.He’snotevenhidingit.HethinksI’mintohim.
Mileswalkstotherefrigeratorandopensit.“SoDillon.How’syourwife?”
Milesdoesn’tmakeanattempttoremoveanything.He’sjuststandingthere,staringintotherefrigerator,withhisfingersgrippingthedoorhandleharderthanit’severbeengripped,I’msure.
Dillonisstilllookingatme,staringdownatme.“She’satwork,”hesayspointedly.“Foratleastfourmorehours.”
MilesslamstherefrigeratorandtakestwoquickstepstowardDillon.Dillonstandsupstraight,andIimmediatelyscoottwofeetawayfromhim.“Corbinspecificallyinstructedyoutokeepyourhandsoffhissister.Showhimsomefuckingrespect!”
Dillon’sjawtwitches,andhedoesn’tbackdownorlookawayfromMiles.Infact,hetakesasteptowardhim,closingthespacebetweenthem.“Soundstomelikethisisn’treallyaboutCorbin,”Dillonsays,seething.
Myheartispoundinginmychest.IfeelguiltythatIgaveDillonthewrongideaandevenguiltierthatthey’rearguingaboutitnow.Butdammit,IlovethatMileshateshimsomuch.IjustwishIknewifitwasbecausehedoesn’tlikethatDillonisflirtingwhenhe’sgotawifeathomeorifhedoesn’tlikethatDillonisflirtingwithme.
AndnowCorbinisstandinginthedoorway.
Shit.
“Whatisn’treallyaboutme?”Corbinasks,watchingthetwoofthemintheirstandoff.
MilesbacksupastepandturnssothathecanfaceDillonandCorbinatthesametime.HiseyesremainlockedhardwithDillon’s.“He’stryingtofuckyoursister.”
JesusChrist,Miles.Everhearofsugarcoating?
Corbindoesn’tevenflinch.“Gohometoyourwife,Dillon,”hesaysfirmly.
Asembarrassingasthisis,Idon’tdoanythingtostepinanddefendDillon,becauseIgetthefeelingthatMilesandCorbinhavebeenlookingforanexcusetodefriendhimforawhilenow.Iwouldalsoneverdefendamanwhohasnorespectforhismarriage.DillonstaresatCorbinforseveralpainstakinglylongseconds,thenturnstofacemewithhisbacktobothMilesandCorbin.
Thisboyseriouslyhasadeathwish.
“Iliveinten-twelve,”hewhisperswithawink.“Stopbysometime.Sheworksweeknights.”HeturnsawayandwalksbetweenCorbinandMiles.“Thetwoofyoucangofuckyourselves.”
Corbinturns,andhisfistsareclenched.HebeginstostalkafterDillon,butMilesgrabshisarmandpullshimbackintothekitchen.Hedoesn’treleaseCorbin’sarmuntilthefrontdoorslamsshut.
Corbinturnstofaceme,andhelookssoangryI’msurprisedsteamisn’tcomingfromhisears.Hisfaceisred,andhe’spoppinghisknuckles.Iforgothowinsanelyprotectiveheisofme.IfeellikeI’mfifteenagain,onlynowIsuddenlyhavetwooverprotectivebrothers.
“Erasethatapartmentnumberfromyourhead,Tate,”Corbinsays.
Ishakemyhead,somewhatdisappointedthathewouldeventhinkI’dwanttorememberDillon’sapartmentnumber.“Ihavestandards,Corbin.”
Henods,buthe’sstillmakinganattempttocalmhimselfdown.Heinhalesadeepbreath,popshisjaw,thenwalksbackintothelivingroom.
Milesisleaningagainstthecounter,staringdownathisfeet.Iwatchhimsilentlyuntilhefinallyraiseshiseyesandlooksupatme.Heglancestowardthelivingroom,thenkicksoffthecounterandwalkstowardme.Everystepcloserhetakes,themoreIpressmyselfintothecounterbehindme,makinganattempttobackawayfromtheintensityinhiseyes,eventhoughIcan’tverywellgoanywhere.
Hereachesme.
Hesmellsgood.Likeapples.Forbiddenfruit
“Askmeifyoucanstudyatmyplace,”hewhispers.
Inod,wonderingwhyinthehellhewouldmakesucharandomrequestaftereverythingthatjusthappened.Idoitanyway,though.“CanIstudyatyourplace?”
Hebreaksoutintoahugegrinanddropshisforeheadtothesideofmyheadsothathislipsaredirectlyovermyear.“Imeantforyoutoaskmeinfrontofyourbrother,”hesays,laughingquietly.“SoIhaveanexcusetogetyouoverthere.”
Well,that’sembarrassing.
NowheknowsexactlyhowmuchI’mnotTatewhenI’mnearhim.I’monlyliquid.Conforming.Doingwhatheasks,doingwhatI’mtold,doingwhathewantsmetodo.
“Oh,”IsayquietlyasIwatchhimeaseawayfromme.“Thatmakesalotmoresense.”
He’sstillsmiling,andIdidn’trealizehowmuchImissedseeingthatsmile.Heshouldsmileallthetime.ForeverAtme.
Hewalksoutofthekitchenandheadsbacktothelivingroom,soIgotomyroomandshowerinrecordtime.
???
Ididn’trealizeIwassuchagoodactress.
Ihadpractice,though.Fiveminutesofpractice.Istoodinmyroom,tryingtothinkofthebest,mostcasuallineforwhenIwalkedintothelivingroomtoaskMilesforhiskey.Idecidedtowaituntilaparticularlyloudmomentduringthegame,andthenIburstoutoftheroomandyelledatallofthem.
“YouguyseitherneedtomutethedamnTVorgowatchitnextdoor,becauseI’mtryingtostudy!”
Mileslookedatmeandtriedtohidehissmile.Ianlookedatmewithsuspicion,andCorbinrolledhiseyes.“Yougonextdoor,”Corbinsaid.“We’rewatchingthegame.”HelookedatMiles.“Shecanuseyourplace,right?”
Milesstoodupimmediatelyandsaid,“Sure.I’llletherin.”
Igrabbedmythings,followedhimoutofmyapartment,andnowhereweare.
Milesopenshisapartmentdoorforme,eventhoughitisn’tlocked.Corbindoesn’tknowthat,though.Hewalksinside,andIslipinbehindhim.Heshutsthedoor,andweturnandfaceeachother.
“Ireallydohavehomework,”Isay.Idon’tknowwhathe’sexpectingtohappenrightthissecond,butIfeellikeIneedtolethimknowthatjustbecauseheshowsupafterafewdaysaway,thatdoesn’tmeanhe’smynumberonepriority.
Eventhoughheprettymuchis.
“Ireallydohaveagametowatch,”hesays,pointingoverhisshoulderatmyapartmentbutwalkingtowardmeatthesametime.Hetakesmybooksoutofmyhandsandwalkswiththemtothetable,wherehesetsthemdown.Hestartswalkingbacktowardmeanddoesn’tstopuntilhislipsarepressedtomineandwecan’twalkanyfartherbecausemybackisagainsttheapartmentdoor.
Hishandsaregrippingmywaist,andminearegrippinghisshoulders.Histongueslidesbetweenmylipsandintomymouth,andItakeit,verywillingly.Hegroansandpresseshimselfagainstmeasmyhandsslideuphisneckandthroughhishair.Hepullsawayjustasfastandstepsbackseveralfeet.
He’slookingatmelikeit’ssomehowmyfaultthathehastoleave.Herunstwofrustratedpalmsdownhisfaceandreleasesadeepbreath.“Youdidn’tgettoeatearlier,”hesays.“I’llbringyousomepizza.”Hewalksbacktowardme,andIstepasidewithoutresponding.Heopensthedooranddisappears
He’ssoweird.
IwalktothetableandbegintolayeverythingoutthatIneedinordertostudy.I’mpullingoutmychairtositwhenhisapartmentdoorfliesopenagain.Iturnaround,andhe’swalkingtowardthekitchenwithaplateinhishands.Heputsthepizzainhismicrowave,pressesafewbuttonsandstartsit,andthenheadsstraighttowardme.He’sdoingthatintimidatingthingagainthatmakesmenaturallybackawayfromhim,buthistableisbehindme,andIcan’tgoanywhere.
Hereachesmeandquicklypresseshislipstomine.“Ihavetogobackoverthere,”hesays.“Yougood?”
Inod.
“Youneedanything?”
Ishakemyhead.
“There’sjuiceandbottledwaterinthefridge.”
“Thanks.”
Hekissesmebrieflyagainbeforehereleasesmeandwalksoutthedoor.
Ifallintomychair.
He’ssonice.
Icouldgetusedtothis.
Ipullmynotebookinfrontofmeandbeginstudying.Abouthalfanhourpasses,andthenIgetatextfromhim.
Miles:How’sthehomeworkgoing?
I’mreadingthetextonmyphone,smilinglikeanidiot.Hegoesninedayswithoutseeingortextingme,andnowhe’stextingmefromtwentyfeetaway.
Me:Good.How’sthegamegoing?
Miles:Halftime.We’relosing.
Me:Bummer.
Miles:YouknewIdidn’thavecable.
Me:???
Miles:Earlier,whenyouyelledatus.Youtoldustogotomyplacetowatchthegame,butyoualreadyknewIdidn’thavecable.IthinkIan’ssuspiciousnow.
Me:Oh,no.Ididn’tthinkaboutthat.
Miles:It’scool.He’sjustgivingmelooks,likeheknowssomethingisup.Honestly,Idon’tcareifheknows.Heknowseverythingelseaboutme.
Me:I’msurprisedyoudidn’ttellhimalready.Don’tallguyskissandtell?
Miles:Notme,Tate.
Me:Iguessyou’retheexception.Nowleavemealone,Ihavetostudy.
Miles:Don’tcomebackuntilIcometellyouthegameisover.
Ilaymyphonedownonthetable,unabletowipethegrinfrommyface.
???
Anhourlater,thedoortohisapartmentopens.Ilookup,andhewalksin,shutsthedoor,andcasuallyfallsagainstit.“Game’sover,”hesays.
Idropmypen.“Perfecttiming.Ijustfinishedmyhomework.”
Hiseyesfalltomybooks,spreadoutacrossthetable.“Corbin’sprobablyexpectingyou.”
Idon’tknowifthat’shiswayoftellingmeIshouldleaveorifhe’sjustmakingconversation.Istandupanywayandbegintogathermybooks,attemptingtohidethedisappointmentonmyface.
Hewalksstraighttomeandtakesthebooksoutofmyhands,settingthembackdown.Hegivesthemashove,slidingthemafootaway,andthenhegrabsmywaistandpushesmeontothetable.
“Thatdoesn’tmeanIwantyoutoleave,”hesaysfirmly,lookingmehardintheeyes.
Idon’tsmilethistime,becausehejustmademenervousagain.Everytimehelooksatmewiththismuchintensity,Igetnervous.
Heslidesmetotheveryedgeofthetableandstandsbetweenmylegs.Hishandsarestillonmywaist,buthislipsarenowonmyjaw.“Iwasthinking,”hesayssoftly,hisbreathcaressingmyneck,coveringmeinchills.“Abouttonightandhowyou’vebeeninclassallday.”Heslideshishandsbeneathme,liftingmeoffthetable.“Andhowyouworkallweekend,everyweekend.”Mylegsarewrappedaroundhimnow.He’scarryingmetohisbedroom.
Nowhe’slayingmeonhisbed.
Nowhe’sontopofme,brushingmyhairback,lookingmeintheeyes.“AndIrealizedthatyouneverhaveadayoff.”Hismouthisbacktomyjawagain,kissingitsoftlybetweeneachsentence.“Youhaven’thadadayoffsinceThanksgiving,haveyou?”
Ishakemyhead,notunderstandingwhyhe’stalkingsomuchbutlovingitjustthesame.Hishandslidesupundermyshirt,andhispalmmeetsmystomach,continuingupwarduntilhe’scuppingmybreast.“Youmustbereallytired,Tate.”
Ishakemyhead.“Notreally.”
I’mlying.
I’mexhausted.
Hislipsleavemyneck,andhelooksmeintheeyes.“You’relying,”hesays,brushinghisthumboverthethinlayerofbracoveringmynipple.“Icantellyou’retired.”Helowershismouthuntilit’spressedagainstminesosoftlyIbarelyevenfeelit.“Ijustwanttokissyouforafewminutes,okay?Thenyou’regoingtoleaveandgogetsomerest.Idon’twantyoutothinkIexpectsomethingjustbecausewe’rebothhome.”
Hismouthtouchesmineagain,buthislipscan’tcomparetowhathiswordsdotome.Ineverknewthoughtfulnesscouldbesuchaturn-on.
Butoh,myGod.It’ssohot.
Hishandslidesbeneathmybra,andhismouthinvadesme.Everytimehistonguecaressesmine,itmakesmyheadspin.Iwonderifthatwillevergetold.
Iknowhesaidhejustwantedtokissmeforafewminutes,buthisdefinitionofkissandmydefinitionofkissarewrittenintwodifferentlanguages.Hismouthiseverywhere.
Soarehishands.
Hepushesmyshirtupabovemybra,pullingonesideofitdownuntilmybreastisexposed.Heteasesmewithhistongue,lookingupatmewhilehedoesit.Hismouthiswarm,andhistongueisevenwarmer,causingsoftwhimperstoescapefromme.
Herunshishanddownmystomachandliftsslightlyoffofme,holdinghisweightuponhiselbow.Hishandtrailsovermyjeansuntilhereachestheinsidesofmythighs.Herunshisfingersagainstthematerialbetweenmylegs,andIletmyheadfallbackandmyeyesclose.
GoodLord,Ilovehisversionofkissing.
Hebeginstorubhishandoverme,pressingfirmlyagainstmyjeansuntilmyentirebodyissilentlybeggingforhim.Hismouthisnolongeronmybreast.It’sonmynecknow,andhe’skissing,nibbling,sucking,allinonespot,asifhe’stryingtobrandme.
I’mtryingtobequiet,butit’simpossiblewhenhe’screatingthisamazingfrictionbetweenus.Butthat’sfine,becausehe’snotbeingquiet,either.EverytimeImoan,hegroansorsighsorwhispersmyname.WhichiswhyI’mbeingsoloud,becauseIlovehissounds.
Lovethem.
Hishandquicklymovestothebuttononmyjeans,andheunbuttonsthem,buthedoesn’tswitchpositionsormoveawayfrommyneck.Hepullsmyzipperdownandslideshishandsontopofmypanties.Heresumesthesamemovements,onlythistimethey’reamilliontimesmoreintense,andIcaninstantlytellheisn’tgoingtohavetodoitformuchlonger.
Mybackarchesoffthebed,andittakesallIhavenottopullawayfromhishand.It’sasifheknowsexactlytherightplacestotouchthatwillmakemereact.
“Christ,Tate.You’resowet.”Twoofhisfingerspullmypantiesaside.“Iwanttofeelyou.”
Andthat’sit.
I’magoner.
Hisfingerslipsinsideme,buthisthumbremainsoutside,coaxingmoansandoh,myGodsanddon’tstopsoutofmelikeI’mabrokenrecord.Hekissesme,swallowingallmysoundswhilemybodybeginstotremblebeneathhishand.
ThesensationlastssolongandissointenseI’mafraidtoletgoofhimwhenit’sover.Idon’twanthishandtoleaveme.Iwanttofallasleeplikethis.
I’mcompletelystill,butwe’rebothbreathingsoheavilywe’reunabletomove.Hismouthisstillonmine,andoureyesareclosed,buthe’snotkissingme.Afterafewmoments,hefinallypullshishandoutofmypants,thenzipsandbuttonsthembackup.WhenIopenmyeyes,he’sslowlyslidinghisfingersoutofhismouthwithagrin.
Holyshit.
I’msogladI’mnotstandinguprightnow,orseeinghimdothatwouldhavemademefallstraighttothefloor.
“Wow,”IsayasIexhale.“You’reprettydamngoodatthis.”
Hesmilesevenwider.“Why,thankyou,”hesays.Heleansforwardandkissesmyforehead.“Now,gohomeandgetsomesleep,girl.”
Hebeginstoliftoffthebed,andIgrabhisarmsandpullhimbackdown.“Wait,”Itellhim.Ipushhimontohisbackandslideontopofhim.“That’snotreallyfairtoyou.”
“I’mnotkeepingscore,”hesays,rollingmeontomyback.“Corbin’sprobablywonderingwhyyou’restilloverhere.”Hestandsupandgrabsmywriststopullmeupwithhim.Hepullsmeagainsthimcloseenoughformetotellheisn’tatallreadyformetoleaveyet.
“IfCorbinsaysanything,I’lljusttellhimIdidn’twanttoleaveuntilIwasfinishedwithmyhomework.”
Milesshakeshishead.“Youneedtogoback,Tate,”hesays.“HethankedmeforprotectingyoufromDillonearlier.Howdoyouthinkhe’dfeelifheknewIonlydidthatbecauseIwasbeingselfishandwantedyoualltomyself?”
Ishakemyhead.“Idon’tcarehowhe’dfeel.It’snothisbusiness.”
Milesbringshishandstomycheeks.“Icare.He’smyfriend.Idon’twanthimtofindoutwhatahypocriteIam.”HekissesmyforeheadandpullsmeoutofthebedroombeforeIcanrespond.HegathersmybooksandhandsthemtomewhenIreachthefrontdoor,butbeforeIwalkout,hegrabsmyelbowandstopsme.He’sstaringdownatme,butthere’ssomethingelseinhisexpressionthistime.
Somethinginhiseyesthatisn’tdesireorwantordisappointmentorintimidation.It’ssomethingunspoken.Somethinghewantstosaytomethathe’stooafraidtosay.
Hishandscupmycheeks,andhepresseshismouthtominesohardIhittheframeofthedoorbehindme.
HekissesmesopossessivelyanddesperatelyitwouldmakemesadifonlyIdidn’tloveitsomuch.Heinhalesdeeplyandpullsaway,exhalingslowly,staringmehardintheeyes.Hedropshishandandstepsback,waitingformetostepintothehallwaybeforehecloseshisdoor.
Ihavenoideawhatthatwas,butIneedmoreofit.
Isomehowmakemylegsmove,andIwalkintoCorbin’sapartment.Corbinisn’tinthelivingroom,soIsetmybooksdownonthecounter.
IhearCorbin’sshowerrunning.
Corbin’sintheshower.
Iimmediatelywalkoutthedoorandbackacrossthehallandknock.Hisdoorswingsopensoquicklyit’sasifMileswasstillstandinginthesamespot.Heglancesovermyshoulderatmyapartmentdoor.
“Corbin’sintheshower,”Isay.
Mileslooksbackatme,andbeforeIthinkheevenhastimetoprocessmywords,he’spullingmeinsidehisapartment.Heslamsthedoorshutandshovesmeagainstit,andonceagain,hismouthiseverywhere.
Iwastenotime,unbuttoninghisjeansandpullingthemdownseveralinches.Hishandstakeoverandpullmypantsdowncompletely,alongwithmyunderwear.Assoonasheslidesmyfeetoutofthem,he’surgingmetowardhiskitchentable.Hespinsmearound,positioningmeuntilI’mleaningacrossthetableonmystomach.
Hereachesbetweenmylegs,spreadingthemfartherapartwhilefreeinghimselffromhisjeans.Bothofhishandsmovetomywaistandgriptightly.Hesteadieshimselfagainstmeandthencarefullyeaseshimselfinsideme.“Oh,God,”hegroans.
Ipressmypalmsflatoutonthetable.There’snothingtograbholdof,andIdesperatelyneedtograbsomething.
Heleansforward,pressinghischestagainstmyback.Hisbreathsareheavyandhotandcrashingagainstmyskin.“Ihavetogetacondom.”
“Okay,”Ibreatheout.
Hehasn’tbackedawayyet,though,andmybodynaturallywantstotakehimintherestoftheway.Ipressmyselfagainsthim,pushinghimfurtherinsideme,causinghimtodighisfingersintomyhipssohardIwince.
“Don’t,Tate.”
Hisvoiceisawarning.
Oradare.
Idoitagain,andhegroans,quicklypullingoutofmecompletely.Hishandsarestilldiggingintomyhips,andhe’sstillpressedagainstme—he’sjustnolongerinsideme.
“I’monthepill,”Iwhisper.
Hedoesn’tmove.
Iclosemyeyes,needinghimtodosomething.Anything.I’mdyinghere.
“Tate,”hewhispers.Hedoesn’tfollowitupwithanything.Westandquietlystill,withhiminthesameposition,poisedrightoutsideme.
“Dammit.”Hereleasesmywaistandfindsmyhandspalms-downonthetable.Heslideshisfingersthroughmineandsqueezes,thenburieshisfaceagainstmyneckfrombehindme.“Braceyourself.”
HeslamsintomesounexpectedlyIscream.Oneofhishandsleavesmine,andhebringsittomymouthandcoversit.“Shh,”hewarns.Heholdsstill,givingmeamomenttoadjusttohiminsideme.
Hepullsoutwithamoanandslamsintomeagain,causingmetoyelloutoncemore.Hishandmufflesmynoisesthistime.
Herepeatshismovements.
Harder.
Faster.
He’sgruntingwitheverythrust,andI’mmakingnoisesIdidn’tevenknowIcouldmake.I’veneverexperiencedanythinglikethisbefore.
Ididn’tknowitcouldbethisintense.Thisraw.Thisanimalistic.
Ilowermyfaceandpressmycheekagainstthetable.
Isqueezemyeyesshut.
Ilethimfuckme.
???
It’squiet.
It’ssoquiet,andIdon’tknowifit’sbecausewewerebothsoloudjustafewsecondsagoorifhejustneedsaminutetorecover.
He’sstillinsideme,buthe’sfinished.He’sjustnotmoving.Oneofhishandsisstillcoveringmymouth,theotherstillsqueezingmyfingers.Hisfaceisstillburiedagainstmyneck.
Buthe’ssoincrediblystillI’mafraidtomove.Idon’tevenfeelhimbreathing.
Thefirstthingtomoveishishand,awayfrommymouth.Heunlockshisfingersfrommineandstraightensthem,pullingthemslowlyapartfrommine.Hepressesbothpalmsagainstthetableandliftshisfaceawayfrommyneck.Hepullsoutofmewithoutasound.
It’sstilltooquiet,soIdon’tmove
Ihearhimashepullshispantsbackintopositionandzipsthem.
Ihearhisfootstepsashewalksaway.
He’swalkingaway.
Hisbedroomdoorslamsshut,andIflinch.Mycheekandpalmsandstomacharestillflatagainsthistable,butnowsoaremytears.
They’refalling.
Falling,falling,falling,andIcan’tstopthem.
I’membarrassed.I’mashamed.Idon’thaveacluewhatthehelliswrongwithhim,butIhavetoomuchprideandtoolittlecouragetogofindout.
Thisfeltlikeanend.I’mnotsureIwasreadyforthistobetheend.I’mnotsureIwasreadyforthereevertobeanend,andIhatemyselfforallowingmyfeelingstogettothatpoint.
I’malsoangrybecausehereIam,standinginhisapartment,lookingformypants,tryingtostopmyridiculoustears,stillfeelingtheremnantsofhimslidingdownmyleg,andIhavenofuckingcluewhyhehadtoruinit.
Ruinme.
Ifinishgettingdressed,andIleave.chaptertwenty
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
“You’regettinganoutie,”Itellher.Irunmyfingersoverherbarestomach,andIkissit.“It’scute.”
Ipressmyeartoherskinandclosemyeyes.“Ibethe’slonelyinthere,”Isay.“Areyoulonelyinthere,buddy?”
Rachellaughs.“Youkeepcallinghimaboy.Whatifhe’sagirl?”
ItellRachelwhateverheis,I’lllovehimthesame.Ialreadylovehim.
Orher.
Ourparentsareoutoftown.We’replayinghouseagain,exceptthistime,wearen’treallyplaying.It’skindofserious.
“Sowhathappensifhereallydoesproposetoherthistime?”sheasks.
Itellhernottoworry.Itellherhe’snotproposing.Hewouldaskmefirstbeforehedidit.Iknowthatmuchabouthim.
“Wehavetotellthem,”Isaytoher.
Shenods.Sheknowswehavetotellthem.It’sbeenthreemonths.Wegraduateintwo.She’sstartingtoshow.
She’sgettinganoutie.It’scute.
“Weshouldtellthemtomorrow,”Isay
Shesaysokay.
Imoveawayfromherstomachandliebesideher.Ipullheragainstme.Itouchherface.
“Iloveyou,Rachel,”Itellher.
She’snotasscarednow.Shetellsmeshelovesme,too.
“You’redoingagoodjob,”Isay.Shedoesn’tknowwhatI’mtalkingabout,soIgrinandtouchherstomach.“You’redoingagoodjobgrowinghim.I’mprettysureyou’regonnagrowthebestbabyanywomanhasevergrown.”
Shelaughsatmysilliness.
Youlovemesomuch,Rachel.
Ilookather—atthegirlIgavemyheartto—andIwonderhowIgotsolucky
IwonderwhyshelovesmejustasmuchasIloveher.
Iwonderwhatmydadisgoingtosaywhenhefindsoutaboutus.
IwonderifLisawillhateme.Iwonderifshe’llwanttotakeRachelbacktoPhoenix.
IwonderhowIcanconvincethemthatwe’vegotthis.
“Whatarewegoingtonamehim?”Iaskher.
She’sexcitedwhenIaskherthis.Shelikestalkingaboutnames.
Shesaysifit’sagirl,shewantstonameherClaire.Afterhergrandmother.
ItellherIwishIknewhergrandmother.Iwanttoknowthewomanmydaughterwillbenamedafter.Shetellsmehergrandmotherwouldhavelovedme.ItellherIlovethenameClaire.
“Whatifhe’saboy?”Iask.
“Youcanpicktheboyname,”shesays
Itellherthat’salotofpressure.Itellherhe’llhavetolivewithhisnametherestofhislife.Shesays,“Thenyou’dbetterpickagoodone.”
I’dbetterpickagoodone.
“Onethatmeanssomethingtoyou,”shesays.
Onethatmeanssomethingtome.
ItellherIhavetheperfectnameforhim.
Shewantstoknowwhatitis.ItellherI’mnottellingher.I’lltellherhisnameafteritbecomeshisname.
Afterhe’sborn.
ShetellsmeI’minsane.Shesayssherefusestogivebirthtoourbabyuntilsheknowshisname.
Ilaugh.Itellhershehasnochoice.
ShetellsmeI’mcrazy.
Youlovethataboutme,Rachel.chaptertwenty-one
TATE
Iworkedallweekend,soIhaven’tseenorspokentoMilessinceThursdaynight.Ikeeptellingmyselfit’sforthebest,butitsureashelldoesn’tfeellikeitwiththewayI’vebeenlettingiteatatme.TonightisMonday,andit’sthefirstofthreedayswhenCorbinwon’tbehomeandMileswillbe.IknowheknowsCorbinisgone,butbasedonthewayheleftthingsThursday,Idoubthecaresmuch.IhalfexpectedthathewouldeventuallyexplainifIdidsomethingwrongoratleasttellmewhatupsethimsomuch,butthelastIgotfromhimwastheslamofhisbedroomdoorafterhewalkedaway.
Icanseewhyhehasn’tbeeninarelationshipforsixyears.He’sobviouslycluelesswhenitcomestohowaguyshouldtreatagirl,whichsurprisesme,becauseIgetthesevibesfromhimthathe’sreallyadecentguy.However,hisactionsduringandaftersexseemtocontradicthischaracter.It’sasifpiecesoftheguyheusedtobebleedoverintotheguyhe’stryingtobe.
Ifanyothermanevertreatedmelikehedid,itwouldbetheoneandonlytime.Idon’tputupwiththethingsI’veseenalotofmyfriendsputupwith.However,Ifindmyselfcontinuingtomakeexcusesforhim,likesomethingcouldactuallyjustifyhisactionslastweek.
I’mbeginningtofearthatmaybeI’mnotsotoughafterall.
ThatfearisimmediatelyconfirmedwiththeskipofmyheartassoonasIstepofftheelevator.There’sanotetapedtomyapartmentdoor,soIrushtoitandpullitdown.It’sjustafoldedpieceofpaperwithoutanythingwrittenontheoutsideofit.Iopenit:Ineedtorunanerrand.I’llstopbyatsevenifyouwanttocomewithme.Ireadthenoteseveraltimes.It’sobviouslyfromhim,andit’sobviouslyforme,butthenotereadssoincrediblycasualthatforasecond,IbegintodoubtthatThursdayevenhappened.
Hewasthere,though.Heknowshowthatnightendedbetweenus.HeknowsImustbeupsetorangry,butnothinginhisnoterevealsthatatall.
IunlockmydoorandwalkinsidebeforeIcanworkmyselfuptothepointofbeatingonhisdoortoscreamathim.
IdropmythingsonceI’minsidemyapartmentandreadthenoteonemoretime,dissectingeverythingfromhishandwritingdowntohisselectionofwords.Iwaditupinmyhandsandthrowittowardthekitchen,completelypissedoff.
I’mpissedbecauseIalreadyknowI’llbegoingwithhim.
Idon’tknowhownotto.
???
There’sasoftknockonthedooratexactlyseveno’clock.Hispunctualitypissesmeoff,andthere’snoreasonforit.Ihavenothingagainstpunctuality.IhaveafeelingeverysinglethingMilesdoestonightisgoingtopissmeoff.
Iwalktothefrontdoorandopenit.
He’sstandinginthehallway,severalfeetaway.He’sprobablyclosertohisdoorthantomine,actually.He’slookingdownathisfeetwhenIopenthedoor,butheeventuallyliftshiseyestomeetmine.Hishandsaretuckedawayinhisjacketpocketsagain,andhedoesn’tlifthisheadallthewayup.Itakethisasasignofsubmissionfromhim,eventhoughit’smorethanlikelynot.
“Wanttocome?”
Hisvoiceinvadesme.Weakensme.Turnsmeintoliquidagain.InodasIstepoutintothehallandclosethedoorbehindme.Ilockitandturnaroundtofacehim.Henodshisheadtowardtheelevators,silentlytellingmehe’llfollowbehindme.Itrytoreadtheexpressioninhiseyes,butIshouldknowbetter.
Iwalktowardtheelevatorandpressthedownbutton.
Hestandsnexttome,butneitherofusspeaks.Ittakestheelevatorwhatseemslikeyearstogettous.Whenitfinallyopens,webothbreatheaquietsighofrelief,butassoonaswe’reinsideandthedoorsclose,neitherofuscanbreatheagain.
Icanfeelhimwatchingme,butIdon’tlookathim.
Ican’t.
Ifeelstupid.IfeellikeIwanttocryagain.NowthatI’mhereandIhavenoideawherewe’regoing,Ifeellikeafoolforallowinghimtoevengetmethisfar.
“I’msorry.”Hisvoiceisweak,butit’salsosurprisingly-sincere.
Idon’tlookathim.Idon’tevenrespond.
Hetakesthreestepsacrosstheelevator,andthenhereachesdownbesidemeandpressestheemergencystopbutton.Hisfingerlingersonthebuttonashewatchesme,butIkeepmyeyesdown.Myfaceislevelwithhischest,butmyjawistense,andIwon’tlookupathim
Iwon’t.
“Tate,I’msorry,”herepeats.He’sstillnottouchingme,buthe’sinvadingagain.He’sstandingsoclosetomeIcanfeelhisbreathandhimandhowmuchhereallyissorry,butIdon’tevenknowwhatI’msupposedtobeforgivinghimfor.Heneverpromisedanythingotherthansex,andthat’sexactlywhathegaveme.
Sex.
Nothinglessanddefinitelynothingmore.
“I’msorry,”hesaysagain.“Youdidn’tdeservethat.”
Thistime,hetouchesmychin,liftingmyeyestomeethis.Thefeelofhisfingersonmyfacecausesmyjawtogrowevenmoretense.I’mdoingeverythingIcantokeepupmyarmor,becauseI’mfindingithardtofightbackmytears
ThesamethingIsawinhiseyeswhenhekissedmeathisdoorThursdaynightisback.Somethingunspokenthathewisheshecouldsay,buttheonlywordsthatcomeoutofhismoutharehisapologies.
Hewincesasthoughhe’sexperiencingactualphysicalpain,andhepresseshisforeheadtomine.“I’msorry.”
Hepresseshispalmsagainsttheelevatorwallandleansintomeuntilourchestsaretouching.Myarmsareatmysides,andmyeyesareclosed,andasmuchasIfeellikecryingrightnow,Irefusetodoitinfrontofhim.I’mstillnotsurewhathe’sapologizingforspecifically,butitdoesn’tmatter,becauseitsoundslikehe’sapologizingforeverything.Forstartingsomethingwithmethatweknewwouldn’tendwell.Fornotbeingabletoopenupabouthispast.Fornotbeingabletoopenupabouthisfuture.Forruiningmewhenhewalkedintohisbedroomandslammedhisdoor.
Oneofhishandswrapsaroundthesideofmyhead,andhepullsmeagainsthim.Hisotherhanddropstomyback,andhesqueezesme,pressinghischeekagainstthetopofmyhead.“Idon’tknowwhatthisis,Tate,”heconfesses.“ButIswear,Ididn’tmeantohurtyou.Ijustdon’tknowwhatthehellI’mdoing.”
Theapologyinhisvoiceisenoughtomakemyarmswanttoholdhim.Ibringthemupandgrabthesleevesofhisshirt,thenpressmyfaceintohischest.Westandlikethisforseveralminutes,bothofuscompletelylost.Completelynewtothis.
Completelyconfused.
Heeventuallyreleasesmeandhitsthebuttontotakeustothegroundfloor.Istillhaven’tspoken,becauseI’mnotevensurewhatwordstouseinthissituation.Whentheelevatordoorsopen,hetakesmyhandinhisandholdsitallthewaytohiscar.Heopensmydoorandwaitsformetoclimbinside,thenclosesitandwalksaroundtohisside
I’veneverbeeninsidehiscarbefore.
I’msurprisedbythesimplicityofit.IknowCorbinmakesadecentamountofmoneyandusuallylikestospenditonnicethings.
Thiscarisunderstated,justlikeMiles.
Heexitstheparkinggarage,andwedriveinsilenceforseveralmiles.I’mtiredofthequietandtiredofthecuriosity,sothefirstthingIsaytohimsinceheruinedmeis,“Wherearewegoing?”
It’sasifmyvoicemakestheawkwardnesscompletelydisintegrate,becauseheexhaleslikehe’srelievedtohearit
“Totheairport,”hesays.“Notforwork,though.Igotheresometimestowatchtheplanestakeoff.”
Hereachesacrosstheconsoleandtakesmyhandinhis.It’scomfortingandscaryallatonce.Hishandsarewarm,anditmakesmewanthimtoholdmyentirebodyinthem,butitscaresmehowmuchIwantthat.
It’scompletelyquietagainuntilwereachtheairport.Therearerestricted-accesssigns,buthepassesthemlikeheknowsexactlywherehe’sgoing.Wefinallypullintoaparkinglotoverlookingtherunway.
Severaljetsarelinedup,waitingtotakeoff.Hepointstotheleft,andIlook,justasoneoftheplanesbeginstoaccelerate.Hiscarfillswiththesoundoftheenginesasitzoomspastus.Webothwatchitmakeitsascent,untilthelandinggeardisappearsandtheplaneisswallowedupbythenight.
“Youcomeherealot?”IaskhimwhileIcontinuetostareoutmywindow.
Helaughs,sonaturally,Iturntofacehim.
“Thatsoundedlikeapickupline,”hesays,smiling.
Hissmilemakesmesmile.Hiseyesdroptomymouth,andmysmilemakeshissmiledisappear.
“Yeah,Ido,”hesaysashelooksouthiswindowagaintowatchthenextjetpreparefortakeoff.
Irealizeinthismomentthatthingsaren’tthesamebetweenus.Somethinghugechanged,andIcan’ttellifit’sgoodorbad.Hebroughtmeherebecausehewantstotalk.
Ijustdon’tknowwhathewantstotalkabout.
“Miles,”Isay,wantinghimtolookatmeagain.Hedoesn’t.
“It’snotfun,”hesaysquietly.“Thisthingwe’redoing.”
Idon’tlikethatsentence.Iwanthimtotakeitback,becauseitfeelslikeit’scuttingme.Buthe’sright.“Iknow,”Isay.
“Ifwedon’tstopnow,it’lljustgetworse.”
Idon’tverballyagreewithhimthistime.Iknowhe’sright,butIdon’twanttostop.Thethoughtofnotbeingwithhimagainmakesmystomachfeelhollow.“WhatdidIdotoupsetyousomuch?”
Hecutshiseyestomine,andIhardlyrecognizethemfromtheicebuiltupbehindthem.“Thatwasallme,Tate,”hesaysfirmly.“Don’tthinkforasecondthatmyissuesarebecauseofanythingyoudoordon’tdo.”
Ifindaslightamountofrelieffromhisanswerbutstillhavenoideawhatwentwrongwithhim.Wekeepoureyeslocked,waitingfortheothertofillthesilenceagain.
Ihavenoideawhathe’ssufferedthroughinthepast,butitmusthavebeenprettydamndifficultifhecan’tmoveonaftersixyears.
“Youactlikeit’ssuchabadthingforustolikeeachother.”
“Maybeitis,”hesays.
Ikindofwanthimtostoptalkingnow,becauseeverythinghesaysisjustcausingmemorepainandmakingmeevenmoreconfused.“Soyoubroughtmeheretocallitoff?”
Hesighsheavily.“Ijustwantedittobefun,but…Ithinkyoumighthavedifferentexpectationsfrommine.Idon’twanttohurtyou,andifwekeepdoingthis…Iwill.”Helooksouthiswindowagain.
Iwanttohitsomething,butinstead,Iruntwofrustratedhandsdownmyfaceandfallbackheavilyagainstmyseat.I’venevermetanyonewhocansaysolittlewhentheyspeak.He’sdefinitelyperfectedtheartofevasiveness.
“Youhavetogivememorethanthat,Miles.Asimpleexplanation,maybe?Whatthehellhappenedtoyou?”
Hisjawtightensasfirmlyasthegriphestillhasonhissteeringwheel.“Iaskedyoutodotwothingsforme.Don’taskaboutmypast,andneverexpectafuture.You’redoingboth.”
Inod.“Yes,Miles.You’reright.Iam.BecauseIlikeyou,andIknowyoulikeme,andwhenwe’retogether,it’sphenomenal,sothat’swhatnormalpeopledo.Whentheyfindsomeonethey’recompatiblewith,theyopenuptothem.Theyletthemin.Theywanttobewiththem.Theydon’tfuckthemagainsttheirkitchentableandthenwalkawayandmakethemfeellikecompleteshit.”
Nothing.
Hegivesmenothing.
Noreactionwhatsoever.
Hefacesforwardandstartshiscar.“Youwereright,”hesays.Heputsthecarinreverseandpreparestopulloutoftheparkinglot.“It’sagoodthingweweren’tfriendsfirst.Wouldhavemadethisalotharder.”
IturnawayfromhimbecauseI’membarrassedathowangryhiswordsaremakingme.I’membarrassedit’shurtingmelikeitis,buteverythingwithMileshurts.IthurtsbecauseIknowhowgoodourgoodmomentsare,andIknowhoweasilythebadmomentswouldgoawayifhewouldjuststoptryingtofightthis
“Tate,”hesayswithremorse.
Iwanttoriphisvoicefromhisthroat
Hishandmeetsmyshoulder,andthecarisn’tmovinganymore.“Tate,Ididn’tmeanthat.”
Ipushhishandaway.“Don’t,”Isay.“Eitheradmityouwantmeformorethanjustsex,ortakemehome.”
He’squiet.Maybehe’scontemplatingmyultimatum.
Admitit,Miles.Admitit.Please.
Thecarbeginsmovingagain.
???
“Whatdidyouexpectwouldhappen?”Capasks,handingmeanothertissue.
WhenMilesandIarrivedbackattheapartmentcomplex,Icouldn’tbearridingupthatelevatorwithhim,soItookaseatnexttoCapandlethimgoupalone.UnlikethehardexteriorItrytoshowMiles,IcompletelybreakdownwhilespillingallthedetailstoCap,whetherhecarestohearthemornot.
Iwipemynoseagainanddropthetissue,addingittothepilenexttomeonthefloor.“Iwasbeingdelusional,”Isay.“ItoldmyselfIcouldhandleitifheneverwantedmore.IguessIthoughtifIlethimtakehistime,he’deventuallycomearound.”
CapreachesaroundtoatrashcanathissideandplacesitbetweenussoIhavesomewheretotossmytissues.“Ifthatboycan’tseewhatagoodthinghecouldhavewithyou,thenheain’tworthyourtime.”
Inod,agreeingwithhim.Idohavealotmoreimportantthingstodowithmytime,butforsomereason,IfeelasifMilescanseewhatagoodthinghehaswithme.Ifeellikehewisheshecouldmakethisworkbetweenus,butsomethingbiggerthanhimormeorusisholdinghimback.IjustwishIknewwhatitwas.
“HaveItoldyoumyfavoritejokeyet?”Capasks.
Ishakemyheadandgrabanothertissuefromtheboxinhishands,relievedatthechangeinsubject.
“Knock,knock,”hesays.
Ididn’texpecthisfavoritejoketobeaknock-knockjoke,butIplayalong.“Who’sthere?”
“Interruptingcow,”hesays.
“Interrupt—”
“MOO!”heyellsloudly,cuttingmeoff.
Istareathim.
ThenIlaugh.
IlaughharderthanI’velaughedinalongdamntime.chaptertwenty-two
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
Mydadsaysheneedstospeaktous.
HeasksmetogetRachelandmeethimandLisaatthedining-roomtable.Itellhimokay,thatthere’ssomethingweneedtospeaktothemabout,too.
Curiosityflashesinhiseyesbutonlyforabriefsecond.HethinksaboutLisaagain,andhe’snotcuriousanymore.
HiseverythingisLisa.
IgotoRachel’sroomandtellmyeverythingthattheywanttospeaktous.
Weallsitdownatthedining-roomtable.
Iknowwhathe’sgoingtosay.He’sgoingtotellusheproposed.Idon’twanttocare,butIdo.Iwonderwhyhedidn’ttellmefirst.Thismakesmesadbutonlyalittlebit.It’snotgoingtomatterafterwetellthemwhatwehavetotellthem.
“IaskedLisatomarryme,”hesays.Lisasmilesathim.Hesmilesather.
RachelandIaren’tsmiling.
“Sowedid,”Lisasays,flashingherring.
So.
We.
Did.
Rachelgaspsquietly.
They’realreadymarried.
Theylookhappy.
They’relookingatus,waitingforareaction.
Lisaisconcerned.Shedoesn’tlikethatRachellookssoupset.“Honey,itwasspur-of-the-moment.WewereinVegas.Neitherofuswantedabigwedding.Pleasedon’tbemad.”
Rachelbeginscryingintoherhands.Iwrapmyarmaroundherandwanttoconsoleher.Iwanttokissherreassuringly,butmyfatherandLisawouldn’tunderstandit.
Ineedtotellthem.
MydadlooksconfusedthatRachelissoupset.“Ididn’tthinkeitherofyouwouldmind,”hesays.“You’rebothleavingforcollegeinacoupleofmonths.”
Hethinkswe’remadatthem.
“Dad?”Isay,keepingmyarmaroundRachel.“Lisa?”
Ilookatbothofthem.
Iruintheirday.
Ruin.
“Rachelispregnant.”
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
DEAFENINGSILENCE.
Lisaisinshock.
MyfatheriscomfortingLisa.Hisarmisaroundher,andhe’srubbingherback.
“Youdon’tevenhaveaboyfriend,”LisasaystoRachel.
Rachellooksatme.
Myfatherstands.He’sangrynow.“Who’sresponsible?”heyells.Helooksatme.“Tellmewhoheis,Miles.Whatkindofguyknocksagirlupanddoesn’thavetheballstobewithherwhenshetellsherownmother?Whatkindofguywouldletagirl’sbrotherbetheonetobreakthenews?”
“I’mnotherbrother,”Isaytomyfather.
I’mnot.
Heignoresmycomment.He’spacingthekitchennow.HehatesthepersonwhodidthistoRachel.
“Dad,”Isay.Istandup.
Hestopspacing.Heturnsandlooksatme.
“Dad…”
I’msuddenlynotasconfidentasIwaswhenIsatdowntodothis.
I’vegotthis.
“Dad,itwasme.I’mtheonewhogotherpregnant.”
Mywordsarehardforhimtoswallow.
LisaislookingbackandforthbetweenRachelandme.Shecan’tswallowwhatI’msaying,either.
“That’snotpossible,”myfathersays,tryingtopushawayallthethoughtsthataretellinghimitispossible.
Iwaitforittoprocess.
Hisexpressionchangesfromconfusiontoanger.HelooksatmelikeI’mnotevenhisson.He’slookingatmelikeI’mtheguywhoknockeduphisnewstepdaughter.
Hehatesme.
Hehatesme.
Hereallyhatesme.
“Getoutofthishouse.”
IlookatRachel.Shegrabsmyhandandshakesherhead,silentlypleadingformenottoleave.
“Getout,”hesaysagain.
Hehatesme.
ItellRachelIshouldgo.“Justforalittlewhile.”
Shebegsmenottogo.Myfatherwalksaroundthetableandshovesme.Hepushesmetowardthedoor.IreleaseRachel’shand.
“I’llbeatIan’s,”Itellher.“Iloveyou.”
Thosewordsareobviouslytoomuchformyfather,becausehisfistimmediatelycomesatme.HepullshishandbackandlooksalmostasshockedasIdothathejustpunchedme.
Istepoutside,andmyfatherslamsthedoor.
Myfatherhatesme.
Iwalktomycarandopenthedoor.Isitinthedriver’sseat,butIdon’tcranktheengine.Ilookinthemirror.Mylipisbleeding.
Ihatemyfather.
Igetoutofmycarandslamthedoor.Iwalkbackintothehouse.Myfatherrushestothedoor.
Iholdmypalmsup.Idon’twanttohithim,butIwill.Ifhetouchesmeagain,I’llhithim.
Rachelisn’tatthetableanymore.
Rachelisinherroom.
“I’msorry,”Isaytobothofthem.“Wedidn’tmeanforittohappen,butithappened,andnowwehavetodealwithit.”
Lisaiscrying.Myfatherhugsher.IlookatLisa.
“Iloveher,”Isay.“I’minlovewithyourdaughter.I’lltakecareofthem.”
We’vegotthis.
Lisacan’tevenlookatme.
Theybothhateme.
“ThisstartedbeforeIevenmetyou,Lisa.ImetherbeforeIknewyouwerewithmyfather,andwetriedtostopit.”
That’skindofalie.
Myfatherstepsforward.“Theentiretime?Thishasbeengoingontheentiretimeshe’slivedhere?”
Ishakemyhead.“It’sbeengoingonsincebeforeshelivedhere.”
Hehatesmeevenmorenow.Hewantstohitmeagain,butLisaispullinghimback.Shetellshimthey’llfigureitout.Shetellshimshecangetit“takencareof.”Shetellshimit’llbeokay.
“It’stoolateforthat,”ItellLisa.“She’stoofaralong.”
Idon’twaitformyfathertohitmeagain.IrushdownthehallwayandgotoRachel.Ilockthedoorbehindme.
Shemeetsmehalfway.Shethrowsherarmsaroundmyneckandcriesintomyshirt.
“Well,”Isay.“Thehardpartisoverwith.”
Shelaughswithhercry.Shetellsmethehardpartisn’toveryet.Shetellsmethehardpartisgettinghimout.
Ilaugh.
Iloveyousomuch,Rachel.
“Iloveyousomuch,Miles,”shewhispers.chaptertwenty-three
TATE
Imissyousomuch,Miles.
ThoughtslikethatarewhyI’mdrowningmysorrowsinchocolate.It’sbeenthreeweekssincehebroughtmehome.It’sbeenthreeweekssinceI’velaideyesonhim.Christmascameandwent,butIbarelynoticedbecauseIworkedthroughit.TwoThursdaygamenightsthatMilesdidn’tshowupto.NewYear’scameandwent.Anothersemesterofschoolbegan.
AndTatestillmissesMiles.
Itakemychocolatechipsandmychocolatemilkandwalktothekitchentohidethemfromthepersonknockingattheapartmentdoor.
Ialreadyknowit’snotMiles,becausetheknockatmydoorbelongstoChadandTarryn.They’retheonlyfriendsI’vemadehere,asbusyasIam,andthey’reonlymyfriendsbecausewe’reinstudygrouptogether.
Whichiswhythey’reknockingonmydoorrightnow.
Iopenit,andChadisstandinginthedoorwaysansTarryn.
“Where’sTarryn?”
“Shegotcalledintocoverashift,”hesays.“Shecan’tmakeittonight.”
Iholdthedooropenfurthertolethimin.Assoonashestepsoverthethreshold,Milesopenshisapartmentdooracrossthehall.Hefreezeswhenoureyesmeet.
HeholdsmecaptivewithhisstareforseveralsecondsuntilhisgazeslidesovermyshoulderandlandsonChad.
IglanceatChad,wholooksatmeandarchesaneyebrow.Hecanapparentlytellsomething’sup,soherespectfullyretreatsintomyapartment.“I’llbeinyourroom,Tate,”hesays.
That’sniceofChad…offeringtogivemeprivacywiththeguyacrossthehall.However,announcingthathe’llbewaitinginmybedroomprobablywasn’ttherespectMileswantedtobeshown,becausenowhe’ssteppingbackinsidehisapartment.
Hiseyesdroptothefloorrightbeforehecloseshisdoor.
Thelookonhisfacesendspangsofguiltstraighttomystomach.Ihavetoremindmyselfthatthiswashischoice.Ihavenothingtofeelguiltyabout,evenifheismisjudgingthesituationhejustopenedhisdoorto.
IclosethefrontdoorandjoinChadinmyroom.ThesilentpeptalkItriedtogivemyselfdidnothingtoeasetheguilt.Isitonthebed,andhesitsatthedesk.“Thatwasweird,”hesays,eyeingme.“I’malittlescaredtoleaveyourapartmentnow.”
Ishakemyhead.“Don’tworryaboutMiles.Hehasissues,buttheyaren’tmyissuesanymore.”
Chadnodsanddoesn’tquestionmeanyfurther.Heopensthestudyguideandlaysitacrosshislapashepropshisfeetuponthebed.
“Tarrynalreadymadenotesforchaptertwo,soifyougetthree,I’llcoverfour.”
“Deal,”Isay.Iscootbackagainstmypillowandspendthenexthourpreparingnotesforchapterthree,butIhavenoideahowImanagetoconcentrate,becausetheonlythingIcanthinkaboutisthelookthatcrossedMiles’sfacerightbeforeheclosedthedoor.IcouldtellIhurthim.
Thatmakesusevennow,Iguess.
???
AfterChadandIexchangenotesandanswerthestudyquestionsattheendofeverychapter,Imakecopiesonmyprinter.Irealizethreepeopledivvyingupthreechaptersandsharinganswersischeating,butwhothehellcares?Ineverclaimedtobeperfect.
Oncewe’refinished,IwalkChadbackout.Icantellhe’salittlebitnervousafterhavingseenthelookonMiles’sfaceearlier,soIwaitforhimtogetontheelevatorbeforeIclosetheapartmentdoor.Tobehonest,Iwasalittlenervousforhim,too.
Iwalktothekitchenandbeginmakingaplateofleftovers.There’snopointincooking,sinceCorbinwon’tbehomeuntillatetonight.BeforeI’mfinishedaddingfoodtomyplate,thefrontdooropenswithaknock.
Milesistheonlyonewhoopensthedoorandknocksatthesametime.
Calmdown.
Calmdown,calmdown,calmdown.
Calmthehelldown,Tate!
“Whowasthat?”Milesasksfrombehindme.
Idon’teventurnaround.Icontinuemakingmyplateoffoodasifhisbeinghereafterweeksofsilenceisn’tfillingmewithastormofemotions.Angerbeingthemostprominentone.
“He’sinmyclass,”Isay.“Wewerestudying.”
Icanfeelthetensionrollingoffhim,andI’mnotevenfacinghim.“Forthreehours?”
Ispinaroundandfacehim,buttheexpletivesIwanttoscreamgetcaughtinmythroatwhenIseehim.He’sstandinginthedoorwaytothekitchen,grippingthedoorframeoverhishead.Icantellhehasn’tworkedinafewdays,becausehisjawislinedwithathinlayerofstubble.He’sbarefoot,andhisshirthasrisenupwithhisarms,revealingthatV
Atfirst,Istareathim.
ThenIyellathim.
“IfIwanttoscrewaguyinmybedroomforthreehours,thengoodforme!Youaren’tatallentitledtohaveanopinionaboutwhatgoesoninmylife.You’reajerk,andyouhaveseriousissues,andIdon’twanttobeapartofthemanymore.”
I’mlying.Ireallydowanttobeapartofhisissues.Iwanttoimmersemyselfinhisissuesandbecomehisissues,butI’msupposedtobethisindependent,headstronggirlwhodoesn’tcavejustbecauseshelikesaguy.
Hiseyesarenarrowed,andhisbreathsarecominghardandfast.Hedropshisarmsandwalksswiftlytome,grabbingmyface,forcingmetolookupathim.
Hiseyesarefrantic,andknowingthathe’sscaredthatI’vemovedonfeelswaytoogood.Hewaitsseveralsecondsbeforespeaking,allowinghiseyestoroamovermyface.Histhumbsbrushlightlyacrossmycheekbones,andhishandsfeelprotectiveandgood,andIabsolutelyhatethatIwantthemeverywhererightnow.Idon’tlikewhoheturnsmeinto.
“Areyousleepingwithhim?”heasks,finallyrestinghiseyesonmineastheysearchfortruth.
That’snoneofyourbusiness,Miles.
“No,”Isayinstead.
“Haveyoukissedhim?”
Stillnotyourbusiness,Miles.
“No.”
Hecloseshiseyesandexhales,relieved.Hedropshishandstothebaroneithersideofmeandlowershisforeheadtomyshoulder.
Hedoesn’taskmeanotherquestion.
He’shurting,butIdon’tknowwhatthehelltodoaboutit.He’stheonlyonewhocanchangethingsbetweenus,andasfarasIknow,he’sstillnotwillingtodothat.
“Tate,”hesaysinapainedwhisper.Hisfacemovestomyneck,andoneofhishandsgripsmywaist.“Dammit,Tate.”Hisotherhandmovestothebackofmyheadashislipsrestagainsttheskinofmyneck.“WhatdoIdo?”hewhispers.“WhatthefuckdoIdo?”
Isqueezemyeyesshut,becausetheconfusionandpaininhisvoiceareunbearable.Ishakemyhead.IshakeitbecauseIdon’tknowhowtoansweraquestionthatIdon’tevenknowthemeaningbehind.IalsoshakemyheadbecauseIdon’tknowhowtophysicallypushhimaway.
Hislipsmeetthespotjustbelowmyear,andIwanttopullhimcloserandpushhimasfarawayasIcan.Hismouthcontinuestomoveacrossmyskin,andIfeelmynecktiltingsothathecanfindevenmoreofmetokiss.Hisfingerstangleinmyhairashegripsthebackofmyheadtoholdmestillagainsthismouth.
“Makemeleave,”hesays,hisvoicepleadingandwarmagainstmythroat.“Youdon’tneedthis.”He’skissinghiswayupmythroat,breakingforbreathonlywhenhespeaks.“Ijustdon’tknowhowtostopwantingyou.Tellmetogo,andI’llgo.”
Idon’ttellhimtogo.Ishakemyhead.“Ican’t.”
Iturnmyfacetowardhisjustashe’sworkedhiswayuptomymouth,thenIgrabhisshirtandpullhimtome,knowingexactlywhatI’mdoingtomyself.Iknowthistimewon’tendanyprettierthantheothertimes,butIstillwantitjustasmuch.Ifnotmore.
Hepausesandlooksmehardintheeyes.“Ican’tgiveyoumorethanthis,”hewhispersasawarning.“Ijustcan’t.”
Ihatehimforsayingthatbutrespectitjustthesame.
Irespondbypullinghimcloseruntilourlipsmeet.Weopenourmouthsattheexactsametimeandcompletelydevoureachother.We’refrantic,pullingateachother,moaning,diggingintoeachother’sskin.
Sex,Iremindmyself.It’sjustsex.Nothingmore.He’snotgivingmeanyotherpartofhim.
IcantellmyselfthatallIwant,butatthesametime,I’mtaking,taking,takingasmuchasIcanget.Decipheringeverysoundhemakesandeverytouch,attemptingtoconvincemyselfthatwhathe’sgivingmeissomuchmorethanwhatitprobablyis.
I’mafool.
AtleastI’maself-awarefool.
Iunbuttonhisjeans,andheunfastensmybra,andbeforewe’reeveninmybedroom,myshirtisoff.Ourmouthsneverseparateasheshutsmydoor,thenyanksoffmybra.Hepushesmeontothebedandpullsoffmyjeans,thenstandsandremoveshisown.
It’sarace.
It’sMilesandmeagainsteverythingelse.
We’reracingourconsciences,ourpride,ourrespect,thetruth.He’stryingtogetinsidemebeforeanyoftherestofthatstuffcatchesuptous.
Assoonashe’sbackonthebed,he’soverme,againstme,theninsideme.
Wewin.
Hismouthfindsmineagain,butthat’sallitdoes.Hedoesn’tkissme.Ourlipstouchandourbreathcollidesandoureyesmeet,butthereisn’takiss.
Whatourmouthsaredoingissomuchmorethanthat.Witheverythrustinsideme,hislipsslideovermine,andhiseyesgrowhungrier,butheneveroncekissesme.
Akississomucheasierthanwhatwe’redoing.Whenyoukiss,youcancloseyoureyes.Youcankissawaythethoughts.Youcankissawaythepain,thedoubt,theshame.Whenyoucloseyoureyesandkiss,youprotectyourselffromthevulnerability.
Thisisn’tusprotectingourselves.
Thisisconfrontation.Thisisastandoff.Thisiseye-to-eyecombat.Thisisadare,frommetoMiles,fromMilestome.Idareyoutotrytostopthis,we’rebothsilentlyscreaming.
Hiseyesremainfocusedonminetheentiretimeashemovesinandoutofme.Witheachthrust,Ihearhiswordsfromjustafewshortweeksagorepeatinmyhead.
It’seasytoconfusefeelingsandemotionsforsomethingtheyaren’t,especiallywheneyecontactisinvolved.
Icompletelyunderstandnow.IunderstandsowellIalmostwishhe’dclosehiseyes,becausehe’smorethanlikelynotfeelingwhathiseyesareshowingmerightnow.
“Youfeelsogood,”hewhispers.Thewordsfallintomymouth,forcingmoansoutofmeinreciprocation.Helowershisrighthandbetweenus,placingpressureagainstmeinawaythatwouldnormallycausemyheadtofallbackwardandmyeyestofallshut.
Notthistime.I’mnotbackingdownfromthisconfrontation.Especiallynotwhenhe’sstaringstraightintomyeyes,defyinghisownwords.
EventhoughIrefusetobackdown,IdolethimknowIlikewhathe’sdoingtome.Ican’thelpbutlethimknowthat,becauseIdon’thavecontrolovermyvoicerightnow.It’spossessedbyagirlwhothinksshewantsthisfromhim.
“Don’tstop,”myvoicesays,becomingmorepossessedbyhimthelongerthiscontinues.
“Wasn’tplanningonit.”
Heappliesmorepressure,bothinsideandoutsideme.Hegrabsmylegbehindthekneeandpullsitupbetweenourchests,findingaslightlydifferentangletoenterme.Heholdsmylegfirmlyagainsthisshoulderandsomehowthrustsintomeevendeeper.
“Miles.Oh,myGod.”ImoanhisnameandGod’snameandevenshoutouttoJesusacoupleoftimes.Ibegintoshudderbeneathhim,andI’mnotsurewhichoneofusbrokedownfirst,butwe’rekissingnow.We’rekissingashardandasdeepashisthrustsinsideme.
He’sloud.I’mlouder.
I’mshaking.He’sshakingharder.
He’soutofbreath.I’minhalingenoughforbothofus.
Hepushesintomeonefinaltimeandholdsmefirmlyagainstthemattresswithhisweight.“Tate,”hesays,moaningmynameagainstmymouthashisbodyrecoversfromthetremors.“Fuck,Tate”Heslowlypullsoutofmeandpresseshischeekagainstmychest.“Holyshit,”hebreathes.“It’ssogood.This.Us.Sofuckinggood.”
“Iknow.”
Herollsontohissideandkeepshisarmdrapedacrossme.Welietogetherquietly.
Me—notwantingtoadmitthatIjustlethimusemeagain.
Him—notwantingtoadmitthatitwasmorethanjustsex.
Bothofuslyingtoourselves.
“Where’sCorbin?”heasks.
“He’llbehomelatertonight.”
Heliftshisheadandlooksdownatme,hisbrowsfurrowedinalineofworry.“Ishouldgo.”Herollsoffthebedandpullshisjeansbackon.“Comeoverlater?”
InodasIstandupandslideintomyownjeans.“Grabmyshirtfromthekitchen,”Itellhim.Ipullonmybraandfastenit.Heopensmybedroomdoor,buthedoesn’twalkout.Hepausesinthedoorway.He’slookingatsomeone.
Shit.
Idon’thavetoseehimtoknowthatCorbinisstandingthere.Iimmediatelyrushtothedoortostopwhatever’sabouttohappen.WhenIholditopenfurther,Corbinisstandinginhisdoorwayacrossthehall,glaringatMiles.
Imakethefirstmove.“Corbin,beforeyousayanything—”
Heholdsuphishandtoshutmeup.Hiseyesdropforasecondtomybra,andhewincesasifhewashopingthatwhathehearddidn’treallyhappen.Helooksaway,andIimmediatelycovermyself,embarrassedthatheheardeverything.HelooksbackatMiles,andhiseyesareanequalmixtureofangeranddisappointment.“Howlong?”
“Don’tanswerthat,Miles,”Isay.Ijustwanthimtoleave.Corbinhasnorighttobequestioninghimlikethis.It’sridiculous.
“Awhile,”Milessays,shamefully.
Corbinnodsslowly,lettingitsinkin.“Doyouloveher?”
MilesandIlookateachother.HelooksbackatCorbinasifhe’stryingtodecidewhichoneofushewantshisanswertoplease.
I’mpositivetheslowshakeofhisheadpleasesneitherofus.
“Areyouatleastplanningto?”Corbinasks.
IcontinuetostudyMilesasifsomeoneisaskinghimwhatthemeaningoflifeis.IthinkIwanthisanswertoCorbin’squestionmorethanCorbindoes.
Milesexhalesandshakeshisheadagain.“No,”hewhispers.
No.
He’snotevenplanningtoloveme.
Iknewhisanswer.Iexpectedit.However,itstillhurtslikehell.Thefactthathecan’tevenlieaboutittosavehimselffromdisappointingCorbinprovesthatthisisn’tsomegamehe’splaying.
ThisisMiles.Milesisn’tcapableoflove.Notanymore,anyway.
Corbingripstheframeofhisdoorandpresseshisforeheadagainsthisarm,inhalingaslow,steadybreath.HelooksbackupatMileswitheyeslikearrowsaimedatatarget.Inallmylife,I’veneverseenCorbinthisangry.
“Youjustfuckedmysister?”
I’mwaitingforMilestofallbackwardfromtheimpactofCorbin’swords,buthetakesasteptowardhiminstead.“Corbin,she’sagrownwoman.”
CorbintakesaquicksteptowardMiles.“Getout.”
Milesglancesbackatme,andhiseyesareapologeticandfullofregret.I’mnotsureifit’sformeorforCorbin,buthedoeswhatCorbinasks.
Heleaves.
I’mstillstandinginmybedroomdoorway,lookingatCorbinlikeIcouldflyacrossthishallanddeckhim.
Corbinpiercesmewithastareasfirmashisstance.“You’renotabrother,Tate,”hesays.“Don’tyoudaretellmeI’mnotallowedtobepissed.”Hestepsbackintohisbedroomandslamshisdoor.
Iblinkrapidly,fightingbacktearsofangerbecauseofCorbin,tearsofhurtbecauseofMiles,andtearsofshamebecauseoftheselfishchoicesImadeformyself.Irefusetocryinfrontofeitherofthem.
Iwalktothekitchenandretrievemyshirt,thenpullitovermyheadasImakemywaytowardthefrontdoorandacrossthehall.Iknockonhisdoor,andMilesopensitimmediately.HelooksbehindmeasifheexpectsCorbintobestandingthere,thenhestepsasideandletsmein.
“He’llgetoverit,”Isaytohimafterhecloseshisdoor.
“Iknow,”hesaysquietly.“Butitwon’tbethesame.”Mileswalkstohislivingroomandsitsonhiscouch,soIfollowhimandsitdownbesidehim.Idon’thaveanywordsofadvice,becausehe’sright.Thingsmorethanlikelywon’tbethesamebetweenhimandCorbin.IfeelshittythatI’mthereasonforthat.
Milessighsashepullsmyhandtohislap.Hethreadshisfingersthroughmine.“Tate,”hesays.“I’msorry.”
Ilookathim,andhiseyescomeupandmeetmine.“Forwhat?”
Idon’tknowwhyI’mpretendingnottoknowwhathe’stalkingabout.Iknowexactlywhathe’stalkingabout.
“WhenCorbinaskedifIplannedonlovingyou,”hesays.“I’msorryIcouldn’tsayyes.Ijustdidn’twanttolietoeitherofyou.”
Ishakemyhead.“You’vebeennothingbuthonestaboutwhatyouwantfromme,Miles.Ican’tbemadatyouforthat.”
Heinhalesadeepbreathashestandsandbeginspacingthelivingroom.Iremainonthecouchandwatchhimasheworkstogatherhisthoughts.Heeventuallypausesandlockshishandsbehindhishead.“Ihadnorighttoquestionyouaboutthatguy,either.Idon’tallowyoutoquestionmeormylife,soIhavenorighttoquestionyours.”
Notabouttoarguewiththatlogic.
“Ijustdon’tknowhowtodealwiththisthingbetweenus.”Hestepsclosertome,andIstandup.Hewrapshisarmsaroundmyshouldersandholdsmeagainsthischest.“Idon’tknowaneasyorevenpolitewaytosaythis,butwhatIsaidtoCorbinisthetruth.I’llneverloveanyoneagain.It’snotworthittome.ButI’mbeingunfairtoyou.IknowI’mmessingwithyourhead,andIknowI’vehurtyou,andI’msorryforthat.Ijustlikebeingwithyou,buteverytimeI’mwithyou,I’mscaredyou’reseeingitformorethanitreallyis.”
IknowIshouldhavesomesortofreactiontoeverythinghejustsaid,butI’mstillprocessinghiswords.Everysingleoneofhisadmissionsshouldbearedflag,sincetheywereallalsocoupledwiththehardtruththathedoesn’tplanonlovingmeorhavingarelationshipwithme,buttheredflagdoesn’trise.
Thegreenonedoes.
“Isitmespecificallyyoudon’twanttolove,orisitloveingeneralyoudon’twanttoexperience?”
Hepullsmeawayfromhischestsohecanlookatmewhileheanswersmyquestion.“It’sloveingeneralIdon’twant,Tate.Ever.It’syouspecificallythatIjust…want.”
Ifallinandoutandbackinlovewiththatanswer.
I’msoscrewedup.Everythinghesaysshouldsendmerunning,butinstead,itmakesmewanttowrapmyarmsaroundhimandgivehimwhateveritishe’swillingtotakefromme.I’mlyingtohim,andI’mlyingtomyself,andI’mnotdoingeitherofusanygood,butIcan’tstopthewordsthatcomeoutofmymouth.
“Icanhandlethisaslongasitstayssimple,”Itellhim.“Whenyoupulltheshityoupulledafewweeksagobywalkingawayandslammingyourdoor?That’snotkeepingitsimple,Miles.Thingslikethatmakeitcomplicated.”
Henods,contemplatingwhatI’vesaid.“Simple,”hesays,rollingthewordaroundinhismouth.“Ifyoucandosimple,Icandosimple.”
“Good,”Isay.“Andwhenitbecomestoohardforeitherofus,we’llenditforgood.”
“I’mnotworriedaboutitbecomingtoohardforme,”hesays.“I’mworriedaboutitbecomingtoohardforyou.”
I’mworriedaboutme,too,Miles.ButIwantthehereandnowwithyouawholelotmorethanIcareabouthowitwillaffectmeintheend.
Withthatthought,Isuddenlyfigureoutwhatmyoneruleis.He’shadhisboundariesthisentiretime,protectinghimselffromthevulnerabilitythatI’vebeensubjectedto.
“IthinkIfinallyhavemyonerule,”Isay.Helooksatmeandraisesabrow,waitingformetotalk.“Don’tgivemefalsehopeforafuture,”Isay.“Especiallyifyouknowinyourheartwe’llneverhaveone.”
Hispostureimmediatelystiffens.“HaveIdonethat?”heasks,genuinelyconcerned.“HaveIgivenyoufalsehopebefore?”
Yes.Aboutthirtyminutesago,whenyoulookedmeintheeyestheentiretimeyouwereinsideme.
“No,”Isayquickly.“Justmakesureyoudon’tdoorsaythingsthatwouldmakemebelieveotherwise.Aslongaswebothseethisforwhatitis,Ithinkwe’llbefine.”
Hestaresatmesilentlyforawhile,studyingme.Evaluatingmywords.“Ican’ttellifyou’rereallymatureforyourageorreallydelusional.”
Ishrug,guardingmydelusionsdeepinsidemychest.“Anunhealthymixtureofboth,I’msure.”
Hepresseshislipsagainstthesideofmyhead.“Thisfeelsreallyfuckeduptosayoutloud,butIpromiseIwon’tgiveyouhopeforus,Tate.”
Myheartfrownsathiswords,butmyfaceforcesasmile.“Good,”Isay.“Youhaveseriousissuesthatkindoffreakmeout,andI’dmuchratherfallinlovewithanemotionallystablemansomeday.”
Helaughs.Probablybecauseheknowstheoddsoffindingsomeonewhocanputupwiththiskindofrelationship,ifyoucanevencallitthat,areextremelylow.Yetsomehow,theonegirlwhomightbefinewithitjusthappenedtomoveinacrossthehallfromhim.Andheactuallylikesher.
Youlikeme,MilesArcher.
???
“Corbinfoundout,”IsayasItakewhathasbecomemyusualseatnexttoCap.
“Uh-oh,”hesays.“Istheboystillalive?”
Inod.“Fornow.Notsurehowlongthat’lllast,though.”
Thedoorstothelobbyopen,andIwatchDillonmakehiswayinside.Hepullsahatoffhisheadandshakesrainoutofitashewalkstowardtheelevator.
“SometimesIwishtheflightsIsendupwouldcrash,”Capsays,eyeingDillon.
IguessCapdoesn’tlikeDillon,either.I’mbeginningtofeelalittlebadforDillon.
Hespotsusjustbeforehereachestheelevators.Capismovingtopresstheupbutton,butDillonreachesitbeforehim.“I’mprettycapableoffetchingmyownelevator,oldman,”hesays.
IvaguelyrememberhavingabriefthoughttensecondsagoaboutDillonandhowIfeltsorryforhim.Itakethatthoughtbacknow.
Dillonlooksatmeandwinks.“Whatyoudoing,Tate?”
“Washingelephants,”Isaywithastraightface.
Dillonshootsmeaconfusedlook,notatallunderstandingmyrandomresponse.
“Ifyoudon’twantasarcasticanswer,”Capsaystohim,“don’taskastupidquestion.”
Theelevatordoorsopen,andDillonrollshiseyesatbothofusbeforewalkingontotheelevator.
Capcutshiseyestomine,andhegrins.Heholdsapalmupintheair,andIhigh-fivehim.chaptertwenty-four
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
“Whyiseverythingyellow?”
MydadisstandinginthedoorwaytoRachel’sbedroom,lookingatthefewitemswe’vecollectedinthemonthssincehe’sknownaboutthepregnancy.“ItlookslikeBigBirdthrewupinhere.”
Rachellaughs.She’sstandingatthebathroommirror,puttingthefinishingtouchesonhermakeup.I’vebeenlyingonherbed,watchingher.
“Wedon’twanttoknowifit’saboyoragirl,sowe’rebuyinggender-neutralcolors.”
Rachelanswersmydad’squestionasifitwereoneofmany,butwebothknowit’sthefirst.Hehasn’taskedaboutthepregnancy.Hedoesn’taskaboutourplans.HeusuallyleavestheroomifRachelandIarebothinit.
Lisaisn’tmuchdifferent.She’snotpastthepointofdisappointmentorsadnessyet,sowedon’tpushit.It’lltaketime,soRachelandIaregivingthattothem.
Rightnow,Rachelonlyhasmetotalktoaboutthebaby,andIonlyhaveher,andeventhoughthatseemsliketoolittle,it’smorethanenoughforbothofus.
“Howlongwilltheceremonylast?”mydadasksme.
“Nomorethantwohours,”Itellhim.
Hesaysweshouldgo.
ItellhimthatassoonasRachelisready,wecango.
Rachelsaysshe’sready.
Wego.
???
“Congratulations,”ItellRachel.
“Congratulations,”shetellsme.
Webothgraduatedthreehoursago.Nowwe’relyingonmybed,thinkingaboutournextstep.OratleastIam,anyway.
“Let’smoveintogether,”Itellher
Shelaughs.“Wekindofalreadylivetogether,Miles,”shepointsout.
Ishakemyhead.“YouknowwhatImean.IknowwealreadyhaveplansforafterwestartcollegeinAugust,butIthinkweshoulddoitnow.”
Sherisesuponherelbowandlooksatme,probablytryingtoreadmyexpressiontoseeifI’mserious.
“How?Wherewouldwego?”
Ireachovertomynightstandandopenthetopdrawer.Ipullouttheletterandhandittoher.
Shebeginsreadingitoutloud.
DearMr.Archer,
Shelooksupatme,andhereyesarewide.
Congratulationsonyoursummerregistration.Wearepleasedtoinformyouthatyourapplicationforfamilyhousinghasbeenprocessedandapproved.
Rachelsmiles.
Enclosedyouwillfindareturnenvelopeandthefinalpaperworkwhichwillneedtobereturnedbythepostmarkeddate.
Rachellooksattheenvelopeandquicklyflipsthroughtheattachedpaperwork.Shepullstheletterbacktothetop.
Welookforwardtoreceivingthecompletedforms.Ourcontactinformationisbelowshouldyouhaveanyquestions.
Sincerely,
PaigeDonahue,Registrar
Rachelcovershersmilewithherhandandtossestheletteraside,thenleansforwardandhugsme.
“Wegettomovenow?”shesays.
Ilovehowevidenttheexcitementisinhervoice.
Itellheryes.Rachelisrelieved.SheknowsaswellasIdohowawkwardthenextseveralweekswouldhavebeeninthesamehouseasourparents.
“Haveyouaskedyourfatheryet?”
Itellhersheforgetsthatwe’readultsnow.Wenolongerhavetoaskforpermission.Weonlyhavetoinform.
Rachelsaysshewantstoinformthemrightnow.
ItakeRachel’shand,andwewalktogethertothelivingroomandinformourparentsthatwe’removingout.
Together.chaptertwenty-five
TATE
It’sbeenafewweekssinceCorbinfoundout.Hehasn’tacceptedit,andhestillhasn’tspokentoMiles,buthe’sbeginningtoadapt.HeknowsonthenightsIleavewithoutexplanation,onlytocomebackafewhourslater,whereI’vebeen.Hedoesn’task.
AsfarasthingswithMiles,I’mtheonedoingtheadapting.I’vehadtoadapttohisrules,becausethere’snowayMilesisadaptingtobreakingthem.I’velearnedtostoptryingtofigurehimoutandtostopallowingthingstogetsotensebetweenus.We’redoingexactlywhatweagreedtodointhebeginning,whichwastohavesex.
Alotofsex.
Showersex.Bedroomsex.Floorsex.Kitchen-tablesex.
I’vestillneverspentthenightwithhim,anditstillhurtssometimeshowclosedoffhebecomesrightafterit’sover,butIstillhaven’tfiguredoutawaytosaynotohim.
IknowIwantsomuchmorethanwhathe’sgivingmeandhewantssomuchlessthanwhatIwanttogivehim,butwe’rebothjusttakingwhatwecangetfornow.ItrynottothinkaboutwhatwillhappenthedayIcan’thandleitanymore.ItrynottothinkaboutalltheotherthingsI’msacrificingbystillbeinginvolvedwithhim.
Itrynottothinkaboutitatall,butthethoughtsstillcome.Everynight,whenI’minbed,Ithinkaboutit.EverytimeI’mintheshower,Ithinkaboutit.WhenI’minclass,inthelivingroom,inthekitchen,atwork…Ithinkaboutwhat’sgoingtohappenwhenoneofusfinallycomestooursenses.
“IsTateanicknameforsomethingelse?”Milesasksme.
We’reinhisbed.Hejustgothomefromfourdaysatwork,andeventhoughourarrangementissupposedtobeallaboutsex,we’restillfullydressed.We’renotmakingout.He’sjustlyingwithme,askingmepersonalquestionsaboutmyname,andIloveitsomuchmorethananyotherdaywe’veeverspenttogether.
It’sthefirsttimehe’severaskedmeasemi-personalquestion.Ihatethathisquestionfillsmewithallthesefeelingsofhope,andallhedidwasaskmeifTatewasanickname.
“Tateismymiddlename,”Isay.“Itwasmygrandmother’smaidenname.”
“What’syourfirstname?”
“Elizabeth.”
“ElizabethTateCollins,”hesays,makinglovetomynamewithhisvoice.Mynamehasneversoundedasbeautifulasitdidjustnow,comingoutofhismouth.“That’salmosttwiceasmanysyllablesasmyname,”hesays.“That’salotofsyllables.”
“What’syourmiddlename?”
“Mikel,”hesays.“Peoplealwaysmispronounceitandsay‘Michael,’though.Getsannoying.”
“MilesMikelArcher,”Isay.“That’sastrongname.”
Milesrisesontohiselbowandlooksdownatmewithapeacefulexpression.Hebrushesmyhairbehindmyearashiseyesroamovermyface.“AnythinginterestinghappenthisweekwhileIwasworking,ElizabethTateCollins?”There’saplayfulnessinhisvoice.OnethatI’mnotfamiliarwith,butIlikeit.Ilikeitalot.
“Notreally,MilesMikelArcher,”Isay,smiling.“Iworkedalotofovertime.”
“Doyoustilllikeyourjob?”Hisfingersaretouchingmyface,slidingacrossmylips,trailingdownmyneck.
“Idolikeit,”Isay.“Doyoulikebeingacaptain?”Ijustthrowversionsofhisownquestionsbackathim.Ifigureit’ssafethatway,becauseIknowhe’llonlygivewhathe’swillingtotake.
Milesfollowshishandwithhiseyesasheunbuttonsthetopbuttonofmyshirt.“Ilovemyjob,Tate.”Hisfingersworkonthesecondbuttonofmyshirt.“Ijustdon’tlikebeinggonesomuch,especiallyknowingyou’rerightacrossthehallfromwhereIlive.Itmakesmewanttobehomeallthetime.”
Itrytocontainit,butIcan’t.Hiswordsmakemegasp,eventhoughitwasprobablythequietestgasptoeverpassanyone’slips.
Buthenotices.
Hiseyesmeetmineinaflash,andIcanseehimwantingtobackpedal.Hewantstotakebackwhathejustsaid,becausetherewashopeinthosewords.Milesdoesn’tsaythingslikethat.Iknowhe’sabouttoapologize.He’sgoingtoremindmethathecan’tloveme,thathedidn’tmeantogivemethatinklingoffalsehope.
Don’ttakeitback,Miles.Please,letmekeepthat.
Oureyesremainlockedforseverallongseconds.Icontinuetostareupathim,waitingforthetake-back.Hisfingersarestillonthesecondbuttonofmyshirt,butthey’renotattemptingtounbuttonitanymore.
Hefocusesonmymouth,thenbacktomyeyesagain,thenbacktomymouth.“Tate,”hewhispers.HesaysmynamesosoftlyI’mnotevensureifhismouthmoves.
Idon’thavetimetorespond.Hishandleavesthebuttonofmyshirtandslidesthroughmyhairatthesamemomentashislipsconnectfiercelywithmine.Heslideshisbodyontopofme,andhiskissinstantlybecomesintense.Deep.Dominating.Hiskissisfullofsomethingthat’sneverbeentherebefore.Fulloffeeling.Fullofhope
Untilthismoment,Ithoughtakisswasakisswasakiss.Ihadnoideakissescouldmeandifferentthingsandfeelsocompletelyoppositefromoneanother.Inthepast,I’vealwaysfeltpassionanddesireandlust…butthistime,it’sdifferent.
ThiskissisadifferentMiles,andIknowinmyheartthatit’stherealMiles.TheMilesheusedtobe.TheMilesI’mnotallowedtoaskabout.
???
Herollsoffofmewhenhe’sfinished.
Istareupattheceiling.
Myheadisfullofsomanyquestions.Myheartisfullofconfusion.Thisthingbetweenushasneverbeeneasy.Onewouldthinklimitingoneselftojustsexwouldbethesimplestthingintheworld,butitmakesmequestioneverymoveandeverywordthatcomesoutofmymouth.Ifindmyselfanalyzingeverylookhegivesme.
Idon’tevenknowwhatmoveI’msupposedtomakenext.DoIliehereuntilheasksmetoleave?I’veneverstayedthenightwithhimbefore.DoIrolloverandputmyarmsaroundhim,hopinghe’llholdmeinreturnuntilwefallasleep?I’mtooscaredhe’llrejectme.
I’mstupid.
I’mastupid,stupidgirl.
Whycan’tthisjustbesexforme,too?Whycan’tIcomeoverhere,givehimwhathewants,getwhatIwant,andleave?
Irollontomysideandslowlysitup.Ireachdownformyclothes,thenstandupanddressmyself.He’swatchingme.He’squiet.
IavoidlookingathimuntilI’mfullydressedandslippingonmyshoes.AsmuchasIwanttocrawlbackintothebedwithhim,Iwalktowardthedoorinstead.Idon’tturnaroundtofacehimwhenIsay,“Seeyoutomorrow,Miles.”
Imakeitallthewaytohisfrontdoor.Hedoesn’tspeak.Hedoesn’ttellmehe’llseemetomorrow,andhedoesn’ttellmegood-bye.
I’mhopinghissilenceisproofthathedoesn’tlikehowitfeelstobewalkedawayfrom.
Iopenthedoorandwalkacrossthehallandintomyapartment.Corbinisseatedonthecouch,watchingTV.Heglancesupatthedoorwhenhehearsmeenter,thenshootsmeacondescendinglookofdisapproval.
“Lightenup,”IsayasImakemywayinside.Islipoffmyshoesbythedoor.“Youhavetogetoverthiseventually.”
Iseehimshakehishead,butIignoreitandwalktowardmybedroom.
“Hewasscrewingyoubehindmybackandlyingtome,”Corbinsays.“That’snotsomethingI’llgetover.”
IfacethelivingroomagainandseethatCorbinislookingatme.“Didyouexpecthimtobeopenwithyouaboutit?MyGod,Corbin.YoukickedDillonoutofyourapartmentforlookingatmethewrongway.”
Corbinstandsup,angrynow.“Exactly!”heshouts.“IthoughtMileswasprotectingyoufromDillon,wheninreality,hewaslayingclaim!He’sagoddamnhypocrite,andI’llbepissedathimforaslongasIwanttobepissedathim,soyougetoverit!”
Ilaugh,becauseCorbinhasnorighttopointfingers.
“What’sfunny,Tate?”hesnaps.
Iwalkbacktothelivingroomandstanddirectlyinfrontofhim.“Mileshasbeennothingbuthonestwithmeaboutwhathewants.Hehasn’toncefedmealineofbullshit.I’mtheonlygirlhe’sbeenwithinsixyears,andyou’regoingtocallhimahypocrite?”Idon’teventrytokeepmyvoicedownanymore.“Youmightwanttolookinthemirror,Corbin.HowmanygirlshaveyoubeenwithsinceI’vemovedinhere?Howmanyofthemdoyouthinkhavebrotherswhowouldlovetokickyourassiftheyfoundoutaboutyou?Ifanyone’sthehypocritehere,it’syou!”
Hishandsareonhiships,andhe’swatchingmewithahardenedlookinhiseyes.Whenhefailstorespond,Iturntowalkbacktowardmyroom,butthefrontdooropenswithaknock.
Miles.
CorbinandIbothturn,justashepeekshisheadinside.“Everythinggoodoverhere?”heasks,steppingintothelivingroom.
IglanceatCorbin,andCorbinglaresatme.Iarchaneyebrow,waitingforhimtorespondtothequestionMilesposed,sincehe’stheonewiththeissue.
“Youokay,Tate?”Milesasks,addressingonlymenow.
Ilookbackoverathimandnod.“I’mfine,”Isay.“I’mnottheonewithunrealisticexpectationsofmysibling.”
Corbingroansloudly,thenturnsaroundandkicksthecouch.MilesandIwatchhimasheslideshishandsthroughhishairandgripsthebackofhisnecktightly.HeturnstofaceMilesagain,thenexhalesheavily.
“Whycouldn’tyouhavejustbeengay?”
Mileslooksathimwithcarefulconcentration.I’mwaitingforeitherofthemtohaveareaction,soI’llknowwhetherornotIcanbreathe.
Milesbeginstoshakehisheadassoonasasmileappearsonhisface.
Corbinstartstolaugh,buthegroansatthesametime,indicatingthathejustcametotermswithourarrangement,eventhoughhestillmaynotagreewithit.
Ismileandwalkquietlyoutoftheapartment,hopingthey’reabouttomendwhateverwasbrokenbetweenthemwhenIsteppedintothepicture.
Theelevatordoorsopenonthelobbylevel,andI’mpreparedtostepoff,butCapispoisedinfrontofthemasifhe’sabouttostepon.
“Youcomingforme?”heasks.
Inodandpointupward.“CorbinandMilesareworkingthingsoutupstairs.Iwasgivingthemaminute.”
Capstepsintotheelevatorandpressesthebuttonforthetwentiethfloor.“Well,Isupposeyoucanwalkmehome,”hesays.Hegrabsthebarsbehindhimforsupport.Istandnexttohimandleanagainstthewallbehindme.
“CanIaskyouaquestion,Cap?”
Hegivesmetheallclearwithanod.“IlovebeingaskedthemasmuchasIloveaskingthem.”
Ilookdownatmyshoes,crossingonefootovertheother.“Whatdoyouthinkwouldmakeamanneverwanttoexperienceloveagain?”
Capdoesn’tanswermyquestionforatleastfivefloors.Ieventuallylookathim,andhe’slookingrightatme,hiseyesnarrowed,producingevenmorewrinklesbetweenthem.“Isupposeifamanlivedthroughtheugliestsideoflove,hemightneverwanttoexperienceitagain.”
Icontemplatehisanswer,butitdoesn’thelpmuch.Idon’tseehowlovecouldgetuglyenoughforapersontojustshuthimselfofffromitcompletely.
Theelevatordoorsopentothetwentiethfloor,andIlethimstepofffirst.Iwalkwithhimtohisapartmentdoorandwaitforhimtoopenit.“Tate,”hesays.He’sfacinghisdoor,andhedoesn’tturnaroundtofinishhissentence.“Sometimesaman’sspiritjustain’tstrongenoughtowithstandtheghostsfromhispast.”Heopenshisapartmentdoorandwalksinside.“Maybethatboyjustlosthisspiritsomewherealongtheway.”Hecloseshisdoorandleavesmeattemptingtodecipherevenmoreconfusion.chaptertwenty-six
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
MyroomisRachel’snow.Rachel’sroomismyroom.
Wegraduated.Wemovedintogether.We’reincollegenow.
See?We’vegotthis.
Ianbringsinthelastoftheboxesfromthecar.“Wheredoyouwantthisone?”heasks.
“Whatisit?”Rachelaskshim.
Hetellsheritlookslikeaboxfullofherbrasandunderwear.Shelaughsandtellshimtosetitnexttomydresser.Iandoes.
IanlikesRachel.Ianlikesthatshe’snotholdingmeback.Ianlikesthatshewantsmetogetmydegreeandfinishflightschool.
Rachelwantsmetobehappy.ItellRachelI’llbehappyaslongasIhaveher.
Shetellsme,“Thenyou’llalwaysbehappy.”
Mydadstillhatesme.Mydaddoesn’twanttohateme.They’retryingtoacceptit,butit’shard.It’shardforeveryone.
Racheldoesn’tcarewhateveryonethinks.SheonlycareswhatIthink,andIonlythinkaboutRachel.
I’mlearningthatnomatterhowdifficultasituationis,peoplelearnhowtoadapttoit.Mydadandhermommaynotapprove,butthey’lladapt.
Rachelmaynotbereadytobeamom,andImaynotbereadytobeadad,butwe’readapting.
It’swhathastohappen.Ifpeoplewantpeacewithinthemselves,it’snecessary.
Vital,even.
???
“Miles.”
Ilovemynamewhenitcomesoutofhermouth.Shedoesn’twasteit.Sheonlysaysitwhensheneedssomething.Sheonlysaysitwhenitneedstobesaid.
“Miles.”
Shesaidittwice.
Shemustreallyneedsomething.
Irollover,andshe’ssittingupinbed.Shelooksatme,wide-eyed.
“Miles.”Threetimes.“Miles.”Four.“Ithurts.”
Shit.
Ijumpoutofbedandgrabourbag.IhelpRachelchangeclothes.Ihelphertothecar.
She’sscared.
Imightbemorescaredthansheis.
Iholdherhandwhilewedrive.Itellhertobreathe.Idon’tknowwhyItellherthis.Ofcourse,sheknowstobreathe.
Idon’tknowwhatelsetotellher.
Ifeelhelpless.
Maybeshewantshermom.
“Doyouwantmetocallthem?”
Sheshakesherhead.“Notyet,”shesays.“After.”
Shejustwantsittobeus.Ilikethis.Ijustwantittobeus,too.
Anursehelpsheroutofthecar.Theytakeustoaroom.IgetRachelwhateversheneeds.
“Doyouneedice?”
Igetitforher.
“Doyouwantacoldrag?”
Igetitforher.
“DoyouwantmetoturnofftheTV?”
Iturnitoff.
“Doyouwantanotherblanket,Rachel?Youlookcold.”
Idon’tgetherablanket.She’snotcold.
“Doyouwantmoreice?”
Shedoesn’twantmoreice.
Shewantsmetoshutup.
Ishutup.
“Givemeyourhand,Miles.”
Igiveittoher.
Iwantitback.
She’shurtingit.
Iletherkeepitanyway.
She’squiet.Shenevermakesasound.Shejustbreathes.She’sincredible.
I’mcrying.Idon’tknowwhy.
Iloveyousogoddamnmuch,Rachel
Thedoctortellshershe’salmostdone.Ikissherontheforehead.
Ithappens.
I’madad.
She’samom.
“It’saboy,”thedoctorsays.
She’sholdinghim.She’sholdingmyheart.
Hestopscrying.Hetriestoopenhiseyes.
Rachelcries.
Rachellaughs.
Racheltellsmethankyou.
Racheltellsmethankyou.Likeshewasn’ttheonewhocreatedthis.
Racheliscrazy.
“Ilovehimsomuch,Miles,”shesays.She’sstillcrying.“Ilovehimso,somuch.”
“Ilovehim,too,”Itellher.Itouchhim.Iwanttoholdhim,butIwanthertoholdhimevenmore.Shelooksbeautifulholdinghim.
Rachellooksupatme.“Willyoupleasetellmehisnamenow?”
IwashopinghewouldbeaboysoIcouldhavethismoment.IwashopingIcouldtellherwhatherson’snameis,becauseIknowshe’llloveit.
Ihopesheremembersthemoment
she
became
my
everything.
MilesisgoingtoshowyouthewaytoMr.Clayton’sclass,Rachel.
“HisnameisClayton.”
Shebeginstosob.
Sheremembers.
“It’sperfect,”shesays,herwordsmixedwithtears.
She’scryingtoohardnow.Shewantsmetoholdhim.
Isitonthebedwithherandtakehim.
I’mholdinghim.
I’mholdingmyson.
Rachelrestsherheadonmyarm,andwestareathim.
Westareathimforsolong.ItellRachelhehasherredhair.Rachelsayshehasmylips.ItellRachelIhopehehasherpersonality.Shedisagreesandsaysshehopeshe’sjustlikeme.
“Hemakeslifesomuchbetter,”shesays.
“Hesuredoes.”
“We’resolucky,Miles.”
“Wesureare.”
Rachelsqueezesmyhand.
“We’vegotthis,”Rachelwhispers.
“We’vesogotthis,”Itellher.
Claytonyawns,anditmakesusbothlaugh.
Sincewhendidyawnsbecomesoincredible?
Itouchhisfingers.
Weloveyousomuch,Clayton.chaptertwenty-seven
TATE
IdropdownintothechairbesideCap,stilldressedfromheadtotoeinmyscrubs.AssoonasIgothomefromwork,Istudiedfortwohoursstraight.It’salreadyafterten,andIhaven’tevenhadsupperyet,whichiswhyI’msittingnexttoCaprightnow,becausehe’sgettingtoknowmyhabitsandhadapizzaorderedforthetwoofus.
Ihandhimasliceandgrabmyown,thenshutthelidandsetitonthefloorinfrontofme.Ishoveahugebiteintomymouth,butCapisstaringdownatthesliceinhishand.
“It’sreallysadwhenpizzacanmakeittoyoufasterthanthepolice,”hesays.“Ijustorderedthistenminutesago.”Hetakesabiteandcloseshiseyeslikeit’sthebestthinghe’severtasted.
Webothfinishourslices,andIreachforanotherone.HeshakeshisheadwhenIofferhimasecondslice,soIputitbackinthebox.
“So?”hesays.“Anyprogressbetweentheboyandhisfriend?”
ItmakesmelaughthatheconstantlyreferstoMilesastheboy.Inodandrespondwithamouthful.“Kindof,”Isay.“Theyhadasuccessfulgamenight,butIthinkitwasonlysuccessfulbecauseMilespretendedIwasn’ttherethewholetime.Iknowhe’stryingtorespectCorbin,butitkindofmakesmefeellikeshitintheprocess,youknow?”
Capnodslikeheunderstands.I’mnotsurethathedoes,butIlikethathealwayslistenssoattentivelyanyway.“Ofcourse,hetextedmetheentiretimehewasinthelivingroomsittingnexttoCorbin,soIguessIhavethat.Butthenthereareweekslikethisweekwhenhe’snoteveninthesamestate,andit’slikeIdon’tevenexisttohim.Notexts.Nophonecalls.I’mprettysureheonlythinksaboutmewhenI’mwithintenfeetofhim.”
Capshakeshishead.“Idoubtthat.Ibetthatboythinksaboutyoualotmorethanheletson.”
I’dliketobelievethosewordstobetrue,butI’mnotsosuretheyare.
“Butifhedoesn’t,”Capsays,“youcan’tbemadathimforit.Wasn’tpartoftheagreement,now,wasit?”
Irollmyeyes.IhatethathealwaysbringsmebacktothefactthatMilesisn’ttheonebreakingrulesoragreements.I’mtheonewiththeproblemsinourarrangement,andthat’snoone’sfaultbutmyown.
“HowdidIgetmyselfintothismess?”Iask,notevenneedingananswer.IknowhowIgotmyselfintothismess.Ialsoknowhowtogetoutofit…Ijustdon’twantto.
“Youeverheardthatexpression,‘Whenlifegivesyoulemons…’?”
“Makelemonade,”Isay,finishinghisquote.
Caplooksatmeandshakeshishead.“That’snothowitgoes,”hesays.“Whenlifegivesyoulemons,makesureyouknowwhoseeyesyouneedtosqueezethemin.”
Ilaugh,grabanothersliceofpizza,andwonderhowinthehellIendedupwithaneighty-year-oldmanasmybestfriend.
???
Corbin’shomephoneneverrings.Especiallyaftermidnight.IthrowthecoversoffandgrabaT-shirt,thenpullitovermyhead.Idon’tknowwhyIbothergettingdressed.Corbin’sgone,andMilesisn’tduebackuntiltomorrow.
Imakeittothekitchenonthefifthring,rightastheansweringmachinepicksup.Icancelthemessage,thenputthephonetomyear.
“Hello?”
“Tate!”mymothersays.“Oh,myGod,Tate.”
Hervoiceispanicked,whichimmediatelycausesmetopanic.“Whatisit?”
“Aplane.Aplanecrashedabouthalfanhourago,andIcan’tgetthroughtotheairline.Haveyoutalkedtoyourbrother?”
Mykneesmeetthefloor.“Areyousureitwashisairline?”Iaskher.MyvoicesoundssoterrifiedIdon’tevenrecognizeit.Itsoundsasterrifiedashersdidthelasttimethishappened.
Iwasonlysix,butIremembereverysingledetailasifithappenedyesterday,downtothemoon-and-starpajamasIwaswearing.Myfatherwasonadomesticflight,andwehadturnedonthenewsrightafterdinnerandsawthatoneoftheplaneshadgonedownduetoenginefailure.Everyoneonboardwaskilled.Irememberwatchingmymotheronthephonewiththeairline,hysterical,tryingtofindoutinformationonwhothepilotwas.Wefoundoutitwasn’thimwithinthehour,butthathourwasoneofthescariestofourlives.
Untilnow.
Irushtomyroomandgrabmycellphoneoffmynightstandandimmediatelydialhisnumber.“Haveyoutriedcallinghim?”IaskmymotherasImakemywaybacktothelivingroom.Itrytomakeittothecouch,butforsomereason,thefloorseemsmorecomforting.Ikneeldownagain,almostasifI’minprayermode
IguessIam.
“Yes,I’vebeencallinghisphonenonstop.It’sjustgoingtovoicemail.”
It’sastupidquestion.Ofcourse,she’striedcallinghim.Itryagainanyway,buthisphonegoesdirectlytovoicemail.
Itrytoreassureher,butIknowit’spointless.Untilwehearhisvoice,reassurancewon’thelp.“I’llcalltheairline,”Itellher.“I’llcallyoubackifIhearanything.”
Shedoesn’tevensaygood-bye.
IusethehomephonetocalltheairlineandmycellphonetocallMiles.It’sthefirsttimeI’veeverdialedhisnumber.
Ipraythatheanswers,becauseasmuchasI’mscaredtodeathforCorbin,it’salsorunningthroughmyheadthatMilesworksforthesameairline.
Mystomachissick.
“Hello?”Milessaysonthesecondring.Hisvoicesoundshesitant,likehe’sunsurewhyI’mcalling.
“Miles!”Isay,bothfranticandrelieved.“Isheokay?IsCorbinokay?”
There’sapause.
Whyisthereapause?
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Aplane,”Isayimmediately.“Mymomcalled.Therewasaplanecrash.He’snotansweringhisphone.”
“Whereareyou?”hesaysquickly.
“Theapartment.”
“Letmein.”
Iwalktothedoorandunlockit.Hepushesthedooropenandstillhasthephonetohisear.Whenheseesme,hepullsthephoneaway,immediatelyrushestothecouch,grabstheremote,andturnsonthetelevision
HeflipsthroughthechannelsuntilhefindstheTVnewsreport.Hedialsnumbersonhiscellphone,thenturnsandrushestowardme.Hetakesmyhandinhis.“Comehere,”hesays,pullingmetohim.“I’msurehe’sfine.”
Inodagainsthischest,buthisreassuranceispointless.
“Gary?”hesayswhensomeoneanswersontheotherend.“It’sMiles.Yeah.Yeah,Iheard,”hesays.“Whowasthecrew?”
There’salongpause.I’mterrifiedtolookathim.Terrified.
“Thankyou.”Hehangsupthephone.“He’sokay,Tate,”hesaysimmediately.“Corbin’sfine.Ian,too.”
Ibreakdownintotearsofrelief.
Mileswalksmetothecouchandsitsdown,thenpullsmetohim.Hetakesmycellphoneoutofmyhandsandpressesseveralbuttonsbeforeputtingthephonetohisear.
“Hey,it’sMiles.Corbinisfine.”Hepausesforafewseconds.“Yeah,she’sfine.I’lltellhertocallyouinthemorning.”Afewmoresecondspass,andhesaysgood-bye.Hesetsthephoneonthecouchbesidehim.“Yourmom.”
Inod.Ialreadyknew.
Andthatsimplegesture,himcallingmymother,justmademefallforhimevenharder.
Nowhe’skissingthetopofmyhead,rubbinghishandupanddownmyarmreassuringly.
“Thankyou,Miles,”Itellhim.
Hedoesn’tsayyou’rewelcome,becausehedoesn’tthinkhedidanythingthatdeservesthanking.
“Didyouknowthem?”Iask.“Thecrewonboard?”
“No.Theywereoutofadifferenthub.Thenamesdidn’tsoundfamiliar.”
Myphonevibrates,soMileshandsitbacktome.Ilookatit,andit’satextfromCorbin.
Corbin:Incaseyou’veheardabouttheplane,justwantyoutoknowI’mfine.Icalledheadquarters,andMilesis,too.PleaseletMomknowifshehearsaboutit.Loveyou.
Receivinghistextfillsmewithevenmorerelief,nowthatIknowwithonehundredpercentcertaintythathe’sokay
“It’satextfromCorbin,”ItellMiles.“Hesaysyou’reokay.Incaseyouwereworried.”
Mileslaughs.“Sohecheckeduponme?”hesayswithagrin.“Iknewhecouldn’thatemeforever.”
Ismile.IlovethatCorbinwantedmetoknowthatMileswasokay.
Milescontinuestoholdme,andIsavoreverysecondofit.
“Whenishescheduledtocomehome?”
“Notfortwomoredays,”Isay.“Howlonghaveyoubeenhome?”
“Abouttwominutes,”hesays.“Ihadjustpluggedmyphoneintochargewhenyoucalled.”
“I’mgladyou’reback.”
Hedoesn’trespond.Hedoesn’ttellmehe’sgladtobeback.Insteadofsayingsomethingthatmightgivemefalsehope,hejustkissesme.
“Youknow,”hesays,pullingmeontohislap,“Ihatethecircumstancessurroundingthereasonyouprobablydidn’thavetimetoputonpants,butIlovethatyoudon’thaveonpants.”Hishandsslideupmythighs,andhepullsmecloseruntilwe’reflushtogether.Hekissesthetipofmynose,thenkissesmychin.
“Miles?”Irunmyhandsthroughhishairanddownhisneck,thenpausewiththemonhisshoulders.“Iwasalsoscareditcouldhavebeenyou,”Iwhisper.“That’swhyI’mgladyou’reback.”
Hiseyesgrowsoft,andtheworrylinesbetweenthemdisappear.Imaynotknowanythingabouthispastorhislife,butIdefinitelynoticethathehasn’tcalledanyonetoletthemknowhe’sokay.Thatmakesmesadforhim.
Hiseyesfallawayfrommineandlandonmychest.Hefingersthebottomedgesofmyshirt,thenslowlypullsitovermyhead.Ihavenothingbutapairofpantiesonnow.
Heleansforward,wrapshisarmsaroundmyback,andpullsmeagainsthismouth.Hislipsclosesoftlyovermynipple,andmyeyesshutinvoluntarily.Chillseruptovermyskinashishandsbegintoexploreeverybarepartofmybackandmythighs.Hismouthworksitswaytomyotherbreast,justashishandsslipinsidemypantiesatmyhips.
“IthinkIhavetoriptheseoffyou,becauseIsuredon’twantyoutomoveoffmylap,”hesays.
Ismile.“Finewithme.Ihavemorewherethesecamefrom.”
Icanfeelhimgrinagainstmyskinashishandspullattheelasticbandofmyunderwear.Hepullsononesidebutfailstotearthem.Hetriesrippingtheothersidetopullthemoffme,butnothinggives.
“You’regivingmeawedgie,”Isay,laughing.
Heletsoutafrustratedsigh.“It’salwayssomuchsexierwhentheydothisonTV.”
Ireadjustmyselfandsitupstraighter.“Tryitagain,”Iencourage.“Youcandoit,Miles.”
Hegrabstheleftsideofmypantiesandyanksthemhard.
“Ouch!”Iyell,scootinginthedirectionofhispulltolessenthepainoftheelasticdiggingintomyrightside.
Helaughsagainanddropshisfacetomyneck.“Sorry,”hesays.“Gotanyscissors?”
Icringeatthethoughtofhimcomingatmewithapairofscissors.Iscootoffofhimandstandup,thenpullmyunderweardown,kickingthemoffandawayfromme.
“Watchingyoudothatwastotallyworthmyfailedattemptatbeingsexy,”hesays.
Ismile.“Yourfailedattemptatbeingsexyactuallymadeyousexy.”
Mycommentmakeshimlaughagain.Iwalktowardhimandclimbbackontohislap.HerepositionsmesothatI’mstraddlinghimagain.“Myfailuresareaturn-onforyou?”heasksteasingly.
“Oh,yeah,”Imurmur.“Sohot.”
Hishandsareonmeagain,roamingacrossmybackanddownmyarms.“Youwouldhavelovedmefromtheagesofthirteentosixteen,”hesays.“Ifailedatprettymucheverything.Especiallyfootball.”
Igrin.“Nowwe’retalking.Tellmemore.”
“Baseball,”hesays,rightbeforehepresseshismouthtomyneck.Hekisseshiswayuptomyear.“Andonesemesterofworldgeography.”
“Holyshit.”Imoan.“Now,that’shot.”
Hemoveshislipstomymouthandpullsmeinforasoftkiss.Hebarelytoucheshismouthtomine.“Ifailedatkissing,too.Terribly.Ialmostchokedagirlwithmytongueonce.”
Ilaugh.
“Wantmetoshowyou?”
AssoonasInod,he’srepositioningusonthecouchuntilI’mlyingonmybackandhe’sontopofme.“Openyourmouth.”
Iopenit.Hedropshismouthtomineandshoveshistongueinside,givingmewhatisquitepossiblytheworstkissI’veeverexperienced.Ipushagainsthischest,attemptingtogethistongueoutofmymouth,buthedoesn’tbudge.Iturnmyfacetotheleft,andhebeginslickingmycheek,causingmetolaughevenharder.
“Oh,myGod,thatwasterrible,Miles!”
Hepullshismouthawayandlowershimselfontopofme.“Igotbetter.”
Inod.“That’safact,”Isay,agreeingwholeheartedly.
We’rebothsmiling.TherelaxedlookonhisfacefillsmewithsomanyemotionsIcan’tevenbegintoclassifythem.I’mhappy,becausewe’rehavingfuntogether.I’msad,becausewe’rehavingfuntogether.I’mangry,becausewe’rehavingfuntogetheranditmakesmewantsomuchmoreofthis.Somuchmoreofhim.
Wequietlystareateachother,untilheslowlydipshishead,pressingalongkissagainstmylips.Hebeginsplacingsoftkissesallovermymouthuntilthekissesbecomelongerandmoreintense.Histongueeventuallypartsmylips,andtheplayfulnessdisappears.
It’squiteseriousnow,asourkissesgrowmorehurriedandhisclothesbegintojoinmineonthefloor,piecebypiece.
“Thecouchoryourbed?”hewhispers.
“Both,”Ireply.
Heobliges.
???
Ifellasleepinmybed.
NexttoMiles.
Neitherofushaseverfallenasleepafterwardbefore.Oneofusalwaysleaves.AsmuchasI’mtryingtoconvincemyselfthatitmeansnothing,Iknowitdoes.Everytimewe’retogether,Igetalittlebitmoreofhim.Whetherit’saglimpseofhispastortimespentwithoutthesexoreventimespentsleeping,he’sgivingmemoreandmoreofhimself,littlebylittle.Ifeellikethisisbothgoodandbad.It’sgood,becauseIwantandneedsomuchmoreofhim,soeverylittlebitIgetisenoughtosatisfymewhenIbeginworryingabouteverythingIdon’tgetfromhim.Butit’salsobad,becauseeverytimeIgetalittlebitmoreofhim,anotherpartofhimgrowsmoredistant.Icanseeitinhiseyes.He’sworriedhe’sgivingmehope,andI’mafraidhe’lleventuallyjustpullawaycompletely.
EverythingwithMileswillcomecrashingdown.
It’sinevitable.He’ssoadamantaboutthethingshedoesn’twantoutoflife,andI’mstartingtounderstandjusthowseriousheis.SoasmuchasItrytoprotectmyheartfromhim,it’spointless.He’sgoingtobreakiteventually,yetIcontinuetoallowhimtofillit.EverytimeI’mwithhim,hefillsmyheartupmoreandmore,andthemoreit’sfilledwithpiecesofhim,themorepainfulit’llbewhenheripsitoutofmychestasthoughitneverbelongedthereinthefirstplace.
Ihearthevibrationofhisphoneandfeelhimrolloverandreachforitonthenightstandnexttohim.HethinksI’masleep,soIdon’tgivehimreasontothinkotherwise.
“Hey,”hewhispers.There’salongpause,andIstarttopanicinternally,wonderingwhohe’stalkingto.“Yeah,I’msorry.Ishouldhavecalledyou.Ifiguredyou’dbeasleep.”
Myheartisinmythroatnow,crawlingitswayup,tryingtoescapefromMilesandmeandthisentiresituation.Myheartknowsbymyreactiontothisphonecallthatit’sintrouble.Myhearthasjustgoneintofight-or-flightmode,andrightnow,it’sdoingeverythingitcantorun.
Idon’tblamemyheartonebit.
“Loveyou,too,Dad.”
Myheartslidesbackdownmythroatandfindsitsnormalhomeinmychestagain.It’shappyfornow.I’mhappy.Happythatheactuallydoeshavesomeonetocall.
Inthesamemoment,I’malsoremindedofhowlittleIknowabouthim.Howlittleheshowsme.Howmuchhehideshimselffromme,sothatwhenIfinallybreak,itwon’tbehisfault.
Itwon’tbeaquickbreak,either.It’llbeslowandpainful,filledwithsomanymomentslikethesethattearmeupfromtheinsideout.MomentswhenhethinksI’masleepandheslidesoutofmybed.MomentswhenIkeepmyeyesclosedbutlistenasheputsonhisclothes.MomentswhenImakesuremybreathingremainsregularincasehe’swatchingmewhenheleansovertokissmeontheforehead.
Momentswhenheleaves.
Becausehealwaysleaves.chaptertwenty-eight
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
“Whatifheturnsouttobegay?”Rachelasksme.“Wouldthatbotheryou?”
She’sholdingClayton,andwe’rebothsittingonthehospitalbed.I’monthefootofthebedfacingher,watchingherstareathim.
Shekeepsaskingmerandomquestions.Playingdevil’sadvocateagain.
Shesaysweneedtoworkthesethingsoutnowsowedon’trunintoanyparentingissuesinthefuture.
“Itwouldonlybothermeifhefeltlikehecouldn’ttalktousaboutit.Iwanthimtoknowhecantalktousaboutanything.”
RachelsmilesatClayton,butIknowhersmileisforme.
Becauseshelovedmyanswer.
“Whatifhedoesn’tbelieveinGod?”sheasks.
“Hecanbelievewhateverhewants.Ijustwanthisbeliefs—orlackthereof—tomakehimhappy.”
Shesmilesagain.
“Whatifhecommitsanawful,heinous,heartlesscrimeandgetssenttoprisonforlife?”
“IwouldquestionwhereIwentwrongasafather,”Itellher.
Shelooksupatme.“Well,basedonthisinterrogation,I’mconvincedhe’llnevercommitacrime,becauseyou’realreadythebestdadI’veeverknown.”
Nowshe’smakingmesmile.
Webothlookatthedoorwhenitopensandanursewalksin.Sheflashesaregretfulsmile.“It’stime,”shesays.
Rachelgroans,butIhavenoideawhatthenurseisreferringto.Rachelseestheconfusiononmyface.
“Hiscircumcision.”
Mystomachclenches.Iknowwediscussedthisduringthepregnancy,butI’msuddenlyhavingsecondthoughts,knowingwhathe’sabouttogothrough.
“It’snotsobad,”thenursesays.“Wenumbhimfirst.”
ShewalksovertoRachelandbeginstolifthimfromRachel’sarms,butIleanforward.
“Wait,”Itellher.“Letmeholdhimfirst.”
Thenursebacksupastep,andRachelhandsClaytontome.Ipullhiminfrontofmeandlookdownonhim.
“I’msosorry,Clayton.Iknowit’llhurt,andIknowit’semasculating,but—”
“He’sadayold,”Rachelinterjectswithalaugh.“There’shardlyanythingthatcanemasculatehimyet.”
Itellhertohush.ItellherI’mhavingafather-sonmoment,andsheneedstopretendshe’snothere.
“Don’tworry,yourmomlefttheroom,”IsaytoClayton,givingRachelawink.“Iwassaying,Iknowit’semasculating,butyou’llthankmelaterforit.Especiallywhenyou’reolderandyougetinvolvedwithgirls.Hopefullynotuntilafteryou’reeighteen,butit’llmorethanlikelybearoundtheageofsixteen.Itwasforme,anyway.”
Rachelleansforwardandholdsherarmsoutforhim.“That’senoughbonding,”shesays,laughing.“Ithinkweneedtoreviewtheboundariesoffather-sonconversationwhilehe’sbeingemasculated.”
IgivehimaquickkissonhisforeheadandhandhimbacktoRachel.Shedoesthesameandpasseshimontothenurse
Webothwatchasthenurseleavestheroomwithhim.
IlookbackatRachelandcrawltowardheruntilI’mlyingnexttoheronthebed.
“Wehavetheplacetoourselves,”Iwhisper.“Let’smakeout.”
Shegrimaces.“Idon’tfeelsexyrightnow,”shesays.“Mystomachisflabby,andmyboobsareengorged,andIneedashowersobad,butithurtstoomuchtotrytotakeonerightnow.”
Ilookdownatherchestandpullatthecollaronherhospitalgown.Ipeerdownhershirtandgrin.“Howlongdotheystaylikethis?”
Shelaughsandpushesmyhandaway.
“Well,howdoesyourmouthfeel?”Iaskher.
Shelooksatmelikeshedoesn’tunderstandmyquestion,soIelaborate.
“I’mjustwonderingifyourmouthhurtsliketherestofyouhurts,becauseifitdoesn’t,Iwanttokissyou.”
Shegrins.“Mymouthfeelsgreat.”
Iriseuponmyelbowsoshedoesn’thavetorolltowardme.Ilookdownonher,andseeingherbeneathmefeelsdifferentnow.
Itfeelsreal.
Untilyesterday,itreallydidfeellikewehadbeenplayinghouse.Ofcourse,ourloveisreal,andourrelationshipisreal,butuntilIwitnessedhergivelifetomysonyesterday,everythingIfeltbeforethatmomentwaslikechild’splaycomparedtowhatIfeelforhernow.
“Iloveyou,Rachel.MorethanIlovedyouyesterday.”
HereyesarelookingupatmelikesheknowsexactlywhatI’mtalkingabout.“Ifyoulovememoretodaythanyoulovedmeyesterday,thenIcan’twaitfortomorrow,”shesays.
Mylipsfalltohers,andIkissher.NotbecauseIshouldbutbecauseIneedto.
???
I’mstandingoutsideRachel’shospitalroom.SheandClaytonarebothintheroom,napping.
Thenursesaidhehardlyevencried.I’msureshetellsalltheparentsthat,butIbelieveheranyway.
ItakeoutmyphonetotextIan.
Me:Hegotsnippedafewhoursago.Tookitlikeachamp.
Ian:Ouch.I’mcomingtomeethimtonight.I’llbethereafterseven.
Me:Seeyouthen.
Myfatheriswalkingtowardmewithtwocoffeesinhishands,soIslidemyphoneintomybackpocket.
Hehandsmeoneofthecoffees.
“Helookslikeyou,”hesays.
He’stryingtoacceptit.
“Well,Ilookjustlikeyou,”Isay.“Cheerstostronggenes.”
Iholdmycoffeeup,andmydadbumpshisagainstit,smiling.
He’strying.
Heleansagainstthewallforsupportandlooksdownathiscoffee.Hewantstosaysomething,butit’shardforhim
“Whatisit?”Iask,givinghimtheopeningheneeds.Heliftshiseyesfromtheirfocusonthecoffee,andhemeetsmygaze.
“I’mproudofyou,”hesayswithsincerity.
It’sasimplestatement.
Fourwords.
FourofthemostimpactfulwordsI’veeverheard.
“Ofcourse,it’snotwhatIwantedforyou.Noonewantstoseehissonbecomeadadattheageofeighteen,but…I’mproudofyou.Forhowyou’vehandledit.Forhowyou’vetreatedRachel.”Hesmiles.“Youmadethebestofadifficultsituation,andthat’shonestlymorethanmostadultswoulddo.”
Ismile.Itellhimthankyou.
Ithinktheconversationisover,butit’snot.
“Miles,”hesays,wantingtoaddmore.“AboutLisa…andyourmom?”
Iholdmyhanduptostophim.Idon’twanttohavethisconversationtoday.Idon’twantthisdaytobecomehisdefenseforwhathedidtomymother.
“It’sfine,Dad.We’lldiscussitanothertime.”
Hetellsmeno.Hesaysheneedstodiscussitwithmenow.
Hetellsmeit’simportant.
Iwanttotellhimit’snotimportant.
IwanttotellhimClaytonisimportant
IwanttofocusonClaytonandRachelandforgetallaboutthefactthatmyfatherishumanandmakesawfulchoicesliketherestofus.
ButIdon’tsayanyofthat.
Ilisten.
Becausehe’smyfather.chaptertwenty-nine
TATE
Miles:Whatareyoudoing?
Me:Homework.
Miles:Feelliketakingaswimbreak?
Me:???It’sFebruary.
Miles:Therooftoppoolisheated.Itdoesn’tcloseforanotherhour.
Istareatthetext,thenimmediatelylookupatCorbin.“There’sarooftoppoolhere?”
Corbinnodshisheadbutdoesn’tlookawayfromtheTV.“Yep.”
Isitupstraight.“Areyoukiddingme?I’velivedherethislong,andyoufailtotellmethere’saheatedrooftoppool?”
Hefacesmenowandshrugs.“Ihatepools.”
Ugh.Icouldslaphim.
Me:Corbinnevermentionedtherewasapool.Letmechange,andI’llheadoverthere.
Miles:??
???
IrealizeIforgottoknockassoonasIclosethedoortohisapartment.Ialwaysknock.IguessmymentioninginatextthatIwascomingoverafterIchangedseemedgoodenoughtome,butthewayMilesisstaringatmefromthedoorwayofhisbedroommakesmethinkhedoesn’tlikethefactthatIdidn’tknock.
Ipauseinhislivingroomandlookathim,waitingtoseewhatmoodhe’sintoday.
“You’reinabikini,”hesayspointedly.
Ilookdownatmyattire.“Andshorts,”Isaydefensively.Ilookbackupathim.“WhatarepeoplesupposedtowearwhentheyswiminFebruary?”
He’sstillstandingfrozeninhisdoorway,staringatmyattire.Ifoldmytowelacrossmyarmsandovermystomach.Isuddenlyfeelextremelyawkwardandunderdressed.
Heshakeshisheadandfinallybeginsmovingtowardme.“Ijust…”He’sstillstaringatmybikini.“Ihopenooneisupthere,becauseifyou’rewearingthatbikini,theseswimshortsaregoingtobereallyembarrassing.”Helooksdownathisshorts.Attheobviousbulgeinthem.
Ilaugh.Soheactuallylikesthebikini.
Hetakesanotherstepforwardandslideshishandsaroundtothebackofmyshorts,thenpullsmeagainsthim.“Ichangedmymind,”hesayswithagrin.“Iwanttostayhere.”
Iimmediatelyshakemyhead.“I’mgoingswimming,”Isay.“Youcanstayhereifyouwant,butyou’llbealone.”
Hekissesme,thenbacksmetowardhisapartmentdoor.“ThenIguessI’mgoingswimming,”hesays.
???
Milesentersthepasscodeforrooftopaccess,thenopensthedoorforme.I’mrelievedtoseethatnooneelseisouthere,andIamtakenbyhowbreathtakinglybeautifulitis.It’saninfinitypool,overlookingthecity,andit’slinedwithpatiochairs,allthewaytotheoppositeend,whereit’scappedoffwithanattachedhottub.
“Ican’tbelieveneitherofyouthoughttomentionthisbeforenow,”Isay.“Allthesemonths,andI’vebeenmissingout.”
Milestakesmytowelandlaysitononeofthetablessurroundingthepool.Hewalksbackovertomeanddropshishandstothebuttononmyshorts.“ThisisactuallythefirsttimeI’veeverbeenouthere.”Heunzipsmyshortsandpushesthemovermyhips.Hislipsareclosetomine,andhisexpressionisplayful.“Comeon,”hewhispers.“Let’sgetwet.”
Ikickofftheshortsatthesametimeashetakesoffhisshirt.Theairisincrediblycold,butthesteamrisingfromthewaterispromising.Iwalktotheshallowendtodescendthesteps,butMilesdivesheadfirstintothedeependofthepool.Istepin,andmyfeetareswallowedupinthewarmthofthewater,soIquicklystepintherestoftheway.Imakemywaytowardthemiddleofthepoolandwalktotheedge,thenrestmyarmsontheconcreteledgelookingoutoverthecity.
Milesswimsupbehindmeandcagesmeinbypressinghischestagainstmybackandplacinghishandsoneithersideoftheledge.Herestshisheadagainstmineaswebothtakeintheview.
“It’sbeautiful,”Iwhisper.
He’squiet.
Wewatchthecityinsilenceforwhatseemslikeforever.Everynowandthen,he’llcuphishandsandbringwateruptomyshoulderstowarmmychillsaway
“HaveyoualwayslivedinSanFrancisco?”Iaskhim.IturnsothatmybackisagainsttheledgenowandI’mfacinghim.Hekeepshisarmsoneithersideofmeandnods.
“Closetoit,”hesays,stilllookingatthecityovermy-shoulder.
Iwanttoaskhimwhere,butIdon’t.Icantellbyhisbodylanguagethathedoesn’twanttotalkabouthimself.Heneverwantstotalkabouthimself.
“Areyouanonlychild?”Iask,tryingtoseewhatIcangetawaywith.“Anybrothersorsisters?”
Helooksmeintheeyesnow.Hislipsarepressedintoafirm,agitatedline.“Whatareyoudoing,Tate?”Hedoesn’taskitinarudeway,butthere’snootherwayhisquestioncancomeacross.
“Justmakingconversation,”Isay.Myvoiceissoftandsoundsoffended.
“IcanthinkofalotmorethingsI’drathertalkaboutthanmyself.”
Butthat’sallIwanttoknowabout,Miles.
Inod,understandingthatalthoughI’mtechnicallynotbreakinghisrules,I’mbendingthem.Hedoesn’tfeelcomfortablewiththat.
Iturnaroundandfacetheledgeagain.He’sstillinthesameposition,pressedagainstme,butit’sdifferentnow.He’sstiff.Guarded.Defensive.
Idon’tknowanythingabouthim.Idon’tknowasinglethingabouthisfamily,andhe’salreadymetmine.Idon’tknowasinglethingabouthispast,buthe’ssleptinmychildhoodbed.Idon’tknowwhatsubjectsIbringuporwhatactionsItakethatwillcausehimtocloseoff,butI’vegotnothingtohidefromhim.
HeseesmeforexactlywhoIam.
Idon’tseehimatall.
Iquicklybringahandupandwipeawayatearthatsomehowjustescapeddownmycheek.TheabsolutelastthingIwantisforhimtoseemecry.AsmuchasIknowI’mtoofargonetocontinuetreatingthisascasualsex,I’malsotoofargonetostopit.I’mterrifiedtolosehimforgood,soIsellmyselfshortandtakewhatIcanfromhim,eventhoughIknowIdeservebetter.
Milesplacesahandonmyshoulderandturnsmearoundtofacehim.WhenIchoosetostaredownatthewaterinstead,hehooksafingerundermychinandmakesmelookupathim.Iallowhimtotiltmyfaceuptohis,butIdon’tmakeeyecontact.Ilookupandtotheright,attemptingtoblinkbackthetears.
“I’msorry.”
Idon’tevenknowwhathe’sapologizingfor.Idon’tevenknowifheknowswhathe’sapologizingfor.Butwebothknowmytearshaveeverythingtodowithhim,sohe’smorethanlikelyjustapologizingforthatsimplereasonalone.Becauseheknowshe’sincapableofgivingmewhatIwant.
Hestopsmakingmelookathimandinsteadpullsmetohischest.Irestmyearagainsthisheart,andherestshischinontopofmyhead.
“Doyouthinkweshouldstop?”heasksquietly.Hisvoiceisfearful,likehe’shopingmyanswerisno,yethefeelscompelledtoaskmeanyway.
“No,”Iwhisper.
Hesighsheavily.Itsoundslikeitcouldbeasighofrelief,butI’mnotsure.“IfIaskyousomething,willyoubehonestwithme?”
Ishrug,becausethere’snowayI’mansweringthatwithayesuntilIhearhisquestionfirst.
“AreyoustilldoingthiswithmebecauseyouthinkI’llchangemymind?Becauseyouthinkthere’sachanceI’llfallinlovewithyou?”
That’stheonlyreasonI’mstilldoingthis,Miles.
Idon’tsaythatoutloud,though.Idon’tsayanything.
“BecauseIcan’t,Tate.Ijust…”Hisvoicefadesaway,andhegrowsquiet.IanalyzehiswordsandthefactthathesaidIcan’tratherthanIwon’t.Iwanttoaskhimwhyhecan’t.Ishescared?IsitbecauseI’mnotrightforhim?Isheafraidhe’llbreakmyheart?Idon’taskhim,becausenoneofhisanswerstothesequestionswouldreassureme.Noneofthesescenariosisreasonenoughtoabsolutelydenyahearthappiness.
WhichiswhyIdon’tquestionhim,becauseIfeellikemaybeI’mnotpreparedforthetruth.MaybeI’munderestimatingwhateveritwasthathappenedinhispasttomakehimthisway.Becausesomethinghappened.SomethingImorethanlikelycouldn’trelateto,evenifIfoundoutwhatitwas.Somethingthatstolethespiritrightoutofhim,justlikeCapsaid.
Hisarmspullmeintighter,andtheholdhehasonmespeaksvolumes.It’smorethananembrace.Morethanahug.He’sholdingmelikehe’sterrifiedI’ddrownifheweretoreleaseme.
“Tate,”hewhispers.“IknowI’llregretsayingthis,butIwantyoutohearit.”Hepullsbackjustenoughforhislipstomeetmyhair,thengripsmetightlyagain.“IfIwerecapableoflovingsomeone…itwouldbeyou.”Myheartcrackswithhiswords,andIfeelthehopeseepinandleakrightbackoutagain.“ButI’mnotcapable.Soifit’stoohard—”
“It’snot,”Iinterrupt,doingwhateverIcantostophimfromendingthis.IsomehowfinditinmetolookhimintheeyesandtellthebestlieI’veevertoldinmywholelife.“Ilikethingsexactlyhowtheyare.”
HeknowsI’mlying.Icanseethedoubtinhisconcernedeyes,buthenodsanyway.Itrytogethismindoffofitbeforeheseesrightthroughme.Iwrapmyarmslooselyaroundhisneck,buthisattentionispulledtothedoor,whichisnowopening.Iturn,too,andseeCapslowlyshufflinghiswayontotherooftopdeck.Hewalkstowardtheswitchonthewallthatturnsoffthejetstothehottub.Heflipsitoffandslowlyturnsbacktowardthedoorbutnotbeforenoticingusoutofthecornerofhiseye.Heturnsandfacesusfullon,standingnomorethanfivefeetaway.
“Thatyou,Tate?”hesays,squinting.
“It’sme,”Isay,stillinthesamepositionwithMiles.
“Hmm,”Capsays,takingusbothin.“Anyoneevertoldthetwoofyouthatyoumakeaprettydarngood-lookingcouple?”
Iwince,becauseIknowthisisn’tthebestmomentforMilestohearthat,especiallyaftertheawkwardconversationwejusthad.IalsoknowwhatCapisuptowiththatcomment.
“We’llshutthelightsoffwhenweleave,Cap,”Milessays,ignoringCap’squestionandredirectingtheconversation.
Capnarrowshiseyesathim,shakeshisheadasthoughhe’sdisappointed,andbeginstoturnbacktothedoor.“Itwasarhetoricalquestionanyway,”hemumbles.Iseehishandgouptohisforehead,andhesalutestheairinfrontofhim.“Goodnight,Tate,”hesaysloudly.
“Goodnight,Cap.”
MilesandIbothwatchuntilthedoorclosesbehindCap.Ipullmyhandsawayfromhisneckandgentlypushagainsthischestuntilhestepsbackinorderformetomakemywayaroundhim.Iswimbackwardtowardtheothersideofthepool.
“Whyareyoualwayssorudetohim?”Iask.
Mileslowershimselfinthewater,partinghisarmsinfrontofhimandkickingoffthewallbehindhim.Heswimstowardme,andIwatchashiseyesremainfocusedonmine.Iswimbackwarduntilmybackisagainsttheoppositewallofthepool.Hecontinuestowardme,almostcrashingintome,buthestopshimselfbygrippingtheledgeonbothsidesofmyhead,sendingwavesofwateragainstmychest.
“I’mnotrudetohim.”Hislipsmeetmyneck,andhekissesitsoftly,trailingslowlyupwarduntilhismouthisclosetomyear.“Ijustdon’tlikeansweringquestions.”
Ithinkwe’veestablishedthatalready
Ipullmyneckawayafewinchesinordertoseehisface.Itrytofocusonhiseyes,buttherearedropsofwateronhislips,andit’shardnottostare.“He’sanoldman,though.You’renotsupposedtoberudetooldpeople.Andhe’sprettydamnfunny,ifyou’djustgettoknowhim.”
Mileslaughsalittle.“Youlikehim,huh?”Heseemsamused.
Inod.“Yeah.Ilikehimalot.SometimesIlikehimmorethanIlikeyou.”
Helaughsloudlythistimeandleansinagain,plantingakissonmycheek.Hishandconformstothenapeofmyneck,andhiseyesdroptomymouth.“Ilikethatyoulikehim,”hesays,bringinghiseyesuptomine.“Iwon’tberudetohimagain.Promise.”
Ibitemylipsothathedoesn’tseehowmuchIwanttosmileatthefactthathejustmademeapromise.Itwasasimplepromise.Butitstillfeelsgood.
Heslideshishandaroundtomyjaw,andhisthumbmeetsmylip.Hepullsitawayfrommyteeth.“WhatdidItellyouabouthidingthatsmile?”Hetakesmybottomlipbetweenhisteethandbitesitgently,thenreleasesit.
Itfeelsasifthetemperatureinthepooljustshotuptwentydegrees.
Hismouthmeetsmythroat,andhebreathesoutaheavysighagainstmyskin.Itiltmyheadbackandletitrestagainsttheledgeofthepoolashekisseshiswaydownmyneck.
“Idon’twanttoswimanymore,”hesays,slidinghislipsfromthebaseofmythroatallthewayuptomymouthagain.
“Well,then,whatdoyouwanttodo?”Iwhisperweakly.
“You,”hesayswithouthesitation.“Inmyshower.Frombehind.”
Iswallowahugegulpofairandfeelitfallallthewaytothepitofmystomach.“Wow.That’sveryspecific.”
“Andalsoinmybed,”hewhispers.“Withyouontop,stillsoakingwetfromtheshower.”
Iinhalesharply,andwecanbothhearthetrembleofmybreathasIexhale.“Okay,”Itrytosay,buthismouthisonminebeforethewordisevenallthewayout.
Andonceagain,whatshouldhavebeenaneye-openingconversationformeisshovedasidetomakeroomfortheonlythinghe’swillingtogiveme.chapterthirty
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
Wequietlywalktoanemptywaitingarea.Myfathersitsfirst,andIreluctantlysitacrossfromhim.
Iwaitforhisconfession,buthedoesn’tknowIdon’tneedit.IknowabouthisrelationshipwithLisa.
Iknowhowlongit’sbeengoingon.
“YourmotherandI…”He’slookingatthefloor.
Hecan’tevenmakeeyecontactwithme
“Wedecidedtoseparatewhenyouweresixteen.However,withasmuchasItraveled,itmadefinancialsenseforustowaituntilyougraduatedbeforefilingfordivorce,sothat’swhatwedecidedtodo.”
Sixteen?
ShegotsickwhenIwassixteen.
“WehadbeensplitupforalmostayearwhenImetLisa.”
He’slookingatmenow.He’sbeinghonest.
“Whenshefoundoutshewassick,itwastherightthingtodo,Miles.Shewasyourmother,andIwasn’tgoingtoleaveherwhensheneededmethemost.”
Mychesthurts.
“Iknowyou’veputtwoandtwotogether,”hesays.“Iknowyou’vedonethemath.Iknowyou’vebeenhatingme,thinkingIwashavinganaffairwhileshewassick,andIhatedallowingyoutothinkthat.”
“Thenwhydidyou?”Iaskhim.“Whydidyouletmethinkthat?”
Helooksattheflooragain.“Idon’tknow,”hesays.“Ithoughtmaybetherewasachancethatyoudidn’trealizeI’dbeendatingLisaforlongerthanIleton,soIthoughtbringingitupwoulddomoreharmthangood.Ididn’tlikethethoughtofyouknowingmymarriagewithyourmotherhadfailed.Ididn’twantyoutothinkshediedunhappy.”
“Shedidn’t,”Ireassurehim.“Youwerethereforher,Dad.Webothwere.”
HeappreciatesthatIsaythis,becauseheknowsit’strue.
Mymotherwashappywithherlife.
Happywithme.
Itmakesmewonderifshe’dbedisappointednow,seeinghowthingshaveturnedout.
“Shewouldbeproudofyou,Miles,”hesaystome.“Withhowyou’vehandledyourself.”
Ihughim.
IneededtohearthatmorethanIknew.chapterthirty-one
TATE
I’mtryingtolistentoCorbingoonabouthisconversationwithMom,butallIcanthinkaboutisthefactthatMilesisduehomeanyminutenow.It’sbeentendayssincehe’sbeenhome,andthat’sthelongestwe’vegonewithoutseeingeachothersincetheweekswespentnotspeaking.
“HaveyoutoldMilesyet?”Corbinasks.
“Toldhimwhat?”
Corbinfacesme.“Thatyou’removingout.”Hepointsatthepotholderonthecounternexttome.
Itosshimthepotholderandshakemyhead.“Ihaven’ttalkedtohimsincelastweek.I’llprobablytellhimtonight.”
Honestly,I’vewantedtotellhimIfoundmyownapartmentallweek,butthatwouldinvolveeithercallingortextinghim,twothingswedon’tdo.Theonlytimeswetexteachotherarewhenwe’rebothhome.Ithinkwedothisbecauseithelpsusmaintainourboundaries
It’snotlikethemoveisabigdealanyway.I’monlymovingafewblocksaway.Ifoundanapartmentthat’sclosertobothworkandschool.It’sdefinitelynodowntownhigh-rise,butIloveit.
Idowonder,though,howitwillaffectthingsbetweenMilesandme.Ithinkthat’soneofthereasonsIhaven’tmentionedthatIwasevenlookingformyownplace.There’safearinthebackofmymindthatnotbeingrightacrossthehallfromhimwillbecometooinconvenient,andhe’lljustcalloffwhateverisgoingonbetweenus.
CorbinandIbothlookupassoonastheapartmentdooropensandthere’saquickknockonit.IglanceatCorbin,andherollshiseyes.
He’sstilladapting.
Mileswalksintothekitchen,andIseethesmilethatwantstospreadacrosshisfacewhenheseesme,buthekeepsitincheckwhenheseesCorbin.
“Whatareyoucooking?”Milesaskshim.Heleansagainstthewallandfoldshisarmsacrosshischest,buthiseyesarescrollingupmylegs.TheypausewhenheseesI’mwearingaskirt,andthenhesmilesinmydirection.Luckily,Corbinisstillfacingthestove.
“Dinner,”Corbinsayswithaclippedvoice.
Hetakesawhiletoadapt.
Mileslooksatmeagainandstaresforafewsilentseconds.“Hey,Tate,”hesays.
Igrin.“Hey.”
“Howweremidterms?”Hiseyesareeverywhereonmebutmyface.
“Good,”Isay.
Hemouths,Youlookpretty.
IsmileandwishmorethananythingthatCorbinwasn’tstandinghererightnow,becauseit’stakingallIhavenottothrowmyarmsaroundMilesandkissthehelloutofhim.
CorbinknowswhyMilesishere.MilesandIjusttrytorespectthefactthatCorbinstilldoesn’tlikewhat’sgoingonbetweenus,sowekeepitbehindcloseddoors.
Milesischewingontheinsideofhischeek,fidgetingwithhisshirtsleeve,watchingme.It’squietinthekitchen,andCorbinstillhasn’tturnedaroundtoacknowledgehim.Mileslookslikehe’sabouttoburstattheseams.
“Fuckit,”hesays,glidingacrossthekitchentowardme.Hetakesmyfaceinhishandsandkissesme,hard,infrontofCorbin.
He’skissingme.
InfrontofCorbin.
Don’tanalyzethis,Tate.
He’spullingmyhands,draggingmeoutofthekitchen.AsfarasIknow,Corbinisstillfacingthestove,tryinghisbesttoignoreus.
Stilladapting.
Wegettothelivingroom,andMilesseparateshismouthfrommine.“Ihaven’tbeenabletothinkaboutanythingelsetoday,”hesays.“Atall.”
“Me,neither.”
Hepullsmebythehandtowardthefrontdoor.Ifollow.Heopensit,walkstohisapartment,andpullshiskeysoutofhispocket.Hisluggageisstilloutsideinthehallway.
“Whyisyourluggageouthere?”
Milespushesopenhisapartmentdoor.“Ihaven’tbeenhomeyet,”hesays.Heturnsaroundandgrabshisthingsfromthehallway,thenholdsthedooropenforme.
“Youcametomyapartmentfirst?”
Henods,thentosseshisduffelbagontothecouchandpusheshissuitcaseagainstthewall.“Yep,”hesays.Hegrabsmyhandandpullsmetohim.“Itoldyou,Tate.Haven’tthoughtaboutanythingelse.”Hesmilesandlowershisheadtokissme
Ilaugh.“Aw,youmissedme,”Isayteasingly.
Hepullsback.YouwouldthinkI’djusttoldhimIlovedhimwiththewayhisbodytensesup.
“Relax,”Isay.“You’reallowedtomissme,Miles.Itdoesn’tbreakyourrules.”
Hebacksupafewsteps.“Youthirsty?”heasks,changingthesubjectlikehealwaysdoes.Heturnsandheadstowardthekitchen,buteverythingabouthimjustchanged.Hisdemeanor,hissmile,hisexcitementoverfinallyseeingmeaftertendays.
Istandinthelivingroomandwatchitallcrumble.
I’mhitbyarealitycheck,butitfeelsmorelikeameteor.
Thismancan’tevenadmitthathemissesme.
I’vebeenholdingouthopethatifItakeitslowlyenoughwithhim,he’lleventuallybreakthroughwhateveritisthat’sholdinghimback.Theentirepastfewmonths,I’vebeenundertheassumptionthatmaybehejustcan’thandlethewaythingshavedevelopedbetweenusandheneedstime,butit’sclearnow.It’snothim.
It’sme.
I’mtheonewhocan’thandlethisthingbetweenus.
“Youokay?”Milessaysfromthekitchen.Hewalksoutfrombehindtheobstructedviewofthecabinetssohecanseeme.Hewaitsformetoanswerhim,butIcan’t.
“Didyoumissme,Miles?”
Andupcomesthearmoragain,shieldinghim.Helooksawayandwalksbackintothekitchen.“Wedon’tsaythingslikethat,Tate,”hesays.Thehardnessisbackinhisvoice.
Isheserious?
“Wedon’t?”Itakeafewstepstowardthekitchen.“Miles.It’sacommonphrase.Itdoesn’tmeancommitment.Itdoesn’tevenmeanlove.Friendssayittofriends.”
Heleansagainstthebarinthekitchenandcalmlylooksupatme.“Butwewereneverfriends.AndIdon’twanttobreakyouroneandonlyrulebygivingyoufalsehope,soI’mnotsayingit.”
Ican’texplainwhathappenstome,becauseIdon’tknow.Butit’sasifeverysinglethinghe’seversaidanddonethat’shurtmeimpalesmeallatonce.Iwanttoscreamathim.Iwanttohatehim.Iwanttoknowwhatthehellhappenedthatmadehimcapableofsayingthingsthatcanhurtmemorethananyotherwordshaveevercomeclosetodoing.
I’mtiredoftreadingwater.
I’mtiredofpretendingit’snotkillingmetowanttoknoweverythingabouthim.
I’mtiredofpretendinghe’snoteverywhere.Everything.Myonlything.
“Whatdidshedotoyou?”Iwhisper.
“Don’t,”hesays.Thewordisawarning.Athreat.
I’msotiredofseeingthepaininhiseyesandnotknowingthereasonforit.I’mtiredofnotknowingwhatwordsareoff-limitswithhim.
“Tellme.”
Helooksawayfromme.“Gohome,Tate.”Heturnsaroundandgripstheedgeofthecounter,droppinghisheadbetweenhisshoulders.
“Fuckyou.”Iturnandexitthekitchen.WhenIreachthelivingroom,Ihearhimcomingafterme,soIspeedup.Imakeittothefrontdoorandopenit,buthispalmmeetsthedoorabovemyhead,andheslamsitshut.
Isqueezemyeyestightly,bracingforwhateverwordsareabouttocompletelyslayme,becauseIknowtheywill.
Hisfaceisrightnexttomyear,andhischestispressedagainstmyback.“That’swhatwe’vebeendoing,Tate.Fucking.I’vemadethatclearfromdayone.”
Ilaugh,becauseIdon’tknowwhatelsetodo.Iturnaroundandlookupathim.Hedoesn’tbackaway,andhe’ssomuchmoreintimidatinginthismomentthanI’veeverseenhimbebefore.
“Youthinkyou’vemadethatclear?”Iaskhim.“Youaresofullofshit,Miles.”
Hestilldoesn’tmove,buthisjawtenses.“HowhaveInotbeenclear?Tworules.Can’tgetanysimplerthanthat.”
Ilaughincredulously,thengeteverythingoffmychestatonce.“There’sahugedifferencebetweenfuckingsomeoneandmakinglovetothem.Youhaven’tfuckedmeinmorethanamonth.Everytimeyou’reinsideme,you’remakinglovetome.Icanseeitinthewayyoulookatme.Youmissmewhenwearen’ttogether.Youthinkaboutmeallthetime.Youcan’tevenwaittensecondstowalkinyourownfrontdoorbeforecomingtoseeme.Sodon’tyoudaretrytotellmeyou’vebeenclearfromdayone,becauseyouarethemurkiestgoddamnmanI’veevermet.”
Ibreathe.
Ibreatheforthefirsttimeinwhatfeelslikeamonth.
Hecandowhathewantswithallthat.I’mdonetrying.
Heblowsoutasteady,controlledbreathwhilehebacksseveralstepsawayfromme.Hewincesandturnsaroundasifhedoesn’twantmetoreadtheemotionsthatareobviouslypresentsomewheredeepwithinhim.Hishandsgripthebackofhisnecktightly,andheremainsinthispositionforasolidminutewithoutmoving.Hebeginstoblowoutsteadybreathaftersteadybreath,asifhe’sdoingeverythinginhispowertopullhimselftogetherandnotcry.MyheartbeginstoachewhenIrealizewhat’shappening.
He’sbreaking.
“Oh,God,”hewhispers.Hisvoiceiscompletelypain-ridden.“WhatamIdoingtoyou,Tate?”
Hewalkstothewallandfallsagainstit,thenslidestothefloor.Hiskneescomeup,andherestshiselbowsonthem,coveringhisfacewithhishandstostophisemotions.Hisshouldersbegintoshake,buthe’snotmakingasound
He’scrying.
MilesArcheriscrying.
It’sthesameheart-wrenchingcrythatcamefromhimthenightImethim.
Thisgrownman,thiswallofintimidation,thissolidveilofarmor,he’scompletelycrumblingrightinfrontofmyeyes.
“Miles?”Iwhisper.Myvoiceisweakcomparedwithhismassivesilence.Iwalktohimandlowermyselftomykneesinfrontofhim.Iwrapmyarmaroundhisshouldersandlowermyheadtohis.
Idon’taskhimwhat’swrongagain,becausenowI’mterrifiedtoknow.chapterthirty-two
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
LisalovesClayton.
MydadlovesClayton.
Claytonfixesfamilies.
He’salreadymyhero,andhe’sonlytwodaysold.
ShortlyaftermydadandLisaleave,Ianarrives.Hesayshedoesn’twanttoholdClayton,butRachelmakeshim.He’suncomfortable,becausehe’sneverheldababybefore,butheholdshim.
“ThankGodhelookslikeRachel,”Iansays.
Iagreewithhim.
IanasksRachelifIevertoldherwhatIsaidtohimafterImether.
Idon’tknowwhathe’stalkingabout.
Ianlaughs.
“Afterhewalkedyoutoclassthatfirstday,hetookapictureofyoufromhisseat,”Iantellsher.“Hetextedittomeandsaid,‘She’sgonnahaveallmybabies.’”
Rachellooksatme.
Ishrug.
I’membarrassed.
RachellovesthatIsaidthattoIan.IlovethatIantoldherthat.
Thedoctorcomesinandtellsuswecangohomenow.Ianhelpsmetakeeverythingtothecarandpullituptotheexit.BeforeIgobacktoRachel’sroom,Iantouchesmyshoulder.Iturnaroundandfacehim.
Igetthefeelinghewantstotellmecongratulations,butinstead,hejusthugsme.
It’sawkward,butit’snot.Ilikethathe’sproudofme.
Itmakesmefeelgood.LikeI’mdoingthisright.
Ianleaves.
Sodowe.
MeandRachelandClayton.
Myfamily.
IwantRachelinthefrontseatwithme,butIlovethatshe’sridinginthebackwithhim.Ilovehowmuchsheloveshim.IlovethatI’mattractedtoherevenmorenowthatshe’samom.Iwanttokissher.IwanttotellherIloveheragain,butIthinkItellherwaytoomuch.Idon’teverwanthertogettiredofhearingit.
“Thankyouforthisbaby,”shesaysfromthebackseat.“He’sbeautiful.”
Ilaugh.“You’reresponsibleforthebeautifulpart,Rachel.Theonlythinghegotfrommewashisballs.”
Shelaughs.Shelaughshard.“Oh,myGod,Iknow,”shesays.“They’resobig.”
Webothlaughatourson’sbigballs.
Shesighs.
“Rest,”Itellher.“Youhaven’tsleptintwodays.”
Iseehersmileintherearviewmirror.“ButIcan’tstopstaringathim,”shewhispers.
Ican’tstopstaringatyou,Rachel.
ButIdostop,becausetheoncomingtrafficisbrighterthanitshouldbe.
Myhandsgripthesteeringwheel.
Toobright.
I’vealwaysheardyourlifeflashesbeforeyoureyesinthemomentsbeforeyoudie.
Inasense,that’strue.
However,itdoesn’tcomeatyouinsequenceoreveninrandomorder.
It’sjustonepicturethat
STICKS
inyourheadandbecomeseverythingyoufeelandeverythingyousee.
It’snotyouractuallifethatflashesbeforeyoureyes.
Whatflashesbeforeyoureyesarethepeoplewhoareyourlife.
RachelandClayton.
AllIseeisthetwoofthem—mywholelife—flashbeforemyeyes.
Thesoundbecomeseverything.
Everything.
Insideme,outsideme,throughme,underme,overme.
RACHEL,RACHEL,RACHEL.
Ican’tfindher.
CLAYTON,CLAYTON,CLAYTON.
I’mwet.It’scold.Myheadhurts.Myarmshurt.
Ican’tseeher,Ican’tseeher,Ican’tseeher,Ican’tseehim.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
DEAFENINGSILENCE.
“Miles!”
Iopenmyeyes.
It’swet,it’swet,there’swater,it’swet.
Waterisinthecar.
Iunbucklemyseatbeltandturnaround.Herhandsareonhiscarseat.“Miles,helpme!It’sstuck!”
Itry.
Itryagain.
Butsheneedstogetout,too.
Sheneedstogetout,too.
Ikickmywindowandbreaktheglass.Isawitinamovieonce.
Makesurethere’sawayoutbeforethere’stoomuchpressureonthewindows.
“Rachel,getout!I’vegothim!”
Shetellsmeno.Shewon’tstoptryingtogethimout.
I’llgethim,Rachel.
Shecan’tgetout.Herseatbeltisstuck.It’stootight.
Iletgoofthecarseatandreachforherseatbelt.MyhandsareunderwaterwhenIfindit.
Sheslapsatmyarmsandattemptstopushmeawayfromher.
“Gethimfirst!”shescreams.“Gethimoutfirst!”
Ican’t.
They’rebothstuck.
You’restuck,Rachel.
Oh,God.
I’mscared.
Rachelisscared.
Thewateriseverywhere.Ican’tseehimanymore.
Ican’tseeher.
Ican’thearhim.
Ireachforherseatbeltagain.
Igetitoffher.
Igrabherhands.Herwindowisn’tbroken.
Mineis.
Ipullherforward.She’sfightingme.
She’sfightingme.
Shestopsfightingme.
Fightme,Rachel.
Fightme.
Move.
Someoneisreachinginthroughmywindow.
“Givemeherhand!”Ihearhimyell.
Thewateriscominginthroughmywindownow.
Theentirebackseatiswater.
Everythingiswater.
IgivehimRachel’shand.Hehelpsmegetherout.
Everythingiswater.
Itrytofindhim.
Ican’tbreathe.
Itrytofindhim.
Ican’tbreathe.
Itrytosavehim.
Iwanttobehishero.
Ican’tbreathe.
SoIjuststop.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
DEAFENINGSCREAM.
Icovermyearswithmyhands.
Icovermyheartwitharmor.
IcoughuntilIcanbreatheagain.
Iopenmyeyes.We’reinaboat.
Ilookaround.We’reonalake.
Ibringmyhanduptomyjaw.
Myhandisred.
CoveredinbloodasredasRachel’shair.
Rachel
IfindRachel.
Clayton.
Idon’tfindClayton.
Ipushuponmyhandsandmovetotheedgeoftheboat.
Ineedtofindhim.
Someonestopsme.Someonepullsmeback
Someonewon’tletme.
Someoneistellingmeit’stoolate.
Someonetellsmehe’ssorry.
Someonetellsmewecan’tgettohim.
Someonetellsmewewentoverthebridgeaftertheimpact.
Someonetellsmehe’ssosorry.
ImovetoRachel,instead.
Itrytoholdher,butshewon’tletme.She’sscreaming.
Sobbing.CRYING.WAILING.
Shehitsme.
Shekicksme.
ShesaysIshouldhavesavedhiminstead.
ButItriedtosaveyouboth,Rachel.
“Youshouldhavesavedhim,Miles!”shecries.
Youshouldhavesavedhim.
Youshouldhavesavedhim.
IshouldhavesavedHIM.
She’sscreaming.
Sobbing.CRYING.WAILING.
Iholdheranyway.
Iletherhitme.
Iletherhateme.
Rachelhatesme.
Iholdheranyway.
Rachelcries,butshe’squiet.She’scryingsohardherthroatcan’tevenmakeasound.Herbodyiscrying,buthervoiceisnot.
Ruined.
Ruined.
RUINED.
Icrywithher.IcryandIcryandIcryandIcryandwecryandwecryandwecry.
Ruined.
Thewateriseverythingnow.
IlookatRachel.Ionlyseewater.
Iclosemyeyes.Ionlyseewater.
Ilookupatthesky.Ionlyseewater.
Ithurtssomuch.Ineverknewaheartcouldholdtheweightoftheentireworld.
Idon’tmakeRachel’slifebetteranymore.
Iruinedyou,Rachel.
Myfamily.
MeandyouandClayton.
RUINED.
Youcan’tlovemeafterthis,Rachel.chapterthirty-three
TATE
Myhandsareonhim,rubbinghisback,touchinghishair.He’scrying,andtheonlythingIcandoistellhimnevermind.IwanttotellhimtoforgeteverythingIsaidtonight.IwanttodowhateverIcantotakethispainawayfromhim,becausewhateverhappenedshouldn’tmatter.Whateverhappened,noonedeservestofeelthewayhe’sfeelingrightnow.
Imovehisarmsfromhisface,thenslideontohislap.Iholdhisfaceinmyhandsandtiltittomine.Hekeepshiseyesclosed.“Idon’thavetoknow,Miles.”
Hisarmswraparoundmyback,andheburieshisfaceagainstmychest.Hislaboredbreathscomefasterashetriestopushbackhisemotions.Myarmsarewrappedaroundhishead,andIkisshishair,thentrailkissesdownthesideofhisheaduntilhepullsbackandlooksupatme.
Noamountofarmorintheworldandnowallnomatterhowthickcouldhidethedevastationinhiseyesrightnow.It’ssoprominent,andthere’ssomuchofit,IhavetoholdmybreathsoIdon’tcrywithhim.
Whathappenedtoyou,Miles?
“Idon’thavetoknow,”Iwhisperagain,shakingmyhead.
Hishandsmovetothebackofmyhead,andhepresseshismouthtomine,hardandpainfully.Hemovesforwarduntilmybackisagainstthefloor.Hishandspullatmyshirt,andhe’skissingmedesperately,furiously,fillingmymouthwiththetasteofhistears.
Ilethimusemetogetridofhispain
I’lldowhateverhewantsmetodoaslongashestopshurtinglikehe’shurting.
HeslipshishandbeneathmyskirtandbeginstopulldownmyunderwearatthesametimeasIhookmythumbsontothehipsofhisjeansandpushthemdown.Mypantiesmakeittomyankles,andIkickthemoff,justashetakesbothmyhandsandpushesthemabovemyhead,pressingthemtothefloor.
Hedropshisforeheadtominebutdoesn’tkissme.Hecloseshiseyes,butIkeepmineopen.Hewastesnotimepushinghimselfbetweenmylegs,spreadingthemwider.Hemoveshisforeheadtothesideofmyhead,thenslidesintomeslowly.Whenhe’sallthewayinsideme,heexhales,releasingsomeofhispain.Takinghismindawayfromwhateverhorrorhejustwentthrough.
Hepullsout,thenthrustsinsidemeagain,thistimewithallhisstrength.
Ithurts.
Givemeyourpain,Miles.
“MyGod,Rachel,”hewhispers.
MyGod,Rachel…
Rachel,Rachel,Rachel.
Thatwordgetsputonrepeatinsidemyhead.
My.
God.
Rachel.
Iturnmyheadawayfromhis.It’stheworstpainI’veeverfelt.Theabsoluteworst.
Hisbodyimmediatelystillsinsideminewhenherealizeswhathesaid.Theonlythingmovingbetweenusrightnowarethetearsfallingfrommyeyes.
“Tate,”hewhispers,shatteringthesilencebetweenus.“Tate,I’msosorry.”
Ishakemyhead,butthetearswon’tstop.Somewheredeepinsideme,Ifeelsomethingharden.Somethingthatwasonceliquidcompletelyfreezes,andit’sinthismomentthatIknowthisisit.
Thatname.
Itsaiditall.I’llneverhavehispast,becauseshehasit.
I’llneverhavehisfuture,becauseherefusestogiveittoanyonewhoisn’ther.
AndI’llneverknowwhy,becausehe’llnevertellme.
Hebeginstopulloutofme,butItightenmylegsaroundhis.Hesighsheavilyagainstmycheek.“IsweartoGod,Tate.Iwasn’tthinkingabout—”
“Stop,”Iwhisper.Idon’twanttohearhimdefendwhatjusthappened.“Justfinish,Miles.”
Heliftshisheadandlooksdownatme.Iseetheapology,clearasday,hidingbehindfreshtears.Idon’tknowifit’smywordsthathavejustcuthimagainorthefactthatwebothknowthisisit,butitlookslikehisheartjustbrokeagain.
Ifthat’sevenpossible.
Atearfallsfromhiseyesandlandsonmycheek.Ifeelitrolldownandcombinewithoneofmyown.
Ijustwantthistobeover.
Iwrapmyhandaroundthebackofhisheadandpullhismouthtomine.He’snotmovinginsidemeanymore,soIarchmyback,pressingmyhipsharderagainsthim.Hemoansinmymouthandmovesagainstmeonce,thenstopsagain.“Tate,”hesaysagainstmylips.
“Justfinish,Miles,”Isaytohimthroughmytears.“Justfinish.”
Heplacesapalmagainstmycheekandhepresseshislipstomyear.We’rebothcryinghardernow,andIcanseethatI’mmorethanthistohim.IknowIam.Ifeelhowmuchhewantstoloveme,butwhateverisstoppinghimismorethanI’mabletoconquer.Iwrapmyarmsaroundhisneck.“Please,”Ibeghim.“Please,Miles.”I’mcrying,beggingforsomething,butIdon’tevenknowwhatitisanymore.
Hethrustsagainstme.Hardthistime.SohardIscootawayfromhim,sohewrapshisarmsundermyshouldersandcupshishandsupward,holdingmeinplaceagainsthimasherepeatedlypushesintome.Hard,long,deepthruststhatforcemoansoutofbothofuswitheverymovement.
“Harder,”Ibeg.
Hepushesharder.
“Faster.”
Hemovesfaster.
We’rebothgaspingforbreathbetweenourtears.It’sintense.It’sheartbreaking.It’sdevastating.
It’sugly.
It’sover.
Assoonashisbodyismotionlessontopofmine,Ipushagainsthisshoulders.Herollsoffofme.Isitupandwipemyeyeswithmyhands,thenstandupandpullonmyunderwear.Hisfingerswraparoundmyankle.ThesamefingersthatwrappedaroundthesameanklethefirstnightImethim.
“Tate,”hesays,hisvoiceriddledwitheverything.Everysingleemotionwrapsitselfaroundeachletterofmynameasitcomesoutofhismouth.
Ipullawayfromhisgrasp.
Iwalktothedoor,stillfeelinghiminsideme.Stilltastinghismouthonmine.Stillfeelingthestainsofhistearsagainstmycheek.
Iopenthedoorandwalkout.
Iclosethedoorbehindme,andit’sthehardestthingI’veeverdone.
Ican’tevenwalkthethreefeetbacktomyapartment.
Icollapseinthehallway.
I’mliquid.
Nothingbuttears.chapterthirty-four
MILES
Sixyearsearlier
Wewenthome.Nottoourhome.
RachelwantedLisa.Rachelneedshermother.
Ikindofneedmyfather.
EverynightIholdher.EverynightItellherI’msorry.Everynightwejustcry.
Idon’tunderstandhowitcanbesoperfect.Howlifeandloveandpeoplecanbesoperfectandbeautiful.
Thenit’snot.
It’ssougly.
Lifeandloveandpeoplebecomeugly.
Itallbecomeswater.
Tonightisdifferent.Thisnightisthefirstnightinthreeweekswhenshe’snotcrying.Iholdheranyway.Iwanttobehappythatshe’snotcrying,butitscaresme.Hertearsmeanshefeelssomething.Evenifthatsomethingisdevastation,it’sstillsomething.Therearen’tanytearstonight.
Iholdheranyway.ItellherI’msorryagain.
Shenevertellsmeit’sokay.
Shenevertellsmeit’snotmyfault.
Shenevertellsmesheforgivesme.
Shedoeskissmetonight,though.Shekissesmeandtakesoffhershirt.Shetellsmetomakelovetoher.Itellherweshouldn’t.Itellherwe’resupposedtowaittwomoreweeks.ShekissesmesoI’llstoptalking.
Ikissherback.
Rachellovesmeagain.
Ithink.
She’skissingmelikeshelovesme.
I’mgentlewithher.
Igoslow.
She’stouchingmyskinlikeshelovesme.
Idon’twanttohurther.
Shecries.
Pleasedon’tcry,Rachel.
Istop.
Shetellsmenottostop.
Shetellsmetofinish.
Finish.
Idon’tlikethatword.
Likethisisajob.
Ikissheragain.
Ifinish.
???
Miles,
Rachelwrotemealetter.
I’msorry.
No.
Ican’tdothis.Ithurtstoomuch.
No,no,no.
MymotheristakingmebacktoPhoenix.We’rebothstayingthere.It’salltoocomplicated,evenbetweenthetwoofthemnow.Yourfatheralreadyknows.
Claytonbringsfamiliestogether.
Milesripsthemapart.
Itriedtostay.Itriedtoloveyou.EverytimeIlookatyou,Iseehim.Everythingishim.IfIstay,everythingwillalwaysbehim.Youknowthat.Iknowyouunderstandthat.Ishouldn’tblameyou.
Butyoudo.
I’msosorry.
Youstoppedlovingmewithaletter,Rachel?
Love,
Ifeelit.Alltheuglypartsofit.It’sinmypores.Myveins.Mymemories.Myfuture.
Rachel.
Thedifferencebetweentheuglysideofloveandthebeautifulsideofloveisthatthebeautifulsideismuchlighter.Itmakesyoufeellikeyou’refloating.Itliftsyouup.Carriesyou.
Thebeautifulpartsofloveholdyouabovetherestoftheworld.Theyholdyousohighaboveallthebadstuff,andyoujustlookdownoneverythingelseandthink,Wow.I’msogladI’muphere
SometimesthebeautifulpartsoflovemovebacktoPhoenix.
TheuglypartsoflovearetooheavytomovebacktoPhoenix.Theuglypartsoflovecan’tliftyouup.
Theybringyou
D
O
W
N.
Theyholdyouunder.
Drownyou.
Youlookupandthink,IwishIwasupthere
Butyou’renot.
Uglylovebecomesyou.
Consumesyou.
Makesyouhateitall.
Makesyourealizethatallthebeautifulpartsaren’tevenworthit.Withoutthebeautiful,you’llneverriskfeelingthis.
You’llneverriskfeelingtheugly.
Soyougiveitup.Yougiveitallup.Youneverwantloveagain,nomatterwhatkinditis,becausenotypeoflovewilleverbeworthlivingthroughtheuglyloveagain.
I’llneverletmyselfloveanyoneagain,Rachel.
Ever.chapterthirty-five
TATE
“Lastload,”Corbinsays,pickinguptheremainingtwoboxes.
IhandCorbinthekeytomynewplace.“I’llmakeonemorewalk-throughandmeetyouoverthere.”IopenthedoorforCorbin,andheexitstheapartment.I’mleftstaringatthedooracrossthehall.
Ihaven’tseenorspokentohimsincelastweek.I’vebeenselfishlyhopinghewouldshowupandapologize,butthenagain,whatwouldheevenbeapologizingfor?Heneverliedtome.Heneververbalizedpromisesthathebroke.
Theonlytimeshewasn’tbrutallyhonestwithmewerethetimeshedidn’tspeak.ThetimeshelookedatmeandIassumedthefeelingsIsawinhiseyesweremorethanwhathewasabletoverbalize.
It’sapparentnowthatImorethanlikelyinventedthosefeelingsfromhiminordertomatchthemtomyown.Theoccasionalemotionbehindhiseyeswhenweweretogetherwasobviouslyafigmentofmyownimagination.Afigmentofmyhope.
IscantheapartmentonelasttimetomakesureIpackedeverything.WhenIstepoutsideandlockCorbin’sdoorbehindme,mymovementsaretakenoverbysomethingI’munfamiliarwith.
Ican’ttellifit’sbravenessordesperation,butmyhandisballedintoafist,andthatfistisknockingonhisdoor.
ItellmyselfthatI’mfreetoescapetotheelevatoriftensecondspassandthedoordoesn’topen.
Unfortunately,itopensafterseven.
Mythoughtsbegintoriotwithrationalizationasthedooropenswider.BeforerationalizationwinsandIdartaway,Ianappearsinthedoorway.Hiseyeschangefromcomplacenttosympatheticwhenheseesmestandinghere.
“Tate,”hesays,cappingmynameoffwithasmile.InoticetheshiftofhisgazetowardMiles’sbedroombeforehiseyesfallbackonmine.“Letmegethim,”hesays.
Ifeeltheascentinthenodofmyhead,butmyheartismakingadescent,scalingdownmychest,throughmystomach,andstraighttothefloor.
“Tate’satthedoor,”IhearIansay.Iinspecteveryword,everysyllable,searchingforacluewhereverIcanfindone.Iwanttoknowifherolledhiseyeswhenhesaidthatorifhesaidithopefully.IfanyoneknowshowMileswouldfeelaboutmestandinginhisdoorway,itwouldbeIan.Unfortunately,Ian’svoicegivesnoindicationofwhatMilesmayfeelaboutmypresence.
Ihearfootsteps.Idissectthesoundofthefootstepsastheycloseinonthelivingroom.Aretheyhurriedfootsteps?Aretheyhesitant?Aretheyangry?
Whenhereachesthedoor,myeyesfalltohisfeetfirst.
Igetnothingfromthem.NocluesthatwillhelpmefindtheconfidenceIsodesperatelyneedinthismoment.
Icanalreadytellmywordswillcomeoutraspyandweak,butIforcethemupanyway.“I’mleaving,”Isay,stillstaringdownathisfeet.“Ijustwantedtosaygood-bye.”
There’snoimmediatereactionfromhim,physicallyorverbally.Myeyesfinallymakethebravejourneyuptohis.WhenIseethestoiclookonhisface,Iwanttostepback,butI’mafraidI’lltripovermyheart.
Idon’twanthimtowatchmefall.
Myregretovermakingthechoicetoknockconsumesmewiththebrevityinhisresponse.
“Good-bye,Tate.”chapterthirty-six
MILES
Presentday
Hereyesfinallyfindthecouragetomeetmine,butItrynottoseeher.WhenIreallylookather,it’stoomuch.EverytimeI’mwithher,hereyesandhermouthandhervoiceandhersmilefindeveryvulnerablespotonmetobreach.Toseize.Toconquer.EverytimeI’maroundher,Ihavetofightit,soItrynottoseeherwithanythingotherthanmyeyesthistime.
Shesaysshe’sheretosaygood-bye,butthat’snotwhyshe’shere,andsheknowsit.She’sherebecauseshefellinlovewithme,eventhoughItoldhernotto.She’sherebecauseshestillhashopethatIcanloveherback.
Iwantto,Tate.Iwanttoloveyousomuchitfuckinghurts.
Idon’tevenrecognizemyownvoicewhenItellhergood-bye.Thelackofemotionbehindmywordscouldbemisconstruedashateful.AfarcryfromtheapathyI’mattemptingtoconveyandanevenfarthercryfromtheurgeIhavetobeghernottogo.
Sheimmediatelylooksdownatherfeet.Icantellmyresponsejustkilledher,butI’vegivenherenoughfalsehope.EverytimeIeverallowedherin,ithurtsherthatmuchmorewhenIhavetopushheraway.
Butit’shardtofeelbadforher,becauseasmuchasshe’shurting,shedoesn’tknowpain.Shedoesn’tknowitlikeIknowit.Ikeeppainalive.Ikeepitinbusiness.IkeepitthrivingwithasmuchasIexperienceit.
Sheinhalesandthenlooksbackupatmewithslightlyredder,glossiereyes.“Youdeservesomuchmorethanwhatyou’reallowingyourselftohave.”Shestandsonthetipsofhertoesandplacesherhandsonmyshoulders,thenpressesherlipstomycheek.“Good-bye,Miles.”
Sheturnsandwalkstowardtheelevator,justasCorbinstepsouttomeether.Iseeherliftoneofherhandstowipeawayhertears.
Iwatchherwalkaway.
Ishutmydoor,expectingtofeeleventheslightestrippleofreliefoverthefactthatIwasabletoletherwalkaway.Instead,I’mmetwiththeonlyfamiliarsensationmyheartiscapableoffeeling:pain
“You’reagoddamnidiot,”Iansaysfrombehindme.Iturnaround,andhe’ssittingonthearmofthecouch,staringatme.“Whyareyounotgoingafterherrightnow?”
Because,Ian,Ihatethisfeeling.Ihateeveryfeelingsheevokesinme,becauseitfillsmewithallthethingsI’vespentthelastsixyearsavoiding
“WhywouldIdothat?”IaskasIheadtowardmyroom.Ipausewiththeknockatmyfrontdoor.Iexpelafrustratedbreathbeforeturningbacktothedoor,notwantingtohavetoturnherawayforasecondtime.Iwill,though.EvenifIhavetolayitoutintermsthatwillhurtherevenmore,sheneedstoacceptthefactthatit’sover.Iletitgotoofar.Hell,Inevershouldhaveallowedittoevenbegin,withusknowingitwouldmorethanlikelyendthisway.
IopenthedoorbutfindCorbininmylineofsightratherthanTate.Iwanttofeelrelievedbythefactthatit’shimstandinghereratherthanher,butthefuminglookonhisfacemakesitimpossibletofeelrelieved.
BeforeIcanreact,hisfistconnectswithmymouth,andIstumblebackwardtowardthecouch.Ianbreaksmyfall,andIsteadymyselfbeforeturningtofacethedooragain.
“Whatthehell,Corbin?”Ianyells.He’sholdingmeback,assumingIwantretaliation.
Idon’t.Ideservedthat.
Corbintradeslooksbetweenthetwoofus,finallysettlingonme.Hepullshisfistuptohischestandrubsitwithhisotherhand.“WeallknowIshouldhavedonethatalongtimeago.”Hegripsthedoorknobandpullsthedoorshut,disappearingbackoutintothehallway.
IshrugoutofIan’sgraspandbringmyhanduptomylip.Ipullmyfingersback,andthey’retingedwithblood.
“Howaboutnow?”Iansays,hopeful.“Yougonnagoafterhernow?”
Iglareathimbeforeturningtostalkofftomybedroom.
Ianlaughsloudly.It’sthekindoflaughthatsays,You’reagoddamnidiot.Onlyhealreadysaidthat,sohe’skindofjustrepeatinghimself.
Hefollowsmetomybedroom.
I’mreallynotinthemoodforthisconversation.GoodthingIknowhowtolookatpeoplewithoutactuallyseeingthem.
Itakeaseatonmybed,andhewalksintomyroomandleansagainstthedoor.“I’mtiredofthis,Miles.SixfuckingyearsI’vewatchedthiszombiewalkaroundinyourplace.”
“I’mnotazombie,”Isayflatly.“Zombiescan’tfly.”
Ianrollshiseyes,obviouslynotinthemoodforjokes.Goodthing,becauseI’mnotreallyinthemoodtomakethem
Hecontinuestoglareatme,soIpickupmyphoneandliebackonthebedinordertopretendheisn’there.
“She’sthefirstthingtobreathelifebackintoyousincethenightyoudrownedinthatfuckinglake.”
I’llhurthim.Ifhedoesn’tleaverightthissecond,I’llfuckinghurthim
“Getout.”
“No.”
Ilookathim.Iseehim.“Getthehellout,Ian.”
Hewalkstomydesk,pullsoutthechair,andsitsinit.“Fuckyou,Miles,”hesays.“I’mnotfinished.”
“Getout!”
“No!”
Istopfightinghim.Igetupandwalkoutmyself.
Hefollowsme.“Letmeaskyouonequestion,”hesays,trailingmeintothelivingroom.
“Andthenyou’llgetout?”
Henods.“AndthenI’llgetout.”
“Fine.”
Heregardsmesilentlyforafewmoments.
IpatientlywaitforhisquestionsohecanleavebeforeIhurthim.
“Whatifsomeonetoldyoutheycoulderasethatentirenightfromyourmemory,butindoingso,theyalsohavetoeraseeverysinglegoodthing.AllthemomentswithRachel.Everyword,everykiss,everyIloveyou.Everymomentyouhadwithyourson,nomatterhowbrief.ThefirstmomentyousawRachelholdinghim.Thefirstmomentyouheldhim.Thefirsttimeyouheardhimcryorwatchedhimsleep.Allofit.Gone.Forever.Ifsomeonetoldyoutheycouldgetridoftheuglystuff,butyou’dlosealltheotherstuff,too…wouldyoudoit?”
Hethinkshe’saskingmesomethingI’veneveraskedmyselfbefore.DoeshethinkIdon’tsitandwonderaboutthisstuffeveryfuckingdayofmylife?
“Youdidn’tsayIhadtoansweryourquestion.Youjustaskedifyoucouldaskit.Youcanleavenow.”
I’mtheworstkindofperson.
“Youcan’tanswerit,”hesays.“Youcan’tsayyes.”
“Ialsocan’tsayno,”Itellhim.“Congratulations,Ian.Youstumpedme.Good-bye.”
Ibegintowalkbacktomyroom,buthesaysmynameagain.Istopandputmyhandsonmyhipsanddropmyhead.Whywon’thestopwithit,already?It’sbeensixdamnyears.HeshouldknowthatnightmademewhoIamnow.HeshouldknowI’mnotchanging.
“IfIwouldhaveaskedyouthatafewmonthsago,youwouldhavesaidyesbeforethequestionevenleftmymouth,”hesays.“Youranswerhasalwaysbeenyes.Youwouldhavegivenupanythingtonothavetorelivethatnight.”
Iturnaround,andhe’sheadingtowardthedoor.Heopensit,thenpausesandfacesmeagain.“IfbeingwithTateforafewshortmonthscanmakethatpainbearableenoughforyoutoanswerwithmaybe,imaginewhatalifetimewithhercoulddoforyou.”
Heclosesthedoor.
Iclosemyeyes.
Somethinghappens.Somethinginsideme.It’sasifhiswordshavecreatedanavalancheoutoftheglaciersurroundingmyheart.IfeelchunksofhardenedicebreakoffandfallnexttoalltheotherpiecesthathavedetachedsincethemomentImetTate.
???
IstepofftheelevatorandwalkovertotheemptychairnexttoCap.Hedoesn’tevenacknowledgemypresencewitheyecontact.He’sstaringacrossthelobbytowardtheexit.
“Youjustlethergo,”hesays,notevenattemptingtohidethedisappointmentinhisvoice.
Idon’trespond.
Hepushesonthearmsofhischairwithhishands,repositioninghimself.“Somepeople…theygrowwiserastheygrowolder.Unfortunately,mostpeoplejustgrowolder.”Heturnstofaceme.“You’reoneoftheonesjustbeengrowingolder,becauseyouareasstupidasyouwerethedayyouwereborn.”
Capknowsmewellenoughtoknowthisiswhathadtohappen.He’sknownmeallmylife;havingworkedmaintenanceonmyfather’sapartmentbuildingssincebeforeIwasborn.Beforethat,heworkedformygrandfatherdoingthesamething.ThisprettymuchguaranteesheknowsmoreaboutmeandmyfamilythanevenIdo.“Ithadtohappen,Cap,”Isay,excusingthefactthatIlettheonlygirlwhohasbeenabletoreachmeinmorethansixyearsjustwalkaway.
“Hadtohappen,huh?”hegrumbles.
AslongasI’veknownhimandasmanynightsasI’vespentdownheretalkingtohim,he’sneveroncegivenmeanopinionaboutthedecisionsI’vemadeformyself.HeknowsthelifeIchoseafterRachel.Hespoutsofftidbitsofwisdomhereandtherebutneverhisopinion.He’slistenedtomeventaboutthesituationwithTateformonths,andhealwayssitsquietly,patientlyhearingmeout,nevergivingmeadvice.That’swhatIlikeabouthim.
Ifeelthat’sallabouttochange.
“Beforeyougivemealecture,Cap,”Isay,interruptinghimbeforehehasthechancetocontinue.“Youknowshe’sbetteroff.”Iturnandfacehim.“Youknowsheis.”
Capchuckles,noddinghishead.“That’sfordamnsure.”
Ilookathimdisbelievingly.Didhejustagreewithme?
“AreyousayingImadetherightchoice?”
He’squietforasecondbeforeblowingoutaquickbreath.Hisexpressioncontortsasifhisthoughtsaren’tsomethinghenecessarilywantstoshare.Herelaxesintohischairandfoldshisarmslooselyoverhischest.“Itoldmyselftonevergetinvolvedinyourproblems,boy,becauseinorderforamantogiveadvice,he’dbetterknowwhatthehellhe’stalkin’about.AndLordknowsinallmyeightyyears,Iain’tneverbeenthroughnothinglikewhatyouwentthrough.Idon’tknowthefirstthingaboutwhatthatwaslikeorwhatthatdidtoyou.Justthinking’boutthatnightmakesmyguthurt,soIknowyoufeelitinyourgut,too.Andyourheart.Andyourbones.Andyoursoul.”
Iclosemyeyes,wishingIcouldclosemyearsinstead.Idon’twanttohearthis.
“Noneofthepeopleinyourlifeknowswhatitfeelsliketobeyou.Notme.Notyourfather.Notthosefriendsofyours.NotevenTate.There’sonlyonepersonwhofeelswhatyoufeel.Onlyonepersonwhohurtslikeyouhurt.Onlyoneotherparenttothatbabyboywhomisseshimthesamewayyoudo.”
Myeyesareclosedtightlynow,andI’mdoingallIcantorespecthisendoftheconversation,butit’stakingallIhavenottogetupandwalkaway.HehasnorightbringingRachelintothisconversation.
“Miles,”hesaysquietly.There’sdeterminationinhisvoice,likeheneedsmetotakehimseriously.Ialwaysdo.“Youbelieveyoutookawaythatgirl’schanceathappiness,anduntilyouconfrontthatpast,youwon’tevermoveforward.You’regonnaberelivingthatdayeverysingledayuntilthedayyoudie,unlessyougoseeforyourowneyesthatshe’sokay.Thenmaybeyou’llseethatit’sokayforyoutobehappy,too.”
Ileanforwardandrunmyhandsovermyface,thenrestmyelbowsonmykneesandlookdown.Iwatchasasingletearfallsfrommyeyeanddropstothefloorbeneathmyfeet.“Andwhathappensifshe’snotokay?”Iwhisper.
Capleansforwardandclaspshishandsbetweenhisknees.Iturnandlookathim,seeingtearsinhiseyesforthefirsttimeinthetwenty-fouryearsI’veknownhim.“ThenIguessnothingchanges.Youcankeeponfeelinglikeyoudon’tdeservealifeforruininghers.Youcankeeponavoidingeverythingthatmightmakeyoufeelagain.”Heleansintowardmeandlowershisvoice.“Iknowthethoughtofconfrontingyourpastterrifiesyou.Itterrifieseveryman.Butsometimeswedon’tdoitforourselves.Wedoitforthepeoplewelovemorethanourselves.”chapterthirty-seven
RACHEL
“Brad!”Iyell.“Someone’satthedoor!”Igrabadishtowelanddrymyhands.
“Gotit,”hesays,passingthroughthekitchen.Itakeaquickinventoryofthekitchentomakesurethereisn’tanythingmymothercaninsult.Countersareclean.Floorsareclean.
Bringiton,Mom.
“Waithere,”Bradsaystowhoeverisatthedoor.
Waithere?
Bradwouldn’tsaythattomymother.
“Rachel,”Bradsaysfromthekitchenentryway.Iturnaroundtofacehim,andIimmediatelytense.ThelookonhisfaceisoneIrarelyeversee.It’sreservedforpreparation.Whenhe’sabouttotellmesomethingIdon’twanttohearorsomethinghe’safraidwillhurtme.Myimmediatethoughtsfalltomymother,andI’mgrippedwithworry.
“Brad,”Iwhisper.“Whatisit?”I’mholdingthecounternexttome.Thefamiliarfearwashesovermethatusedtoliveandbreatheinsideme,butnowit’ssomethingthatonlygripsmeonoccasion.
Likerightnow,whenmyhusbandistooafraidtotellmesomethinghe’snotsureIwanttohear.“Someone’sheretoseeyou,”hesays.
Idon’tknowofanyonewhocouldmakeBradasconcernedasheisrightnow.“Who?”
Heslowlywalkstowardmeandcupsmyfaceinhishandswhenhereachesme.Helooksintomyeyesasifhe’stryingtobracemeforafall.“It’sMiles.”
Idon’tmove.
Idon’tfall,butBradholdsmeupanyway.Hewrapshisarmsaroundmeandpullsmeagainsthischest.
“Whyishehere?”Myvoicetrembles.
Bradshakeshishead.“Idon’tknow.”Hepullsawayandlooksdownonme.“I’llaskhimtoleaveifyouneedmeto.”
Iimmediatelyshakemyhead.Iwouldn’tdothattohim.NotifhecameallthewaytoPhoenix.
Notafteralmostsevenyears.
“Doyouneedafewminutes?Icantakehimtothelivingroom.”
Idon’tdeservethisman.Idon’tknowwhatI’ddowithouthim.HeknowsmyhistorywithMiles.Heknowseverythingwewentthrough.Ittookmeawhiletobeabletotellhimthewholestory.Heknowsallofthis,andhe’sstillstandinghere,offeringtoinvitetheonlyothermanI’veeverlovedintoourhome.
“I’mokay,”Itellhim,eventhoughI’mnot.Idon’tknowifIwanttoseeMiles.Ihavenoideawhyhe’shere.“Areyouokay?”
Henods.“Helooksupset.Ithinkyoushouldtalktohim.”Heleansinandkissesmeontheforehead.“He’sinthefoyer.I’llbeinmyofficeifyouneedme.”
Inod,andthenIkisshim.Ikisshimhard.
Hewalksaway,andI’mleftstandingsilentlyinthekitchen,myheartbeatingerraticallywithinmychest.Itakeadeepbreath,butitdoesnothingtocalmme.Ibrushmyhandsdownmyshirtandwalktowardthefoyer.
Miles’sbackistome,buthehearsmeroundthecorner.Heturnshisheadslightlyoverhisshoulder,almostasifhe’sjustasafraidtoturnaroundandlookatmeasIamtoseehim.
Hedoesitcarefully.Slowly.Suddenly,myeyesarelockedwithhis.
Iknowit’sbeensixyears,butinthatsixyears,he’ssomehowcompletelychanged,withoutchangingatall.He’sstillMiles,buthe’samannow.Thismakesmewonderwhathe’sseeing,lookingatmeforthefirsttimesincethedayIlefthim.
“Hey,”hesays,treadingcarefully.Hisvoiceisdifferent.Itisn’tthevoiceofateenageranymore.
“Hi.”
Ilosehisgazeashiseyestravelaroundthefoyer.Hetakesinmyhome.AhomeIneverexpectedtoseehimin.Webothstandinsilenceforawholeminute.Maybetwo.
“Rachel,I…”Helooksbackatmeagain.“Idon’tknowwhyI’mhere.”
Ido.
Icanseeitinhiseyes.Igottoknowthoseeyessowellwhenweweretogether.Iknewallhisthoughts.Allhisemotions.Hewasn’tabletohidehowhefelt,becausehefeltsomuch.He’salwaysfeltsomuch.
He’sherebecauseheneedssomething.Idon’tknowwhat.Answers,maybe?Closure?I’mgladhewaiteduntilnowtogetit,becauseIthinkI’mfinallyreadytogiveit.
“It’sgoodtoseeyou,”Itellhim.
Ourvoicesareweakandtimid.It’sweird,seeingsomeoneforthefirsttimeunderdifferentcircumstancesfromwhenyouparted.
Ilovedthisman.Ilovedhimwithallmyheartandsoul.IlovedhimlikeIloveBrad.
Ialsohatedhim.
“Comein,”Isay,motioningtowardthelivingroom.“Let’stalk.”
Hetakestwohesitantstepstowardthelivingroom.Iturnaroundandlethimfollowme.
Webothtakeaseatonthesofa.Hedoesn’tgetcomfortable.Instead,hesitsontheedgeofitandleansforward,restinghiselbowsonhisknees.He’slookingaround,takinginmyhomeoncemore.Mylife.
“You’rebrave,”Isay.Helooksatme,waitingformetocontinue.“I’vethoughtaboutthis,Miles.Aboutseeingyouagain.Ijust…”Ilookdown.“Ijustcouldn’t.”
“Whynot?”hesaysalmostimmediately
Imakeeyecontactwithhimagain.“Thesamereasonyouhaven’t.Wedon’tknowwhattosay.”
Hesmiles,butit’snotthesmileIusedtoloveonMiles.Thisoneisguarded,andIwonderifIdidthistohim.IfI’mresponsibleforallthesadpartsofhim.Therearesomanysadpartsofhimnow.
HepicksupaphotoofBradandmefromtheendtable.Hiseyesstudythepictureinhishandsforamoment.“Doyoulovehim?”heasks,continuingtostareatthepicture.“Likeyoulovedme?”He’snotaskinginabitterorjealousway.He’saskinginacuriousway.
“Yes,”Ireply.“Justasmuch.”
Heplacesthepicturebackontheendtablebutcontinuestostareatit.
“How?”hewhispers.“Howdidyoudothat?”
Hiswordsbringtearstomyeyes,becauseIknowexactlywhathe’saskingme.Iaskedmyselfthesamequestionforseveralyears,untilImetBrad.Ididn’tthinkI’deverbeabletolovesomeoneagain.Ididn’tthinkI’dwanttolovesomeoneagain.Whywouldanyonewanttoputthemselvesinapositionthatcouldbringbackthetypeofpainthatmakesapersonenviousofdeath?
“Iwanttoshowyousomething,Miles.”
Istandupandreachoutforhishand.Hewatchesmyhandcautiouslyforamomentbeforefinallyreachingforit.Hisfingersslidethroughmine,andhesqueezesmyhandashestandsup.Ibeginmakingmywaytowardthebedroom,andhefollowscloselybehindme.
Wereachthebedroomdoor,andmyfingerspauseonthedoorknob.Myheartisheavy.Theemotionsandeverythingwewentthrougharesurfacing,butIknowIhavetoallowthemtosurfaceifIwanttohelphim.Ipushthedooropenandwalkinside,pullingMilesbehindme.
Assoonaswe’reinsidetheroom,Ifeelhisfingerstightenaroundmine.“Rachel,”hewhispers.Hisvoiceisapleaformenottodothis.Ifeelhimtrytopullbacktowardthedoor,butIdon’tlethim.Imakehimwalktohercribwithme.
He’sstandingbymyside,butIcanfeelhimstrugglingbecausehedoesn’twanttobeinhererightnow.
He’ssqueezingmyhandsotightlyIcanfeelthehurtinhisheart.Heblowsoutaquickbreathashelooksdownonher.Iseetherollofhisthroatwhenheswallows,thenblowsoutanothersteadyingbreath.
Iwatchashisfreehandcomesupandgripstheedgeofhercrib,holdingontoitastightlyasthehandthat’swrappedaroundmine.“What’shername?”hewhispers.
“Claire.”
Hiswholebodyreactswithmyresponse.Hisshouldersimmediatelybegintoshake,andhetriestoholdinhisbreath,butnothingcanstopit.Nothingcanstophimfromfeelingwhathe’sfeeling,soIjustallowhimtofeelit.Hepullshishandfrommineandcovershismouthtoconcealthequickrushofairreleasedfromhislungs.Heturnsandwalksswiftlyoutoftheroom.Ifollowhimjustasfast,intimetoseehisbackhitthehallwaywallacrossfromhernursery.Heslidestothefloor,andthetearsbegintofallhard.
Hedoesn’ttrytocoverthem.Hepullshishandsthroughhishair,andheleanshisheadbackagainstthewallandlooksupatme.“That’s…”HepointstoClaire’snurseryandtriestospeak,butittakeshimseveraltriestogethissentenceout.“That’shissister,”hefinallysays,blowingoutanunsteadybreath.“Rachel.Yougavehimasister.”
Isinktothefloornexttohimandwrapmyarmaroundhisshoulders,strokinghishairwithmyotherhand.Hepresseshispalmstohisforeheadandsqueezeshiseyesshut,cryingquietlytohimself.
“Miles.”Idon’teventrytodisguisethetearsinmyvoice.“Lookatme.”
Heleanshisheadbackagainstthewall,buthecan’tlookmeintheeyes.“I’msorryIblamedyou.Youlosthim,too.Ididn’tknowhowelsetodealwithitbackthen.”
Mywordscompletelybreakhim,andI’mconsumedwithguiltoverallowingsixyearstopasswithoutlettinghimhearthosewords.Heleansoverandwrapshisarmstightlyaroundme,pullingmeagainsthim.Ilethimholdme.
Heholdsmeforalongtime,untilalltheapologiesandforgivenessareabsorbedandit’sjustusagain.Notears.
IwouldbelyingifIsaidIneverthinkaboutwhatIdidtohim.Ithinkaboutiteveryday.ButIwaseighteenanddevastated,andnothingmatteredtomeafterthatnight.
Nothing.
Ijustwantedtoforget,buteverymorningIwokeupanddidn’tfeelClaytonbymyside,IblamedMiles.Iblamedhimforsavingme,becauseIhadnoreasonlefttolive.IalsoknewinmyheartthatMilesdidwhathecould.Iknewinmyheartthatitwasneverhisfault,butatthatpointinmylife,Iwasn’tcapableofrationalthoughtorevenforgiveness.Atthatpointinmylife,IwasconvincedIwouldn’tbecapableofanythingatallbutfeelingpain.
Thosefeelingsneverwaveredformorethanthreeyears.
UntilthedayImetBrad.
Idon’tknowwhoMileshas,butthefamiliarstruggleinhiseyesprovesthere’ssomeone.IusedtoseethesamestruggleeverytimeIlookedinthemirror,unsureifIhaditinmetoloveagain.
“Doyouloveher?”Iaskhim.Idon’tneedtoknowhername.We’rebeyondthatnow.Iknowheisn’therebecausehe’sstillinlovewithme.He’sherebecausehedoesn’tknowhowtoloveatall
Hesighsandrestshischinontopofmyhead.“I’mscaredIwon’tbeableto.”
Mileskissesthetopofmyhead,andIclosemyeyes.Ilistentohisheartbeatinginsidehischest.Ahearthe’sclaimingisn’tcapableofknowinghowtolove,butinactuality,it’saheartthatlovestoomuch.Helovedsomuch,andthatonenighttookitawayfromus.Changedourworlds.Changedhisheart.
“Iusedtocryallthetime,”Itellhim.“Allthetime.Intheshower.Inthecar.Inmybed.EverytimeIwasalone,Iwouldcry.Forthosefirstcoupleofyears,mylifewasconstantsadness,penetratedbynothing.Notevengoodmoments.”
Ifeelhisarmswraptighteraroundme,silentlytellingmeheknows.HeknowsexactlywhatI’mtalkingabout.
“ThenwhenImetBrad,Ifoundmyselfhavingthesebriefmomentswheremylifewasn’tsadeverysecondoftheday.Iwouldgosomewherewithhiminacar,andI’drealizeitwasmyfirsttimeinacarwithoutcryingatleastonetear.ThenightswewouldspendtogetherweretheonlynightsIwouldn’tcrymyselftosleep.Forthefirsttime,thisimpenetrablesadnessthathadbecomemewasbeingbrokenbythebrief,goodmomentsIspentwithBrad.”
Ipause,needingamoment.Ihaven’thadtothinkaboutthisinawhile,andtheemotionsandfeelingsaretoofresh.Tooreal.IpullawayfromMilesandleanbackagainstthewall,thenrestmyheadonhisshoulder.Hetiltshisheaduntilit’srestingagainstmineandgrabsmyhand,intertwiningourfingers.
“Afterawhile,IbegantonoticethatthegoodmomentswithBradbegantooutweighallthesadness.Thesadnessthatwasmylifebecamethemoments,andmyhappinesswithBradbecamemylife.”
Ifeelhimexhale,andIknowheknowswhatI’mtalkingabout.Iknowthatwhoeversheis,he’shadthosegoodmomentswithher.
“FortheentireninemonthsIwaspregnantwithClaire,IwassoscaredIwouldn’tbeabletocryfromhappinesswhenIsawher.Rightaftershewasborn,theyhandedhertome,justliketheydidwhenClaytonwasborn.Clairelookedjustlikehim,Miles.Justlikehim.Iwasstaringdownather,holdingherinmyarms,andtearswererunningdownmycheeks.ButIwascryinggoodtears,andIrealizedatthatmomentthattheywerethefirsttearsofhappinessIhadcriedsincethedayIheldClaytoninmyarms.”
Iwipemyeyesandletgoofhishand,thenliftmyheadoffhisshoulder.“Youdeservethat,too,”Itellhim.“Youdeservetofeelthatagain.”
Henods.“Iwanttolovehersomuch,Rachel,”hesays,breathingoutthewordslikethey’vebeenpentupforever.“Iwantthatwithhersomuch.I’mjustscaredtherestofitwillnevergoaway.”
“Thepainwillnevergoaway,Miles.Ever.Butifyouletyourselfloveher,you’llonlyfeelitsometimes,insteadofallowingittoconsumeyourentirelife.”
Hewrapshisarmaroundmeandpullsmyforeheadagainsthislips.Hekissesme,longandhard,beforepullingback.Henods,lettingmeknowthatheunderstandswhatI’mtryingtoexplaintohim.
“You’vegotthis,Miles,”Isay,repeatingthesamewordsheusedtocomfortmewith.“You’vegotthis.”
Helaughs,andit’sasifIcanfeelsomeoftheheavinessliftawayfromhim
“YouknowwhatIwasmostafraidoftonight?”heasks.“IwasafraidthatwhenIgothere,you’dbejustlikeme.”Hebrushesmyhairbackandsmiles.“I’msohappyyou’renot.Itmakesmefeelgoodtoseeyouhappy.”
Hepullsmetohimandhugsmetightly.“Thankyou,Rachel,”hewhispers.Hekissesmegentlyonthecheekbeforereleasingmetostandup.“Ishouldprobablygonow.IhaveamillionthingsIwanttotellher.”
Hemakeshiswaydownthehallwaytowardthelivingroom,thenturnstofacemeonelasttime.Inolongerseeallthesadpartsofhim.NowIjustseeacalmnesswhenIlookinhiseyes.
“Rachel?”Hepauses,watchingmequietlyforamoment.Apeacefulsmileslowlyspreadsacrosshisface.“I’msoproudofyou.”
Hedisappearsfromthehallway,andIremainontheflooruntilIhearthefrontdoorclosebehindhim.
I’mproudofyou,too,Miles.chapterthirty-eight
TATE
Iclosethedoortomycarandwalktothestairsleadinguptothesecondfloorofmyapartmentcomplex.I’mrelievednottohavetousetheelevatoranymore,butIcan’thelpbutmissCapalittlebit,evenifhisadvicedidn’tmakeawholelotofsensetomethemajorityofthetime.Itwasnicejusthavinghimtheretoventto.I’vebeenkeepingmyselfbusywithworkandschool,tryingtostayfocused,butit’sbeenhard.
I’vebeeninmynewapartmentfortwoweeksnow,andeventhoughIwishIwerealone,Ineveram.EverytimeIwalkinthroughmyfrontdoor,Milesisstilleverywhere.He’sstillineverything,andIkeepwaitinguntilhe’snot.Ikeepwaitingforthedaywhenitwillhurtless.WhenIwon’tmisshimasmuch.
Iwouldsaymyheartisbroken,butit’snot.Idon’tthinkitis.Actually,Iwouldn’tknow,becausemyhearthasn’tbeeninmychestsinceIleftitlyinginfrontofhisapartmentthedayItoldhimgood-bye.
Itellmyselftotakeitonedayatatime,butit’ssomucheasiersaidthandone.Especiallywhenthosedaysturnintonights,andIhavetolieinmybedalone,listeningtothesilence.
ThesilencewasneversolouduntilItoldMilesgood-bye.
I’malreadydreadingopeningmyapartmentdoor,andI’mnotevenhalfwayupthestairwellyet.Icanalreadytellthisnightisn’tgoingtobeanydifferentfromalltheothernightssinceMiles.Ireachthetopofthestairsandturnlefttowardmyapartment,butmyfeetstopworking.
Mylegsstopworking.
Icanfeelthethumpingofaheartsomewhereinmychestagainforthefirsttimeintwoweeks.
“Miles?”
Hedoesn’tmove.He’ssittingonthefloorinfrontofmyapartment,proppedupagainstthedoor.Iwalkslowlytowardhim,notsurewhattomakeofhisappearance.He’snotinuniform.He’scasuallydressed,andthestubbleonhisfaceproveshehasn’tworkedinafewdays.There’salsowhatlookslikeafreshbruiseunderhisrighteye.I’mscaredtowakehimup,becauseifhe’sasbelligerentashewasthefirsttimeImethim,Idon’twanttodealwithit.Butonceagain,there’snowayIcangetaroundhimandinsidemyapartmentwithoutwakinghimup.
Ilookupandinhaleadeepbreath,wonderingwhattodo.I’mafraidifIwakehimup,I’llcave.I’lllethiminside,andI’llgivehimwhathe’sherefor,whichdefinitelyisn’tthepartofmeIwanttogivehim.
“Tate,”hesays.Ilookdownathim,andhe’sawakenow,pullinghimselfup,watchingmenervously.Itakeastepbackoncehe’sstanding,becauseIforgothowtallheis.Howmuchhebecomeseverythingwhenhe’sstandingrightinfrontofme.
“Howlonghaveyoubeenhere?”Iaskhim.
Heglancesdowntothecellphoneinhishand.“Sixhours.”Helooksbackupatme.“Ineedtouseyourrestroomprettybad.”
Iwanttolaugh,butIcan’trememberhow.
Iturntomydoor,andhestepsoutofthewayformetounlockit.
Mytremblinghandpushesopenthedoortomyapartment,andIwalkinside,thenpointtothehallway.“Ontheright.”
Idon’tlookbackathimwhilehewalksinthatdirection.Iwaituntilthebathroomdoorcloses,andIfallontothecouchandburymyfaceinmyhands.
Ihatethathe’shere.IhatethatIlethiminwithoutquestion.Ihatethatassoonashewalksoutofthebathroom,I’mgoingtohavetomakehimleave.ButIjustcan’tdothistomyselfanymore.
I’mstilltryingtogathermyselfwhenthebathroomdooropensandhewalksbackintothelivingroom.Ilookupathimandcan’tlookaway.
Somethingisdifferent.
He’sdifferent.
Thesmileonhisface…thepeacefulnessinhiseyes…thewayhecarrieshimselflikehe’sfloating.
It’sonlybeentwoweeks,buthelookssodifferent.
Hetakesaseatonthecouchanddoesn’tevenbotherputtingspacebetweenus.Hesitsrightnexttomeandleansintome,soIclosemyeyesandwaitforwhateverwordshe’sabouttosaythatwillhurtmeagain.That’sallheknowshowtodo.
“Tate,”hewhispers.“Imissyou.”
Whoa.
Iwasabsolutelynotexpectingtohearthosethreewords,buttheyjustbecamemynewfavoritewords.
Iandmissandyou.
“Sayitagain,Miles.”
“Imissyou,Tate,”hesaysimmediately.“Somuch.Andit’snotthefirsttime.I’vemissedyoueverysingledayweweren’ttogethersincethemomentImetyou.”
Hewrapshisarmaroundmyshouldersandpullsmetohim.
Igo.
Ifalltohischestandgrabholdofhisshirt,squeezingmyeyesshutwhenIfeelhislipspressagainstthetopofmyhead.
“Lookatme,”hesayssoftly,pullingmeontohislaptofacehim.
Ido.Ilookathim.Iactuallyseehimthistime.There’snoguardup.There’snoinvisiblewallblockingmefromlearningandexploringeverythingabouthim.He’sallowingmetoseehimthistime,andhe’sbeautiful.
Somuchmorebeautifulthanbefore.Whateverchangedinhim,itwashuge.
“Iwanttotellyousomething,”hesays.“Thisissohardformetosay,becauseyou’rethefirstpersonI’veeverwantedtosayitto.”
I’mscaredtomove.Hiswordsareterrifyingme,butInod.
“Ihadason,”hesaysquietly,lookingdownatourhandsnowlacedtogether.ThosefourwordsaredeliveredwithmorepainthananyfourwordsI’veeverheard.
Iinhale.Helooksupatmewithtearsinhiseyes,butIremainquietforhim,eventhoughhiswordsjustknockedthebreathoutofme.
“Hediedsixyearsago.”Hisvoiceissoftanddistant,butit’sstillhisvoice.
Icantellthosewordsaresomeofthehardesthe’severhadtosay.Ithurtshimsomuchtoadmitthis.Iwanttotellhimtostop.IwanttotellhimIdon’tneedtohearitifithurts.Iwanttowrapmyarmsaroundhimandripthesadnessfromhissoulwithmybarehands,butinstead,Ilethimfinish.
Mileslooksbackdownatourinterlockedfingers.“I’mnotreadytotellyouabouthimyet.Ineedtodoitatmyownpace.”
Inodandsqueezehishandsreassuringly.
“Iwilltellyouabouthim,though.Ipromise.IalsowanttotellyouaboutRachel.Iwantyoutoknoweverythingaboutmypast.”
Idon’tevenknowifhe’sfinished,butIleanforwardandpressmylipstohis.Hepullsmeagainsthimsotightlyandpushesbackagainstmymouthsohardit’sasifhe’stellingmehe’ssorrywithoutusingwords.
“Tate,”hewhispersagainstmymouth.Icanfeelhimsmiling.“I’mnotfinished.”
Heliftsmeandadjustsmenexttohimonthecouch.Histhumbcirclesmyshoulderashelooksdownathislap,formingwhateverwordshe’sneedingtosaytome.
“IwasbornandraisedinasmallsuburbjustoutsideofSanFrancisco,”hesays,bringinghiseyesbackuptomeetmine.“I’manonlychild.Idon’treallyhaveanyfavoritefoods,becauseIlikealmosteverything.I’vewantedtobeapilotforaslongasIcanremember.MymotherpassedawayfromcancerwhenIwasseventeen.Myfatherhasbeenmarriedforaboutayeartoawomanwhoworksforhim.She’snice,andthey’rehappytogether.I’vealwayskindofwantedadog,butI’veneverhadone…”
Iwatchhim,mesmerized.Iwatchhiseyesastheyroamaroundmyfacewhilehetalks.WhilehetellsmeallabouthischildhoodandhispastandhowhemetmybrotherandhisrelationshipwithIan.
Hishandfindsmine,andhecoversitasthoughhe’sbecomingmyshield.Myarmor.“ThenightImetyou,”hefinallysays.“Thenightyoufoundmeinthehallway?”Hiseyesdarttowardhislap,unabletoholdcontactwithmine.“Mysonwouldhavebeensixthatday.”
Iknowhesaidhewantsmetolistentohim,butrightnow,Ijustneedtohughim.Ileanforwardandwrapmyarmsaroundhim,andheliesbackonthecouch,pullingmeontopofhim.
“IttookeverythingIhadtotrytoconvincemyselfthatIwasn’tfallingforyou,Tate.EverysingletimeIwasaroundyou,thethingsIwouldfeelterrifiedme.IhadgonesixyearsthinkingIhadcontrolofmylifeandmyheartandthatnothingcouldeverhurtmeagain.Butwhenweweretogether,thereweremomentsIdidn’tcareifIeverhurtagain,becausebeingwithyoualmostfeltworththepotentialpain.EverytimeIbegantofeelthatway,Iwouldjustpushyoufartherawayoutofguiltandfear.IfeltlikeIdidn’tdeserveyou.Ididn’tdeservehappinessatall,becauseI’dtakenitawayfromtheonlytwopeopleIhadeverloved.”
Hisarmstightenaroundmewhenhefeelsmyshouldersshakingfromthetearsmakingtheirwayoutofmyeyes.Hislipsmeetthetopofmyhead,andheinhalesasteadybreathashekissesme,longandhard.
“I’msorryittookmesolong,”hesayswithavoicefullofremorse.“ButI’llneverbeabletothankyouenoughfornotgivinguponme.Yousawsomethinginmethatgaveyouhopeinus,andyoudidn’tgiveuponthat.AndTate?Thatmeansmoretomethananythinganyone’severdone.”
Hishandsmeetmycheeks,andheliftsmeawayfromhischestsohecanseemeface-to-face.“Itmaybeasmallpieceatatime,butmypastisyoursnow.Allofit.Anythingyouwanttoknow,Iwanttotellyou.ButonlyifyoupromisemeIcanalsohaveyourfuture.”
Thetearscascadedownmycheeks,andhewipesthemaway,eventhoughIdon’tneedhimto.Idon’tcarethatI’mcrying,becausetheyaren’tsadtears.Notintheleast.
Wekissforsolongmymouthstartstohurtasmuchasmyheart.Myheartisn’thurtingfrompainthistime,though.Ithurtsbecauseit’sneverfeltthisfull.
Itracemyfingersacrossthescaronhisjaw,knowinghe’lleventuallytellmehowhegotit.Ialsotouchthetenderareabeneathhiseye,relievedthatIcanfinallyaskhimquestionswithoutbeingscaredI’llupsethim.
“Whathappenedtoyoureye?”
Helaughsandletshisheadfallbackagainstthecouch.“IhadtoaskCorbinforyouraddress.Hegaveittome,butittookalotofconvincing.”
Iimmediatelyleanforwardandgentlykisshiseye.“Ican’tbelievehehityou.”
“Notthefirsttime,”headmits.“ButI’mprettysureit’llbethelast.Ithinkhe’sfinallyokaywithusbeingtogetherafterIagreedtoafewofhisrules.”
Thismakesmenervous.“Whatrules?”
“Well,forone,I’mnotallowedtobreakyourheart,”hesays.“Second,I’malsonotallowedtobreakyourdamnheart.Andlast,I’mnotallowedtofuckingbreakyourdamnheart.”
Ican’tcontainmylaughter,becausethatsoundsexactlylikesomethingCorbinwouldsaytohim.Mileslaughswithme,andwetakeeachotherinforseveralquietmoments.Icanseeeverythinginhiseyesnow.Everysingleemotion.
“Miles,”Isaywithasmile,“you’relookingatmelikeyoufellinlovewithme.”
Heshakeshishead.“Ididn’tfallinlovewithyou,Tate.Iflew.”
Hepullsmebacktohimandgivesmetheonlypartofhimselfthathe’sneverbeenabletogivemeuntilnow.
Hisheart.chapterthirty-nine
MILES
Istandinthedoorwayofmybedroomandwatchhersleep.Shedoesn’tknowit,butIdothiseverymorningshe’sherewithme.She’swhatstartsmydayoffright.
ThefirsttimeIdidthiswasthemorningafterImether.Icouldn’tremembermuchfromthenightbefore.TheonlythingIrememberedwasher.Iwasonthecouch,andshewasstrokingmyhair,whispering,tellingmetogotosleep.WhenIwokeupinCorbin’sapartmentthenextmorning,Icouldn’tgetheroutofmyhead.IthoughtshehadbeenadreamuntilIsawherpurseinthelivingroom.
Ipeekedinsideherbedroomjusttoseeifanyonewasintheapartmentwithme.WhatIfeltthemomentIlaideyesonherwassomethingIhadn’tfeltsincethemomentIfirstlaideyesonRachel
IfeltlikeIwasfloating.HerskinandherhairandherlipsandthewayshelookedlikeanangelwhileIstoodthereandwatchedherbroughtbacksomanyfeelingsthathadbecomeforeigntomeoverthepastsixyears.
Ihadgonesolongrefusingtoallowmyselftofeelanythingforanyone.
NotthatIcouldhavecontrolledthefeelingsIwasexperiencingtowardTatethatday.Icouldn’tcontrolthemifI’dwantedto.
Iknow,becauseItried.
Itriedlikehell.
Butthesecondsheopenedhereyesandlookedatme,Iknew.Shewaseithergoingtobethedeathofme…orshewasgoingtobetheonewhofinallybroughtmebacktolife.
TheonlyproblemIhadwiththatwasthefactthatIdidn’twanttobebroughtbacktolife.Iwascomfortable.ProtectingmyselffromthepossibilityofexperiencingwhatIhadexperiencedinthepastwasmyonlypriority.However,thereweresomanymomentswhenIforgotwhatmyonlyprioritywassupposedtobe.
WhenIfinallycavedandkissedher,thatwasthepointatwhicheverythingchanged.Iwantedsomuchmoreafterexperiencingthatkisswithher.Iwantedhermouthandherbodyandhermind,andtheonlyreasonIstoppedwasthatIfeltmyselfalsowantingherheart.Iwasgoodatlyingtomyself,though.ConvincingmyselfthatIwasstrongenoughtohaveherphysicallyandnootherway.Ididn’twanttogethurtagain,andIsureashelldidn’twanttohurther.
Ididanyway,though.Ihurthersomuch.Morethanonce.NowIplantospendalifetimemakingituptoher.
Iwalktomybedandsitontheedgeofit.Shefeelsthebedshift,andsheopenshereyesbutnotalltheway.Ahintofasmileplaysonherlipsbeforeshepullsthecoversoverherheadandrollsover.
Weofficiallybegandatingsixmonthsago,andthat’sbeenplentylongenoughformetorealizeshe’snotatallamorningperson.Ileanforwardandkisstheareaofblanketcoveringupherear.
“Wakeup,sleepyhead,”Iwhisper.
Shegroans,soIliftthecoversupandslideinbehindher,wrappingmyselfaroundher.Hergroaneventuallyturnsintoasoftmoan.
“Tate,youneedtogetup.Wehaveaplanetocatch.”
Thatgetsherattention.
Sherollsovercautiouslyandpullsthecoversfromoverourheads.“Whatthehelldoyoumeanwehaveaplanetocatch?”
I’mgrinning,tryingtocontainmyanticipation.“Getup,getdressed,let’sgo.”
She’seyeingmesuspiciously,whichmakestotalsense,consideringit’snotevenfiveo’clockinthemorningyet.“Iknowyouknowhowrareitisformetohaveanentiredayoff,sothisbetterbeworthit.”
Ilaughandgiveheraquickkiss.“Thatalldependsonourabilitytobepunctual.”Istandupandpatthemattressseveraltimeswiththepalmsofmyhands.“Sogetup,getup,getup.”
Shelaughsandthrowsthecoversoffofhercompletely.Shescootstotheedgeofthebed,andIhelpherstandup.“It’shardtostayirritatedwithyouwhenyou’rethisgiddy,Miles.”
???
Wereachthelobby,andCapiswaitingattheelevatorjustasIaskedhimto.Hehasherjuiceinato-gocupandourbreakfast.Ilovetherelationshiptheyhave.IwasalittleworriedtorevealtoTatethatIhadknownCapallmylife.WhenIfinallytoldher,shewasirritatedwithbothofus.MostlybecausesheassumedCapwastellingmeeverythingsheconfessedtohim.
IassuredherCapwouldn’tdothat.
Iknowhewouldn’t,becauseCapisoneofthefewpeopleinthisworldItrust.
Heknewjusttherightthingstosaytomewithoutappearingasthoughhewerelecturingmeorgivingmeadvice.He’dalwayssayjustenoughtomakemethinklongandhardaboutmysituationwithTate.Luckily,he’soneofthefewpeoplewhogrowwiserwithage.Heknewwhathewasdoingwithbothofusallalong.
“Morning,Tate,”hesaystoher,grinningfromeartoear.Heholdsouthisarmforhertotake,andshelooksbackandforthbetweenus.
“What’sgoingon?”sheasksCapashebeginstowalkhertowardthelobbyexit.
Hesmiles.“Theboyisabouttotakemeonmyfirst-everrideinanairplane.Iwantedyoutocomealong,too.”
Shetellshimshedoesn’tbelievethisishisfirsttimeinanairplane.
“It’strue,”hesays.“Just’causeIhavethemonikerdon’tmeanI’veeverbeenonarealplane.”
Thelookofappreciationsheshootsmeoverhershoulderisenoughtodeclarethisdayoneofmyfavorites,andit’snotevendaylightyet.
???
“Youokaybackthere,Cap?”Isayintotheheadset.He’sseatedrightbehindTate,staringouthiswindow.Hegivesmeathumbs-upbutdoesn’ttakehiseyesoffthewindow.Thesunhasn’tevenbrokenthroughthecloudsyet,andthere’snotverymuchtoseeatthispoint.We’veonlybeenintheplanetenminutes,butI’mprettysurehe’sjustasfascinatedandmesmerizedasIhopedhewouldbe.
IreturnmyattentiontothecontrolsuntilIreachoptimalaltitude,andthenImuteCap’sheadset.IglanceatTate,andshe’sstaringatme,watchingmewithanappreciativesmilespreadacrossherlips.
“Wanttoknowwhywe’rehere?”Iaskher.
SheglancesoverhershoulderatCapandthenlooksbackatme.“Becausehe’sneverdonethisbefore.”
Ishakemyhead,timingitjustright.“Rememberthedayweweredrivingbackfromyourparents’houseafterThanksgiving?”
Shenods,buthereyesarecuriousnow.
“Youaskedwhatitwasliketoexperiencethesunrisefromuphere.It’snotsomethingthatcanbedescribed,Tate.”Ipointoutherwindow.“Youjusthavetoexperienceitforyourself.”
Sheimmediatelyturnsandlooksoutherwindow.Herpalmspressagainsttheglass,andforfiveminutesstraight,shedoesn’tmoveamuscle.Shewatchesittheentiretime,andIdon’tknowhow,butIfallevenmoreinlovewithherinthismoment.
Whenthesunhasbrokenthroughthecloudsandtheairplaneiscompletelyfilledwithsunlight,shefinallyturnsbacktofaceme.Hereyesarefilledwithtears,andshedoesn’tspeakaword.Shejustreachesformyhandandholdsit.
???
“Waithere,”Itellher.“IwanttohelpCapoutfirst.Adriveristakinghimbacktotheapartment,becauseyouandIaregoingtobreakfastafterthis.”
ShetellsCapgood-byeandwaitspatientlyintheplaneasIhelphimdownthesteps.Hereachesintohispocketandhandsmetheboxes,thenflashesmeoneofhisapprovingsmiles.Ishovetheboxesintothepocketofmyjacketandturnbacktowardthesteps.
“Hey,boy!”Capyells,rightbeforeclimbingintothecar.Ipauseandturnaroundtofacehim.Helooksattheplanebehindme.“Thankyou,”hesays,wavinghishanddownthelengthoftheplane.“Forthis.”
Inod,buthedisappearsinsidethevehiclebeforeIcantellhimthankyouinreturn.
Iclimbbackupthestepsandintotheplane.She’sunbucklinghersafetybelt,gettingpreparedtoexittheplane,butIslidebackintomyseat.
Shesmilesatmewarmly.“You’reincredible,MilesMikelArcher.AndIhavetosay,youlookprettydamnhotflyinganairplane.Weshoulddothismoreoften.”
Shegivesmeaquickpeckonthemouthandbeginstogetupoutofherseat.
Ipushherbackdown.“We’renotfinished,”Isay,turningandfacingherfullon.Itakeherhandsinmineandlookdownatthem,inhalingslowly,preparingtosayeverythingshedeservestohear.“Thatdayyouaskedmeaboutwatchingthesunrise?”Ilookherintheeyesagain.“Ineedtothankyouforthat.ItwasthefirstmomentinmorethansixyearsIfeltlikeIwantedtolovesomeoneagain.”
Sheblowsoutaquickbreathwithhersmileandpullsinherbottomliptotrytohideit.Iliftahandtoherfaceandpullherlipoutfrombeneathherteethwiththepressureofmythumb.“Itoldyounottodothat.IloveyoursmilealmostasmuchasIloveyou.”
Ileanforwardtokissheragain,butIkeepmyeyesopensoIcanmakesurethatI’mretrievingtheblackboxfirst.WhenIhaveitinmyhand,Istopkissingherandpullaway.Hereyesfalltotheboxandimmediatelygrowwide,movingbackandforthbetweentheboxandmyface.Herhandcomesuptohermouth,andshecovershergasp.
“Miles,”shesays,continuingtotradeglancesbetweenmeandtheboxinmyhands.
Icutheroff.“It’snotwhatyouthink,”Isay,immediatelyopeningtheboxtorevealthekey.“It’skindofnotwhatyouthink,”Ihesitantlyadd.
Hereyesarewideandhopeful,andI’mrelievedbyherreaction.Icantellbyhersmilethatshewantsthis.
Ipullthekeyoutandflipherhandover,thenplaceitinherpalm.Shestaresatthekeyforseveralsecondsandlooksbackupatme.“Tate,”Isay,lookingatherwithhope.“Willyoumoveinwithme?”
Shelooksdownatthekeyonemoretime,thensaystwowordsthatbringanimmediatesmiletomyface.
Hellandyes
Ileanforwardandkissher.Ourlegsandarmsandmouthsbecometwopiecesofapuzzle,fittingtogethereffortlessly.Shewindsupinmylap,straddlingmeinthecockpitoftheairplane.
It’scrampedandtight.
It’sperfect.
“I’mnotaverygoodcook,though,”shewarns.“AndyoudolaundrywaybetterthanIdo.Ijustthrowallthewhitesandcolorstogether.AndyouknowI’mnotveryniceinthemorning.”She’sholdingmyface,spoutingoffeverywarningshecan,asifIdon’tknowwhatI’mgettingmyselfinto.
“Listen,Tate,”Itellher.“Iwantyourmess.Iwantyourclothesonmybedroomfloor.Iwantyourtoothbrushinmybathroom.Iwantyourshoesinmycloset.Iwantyourmediocreleftoversinmyfridge.”
Shelaughsatthat.
“Oh,andIalmostforgot,”Isay,pullingtheotherboxfrommypocket.Iholditupbetweenusandopenit,revealingthering.“Ialsowantyouinmyfuture.Forever.”
Hermouthisopeninshock,andshe’sstaringatthering.She’sfrozen.Ihopeshedoesn’thavedoubts,becauseIhaveabsolutelynonewhenitcomestowantingtospendtherestofmylifewithher.Iknowit’sonlybeensixmonths,butwhenyouknow,youknow.
Hersilencemakesmenervous,soIquicklyremovetheringandpickupherhand.“Willyoubreakrulenumbertwowithme,Tate?BecauseIreallywanttomarryyou.”
Shedoesn’tevenhavetosayyes.Hertearsandherkissandherlaughsayitforher.
Shepullsbackandlooksatmewithsomuchloveandappreciationitmakesmychesthurt.
She’sabsolutelybeautiful.Herhopeisbeautiful.Thesmileonherfaceisbeautiful.Thetearsstreamingdownhercheeksarebeautiful.
Her
love
is
beautiful.
Sheexhalesasoftbreathandleansinslowly,gentlypressingherlipstomine.Herkissisfilledwithtendernessandaffectionandanunspokenpromisethatshe’sminenow.
Forever.
“Miles,”shewhispersagainstmymouth,teasingmylipswithhers.“I’venevermadeloveinanairplanebefore.”
Asmileimmediatelyformsonmylips.It’sasifshesomehowinfiltratedmythoughts.
“I’venevermadelovetomyfiancéebefore,”Isayinresponse.
Herhandsslowlyslidedownmyneckandshirtuntilherfingersmeetthebuttononmyjeans.
“Well,Ithinkweneedtorectifythat,”shesays,endinghersentencewithakiss.
Whenhermouthmeetsmineagain,it’sasifeverylastpieceofmyarmordisintegratesandeverylastpieceoficesurroundingtheglacierthatwasmyheartmeltsandevaporates.
Whoevercoinedthephrase,IloveyoutodeathobviouslyneverexperiencedthekindofloveTateandIshare.
Ifthatwerethecase,thephrasewouldbeIloveyoutolife
Becausethat’sexactlywhatTatedid.
Shelovedmebacktolife.
The
end.EPILOGUE
IthinkbacktothedayImarriedher.
Itwasoneofthebestdaysofmylife.
IrememberstandingnexttoIanandCorbinattheendoftheaisle.WewerewaitingforhertowalkthroughthedoorswhenCorbinleanedoverandwhisperedsomethingtome.
Hesaid,“You’retheonlyonewhocouldhaveevermetmystandardsforher,Miles.I’mhappyit’syou.”
Iwashappyitwasme,too.
Thatwasmorethantwoyearsago,andeverydaysincethen,I’vesomehowfalleninlovewithheralittlebitmore.
Orflew,rather.
Ididn’tcrythedayImarriedher,though.
Hertearswere
falling
falling
falling
thatday,
butmineweren’t.
Iwasconvincedtheyneverwould.
NotinthewayIwishedtheycould.
Itwaseightmonthsagowhenwefoundoutwewerehavingababy.
Weweren’ttryingtohaveababy,butwealsoweren’tnottrying.
“Ifithappensithappens,”Tatesaid
Ithappened.
Whenwefoundout,wewerebothexcited
Shecried.
Hertearswere
falling
falling
falling,
butmineweren’t.
AsexcitedasIwas,Iwasalsoscared.
Iwasscaredofthefearthatcomesalongwithlovingsomeonethatmuch.
Scaredofeverythingbadthatcouldhappen.
IwasscaredthatmymemorieswouldtakeawayfromthedayIbecameafatheragain.
Well,itjusthappened.
AndI’mstillscared.
Terrified.
“It’sagirl,”thedoctorsays.
Agirl.
Wejusthadababygirl.
Ijustbecameafatheragain.
Tatejustbecameamother.
Feelsomething,Miles
Tatelooksupatme.
Iknowshecanseethefearinmyeyes.Ialsoknowhowmuchpainshe’sinrightnow,butshestillsomehowmanagesasmile.
“Sam,”shewhispers,sayinghernameoutloudforthefirsttime.TateinsistedwenameherSaminhonorofCap’srealname,Samuel.
Iwouldn’thavehaditanyotherway.
ThenursewalksovertoTateandlaysSaminherarms.
Tatebeginstocry.
Myeyesarestilldry.
I’mstilltooscaredtolookawayfromTateanddownatourdaughter.
I’mnotafraidofwhatI’llfeelwhenIlookather.
I’mafraidofwhatIwon’tfeel.
I’mterrifiedmypastexperienceshaveruinedanyabilityIhavetofeelwhateveryfathershouldfeelinthismoment.
“Comehere,”Tatesays,wantingmecloser.
Isitdownnexttothemonthebed.
ShehandsSamtome,andmyhandsareshaking,butItakeheranyway.
Iclosemyeyesandreleaseaslowbreathbeforefindingthecouragetoopenthemagain.
IfeelTate’shandfallgentlytomyarm.
“She’sbeautiful,Miles,”shewhispers.“Lookather.”
IopenmyeyesandinhalesharplywhenIseeher.
Shelooksjustlikehedid,exceptthatshehasTate’sbrownhair.
Hereyesareblue.
Shehasmyeyes.
I
feel
it.
It’sallthere.
EverythingIfeltthefirsttimeIheldhiminmyarmsiseverysinglethingI’mfeelingnowasIlookdownather.
BelievingthatIlackedtheabilitytolovesomeoneinthiscapacityagainwastheonlyfearIhadlefttoconquer.
OnelookatSam,andshejusthelpedmeconquerthatfear.
She’salreadymyhero,andshe’sonlytwominutesold.
“She’ssobeautiful,Tate,”Iwhisper.“Sobeautiful.”
Myvoicecracks.
Myfaceiscoveredintears.
Falling
Falling
Falling.
ForthefirsttimesincethemomentIheldClaytoninmyarms,I’mcryingtearsofjoy.
Rachelwasright.Thepainwillalwaysbethere.
Sowillthefear.
Butthepainandfeararenolongermylife.They’reonlymoments.
MomentsthatareconstantlyovershadowedwitheveryminuteIspendwithTate.
AndnowwitheveryminuteIspendwithSam.
MeandTateandSam.
Myfamily.
Ikissherontheforehead,andthenIleanoverandkissTateforgivingmesomethingthisbeautifulagain.
Tatelaysherheadonmyarm,andwebothwatchher.
Ourdaughter.
Iloveyousomuch,Sam.
I’mlookingdownattheperfectionwecreatedwhenithitsme.
It’sallworthit.
It’sthebeautifulmomentslikethesethatmakeupfortheuglylove.SPECIALCONTENT
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
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Toallmyfriendsandbeta-readers,youguysknowwhoyouare.Yourfeedbackandsupportcontinuetobaffleme.KnowthatIloveyouandthankyouandcouldn’tdothiswithoutanyofyou.
Myamazingfamily.Idon’tknowhowIluckedoutandgotthebestone,butI’llnevertakeanyofyouforgranted.Especiallymyfourboys.
FPgals,y’allalwaysknowexactlywhentofiretheglittercannonsandreleasetheunicorns.Wemakeagreatteam.
TomyWeblichs.WemaynotknowhowtoproperlypronounceWeblich,butwewearthenamewithpride.Idon’tevenknowwhattosay,otherthanthankyouforgivingmeaplacetogowhenIneedencouragement,agoodlaugh,anda

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