Chapter 8
Mia
I drag my feet upstairs, my heart throbbing in my chest. In my room, I head straight to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me harder than intended. Twisting the faucet, I wait for the water to hit that perfect warmth, a slight comfort. Letting out a heavy sigh, I take off my bathing suit; the fabric clinging to my wet body. Once I’m done, I step in the shower. The warm water is good on my skin, washes away the chlorine water on my body, and my confrontation with Jake.
He really thinks he can get me into his bed by pretending to care about me. I’m not sure how many girls he’s used this trick on, but it will not work on me. I overheard his chat with Alex about how he never sleeps with the same woman twice to avoid attachment. And how if I didn’t have a boyfriend, he would be interested in sleeping with me. Boyfriend or not, that will never happen. Yet, as his gaze lingered on my lips, my heart raced against my will. I don’t know if I would have stopped him if he tried to kiss me. The thought lingers, unsettling, as the water continues to fall. And how many women does he sleep with, anyway?
After washing and detangling my hair, I rinse off and grab a towel to dry off. Standing in front of the foggy mirror, I rub my hand over it enough to see my reflection. Deep lines form across my forehead. I inhale and exhale deeply to calm myself down. His behavior shouldn’t affect me this much.
I take some time to style my hair into some twists and put on my bonnet. Grabbing a pair of pajamas from the drawer, and putting them on, the soft fabric comforting against my skin.
The house is quiet. Alex and Sarah must have already left. They are nice, and I like them, even if they come a little strong.
I consider staying in my room, but the need for some tea forces me downstairs, even if it means possibly running into Jake. I tiptoe down the stairs, half expecting to bump into him.
Walking into the kitchen, I turn on the light. To my relief, the kitchen is empty. I grab a mug, add a tea bag, and hot water from the water dispenser. But then the soft shuffle of footsteps grabs my attention. He’s here, in the same space, and the air shifts slightly. I turn to face him and our eyes lock, and I hate the way my heart annoyingly beats a little faster.
He is wearing a black pajama pants with a black tank top. He shoves his hands into his pockets.
“Hey.” He says looking down at his feet. He seems unsure, as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.
“Hey.” I tighten my grip around the mug.
He watches me intently, as if he’s searching for the right words. “I, uh…” He pauses, clearing his throat. Those green eyes are staring, and there’s something there that wasn’t here before. “About earlier, at the pool…, I’m sorry if I crossed a line.” He takes a tentative step forward. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I want.”
His apology is unexpected, yet it feels sincere, stripping away the usual facade of confidence and charm. Because of this, I have a glimpse of vulnerability. But I’m not ready to let my guard down.
“How about we just stay out of each other’s way? We don’t need to be friends.” I brush past him, leaving no room for further conversation.
Back in my room, I lean against the door, letting out a heavy sigh. I’ve never felt this flustered, like ever. In college, there was a guy I dated briefly. I thought he liked me, then he cheated on me. It wasn’t so much that I was in love with him, but I hated the fact he cheated rather than just ending things. And the way he did it was even worse. I spent weeks telling myself maybe it was my fault. It’s why I’ve avoided any kind of relationship since then.
I simply don’t trust guys like him, or any guy for that matter. I went on a couple of dates before my mom got sick, and all they wanted to do after dinner was to have sex. It’s like they weren’t even trying to get to know me.
I have no issues with sex—well, I don’t know much about that. The last, and only time, I had it was horrible, but I do love a good orgasm, and that’s what my toys are good for. However, I want sex to be meaningful, with someone I care about, something more intimate than just an orgasm.
The sound of my phone snaps me back to the present, and I look at the screen. “Hey Papa.”
“Hey, sweetheart. How are you doing?”
“I’m good. How about you? How’re you holding up?” I walk over to the window, looking at the view of the forest. It’s so quiet.
“I’m keeping busy with work.”
I frown. “I get it.”
He sighs on the other line before speaking again. “So there’s an open spot for an internship at the hospital. I can talk to them if you’re interested.”
My grip tightens around the phone. “You said I have the summer to figure out what I want.”
“I know, but this is a great opportunity.”
For who, Dad?
“I’m not interested.” My jaw hardens as I try to stay calm, a metallic taste filling my mouth. I haven’t figured out anything yet.
“Okay, then. I gotta go. Be safe,” he says and hangs up.
No, I love you. He’s not happy I didn’t immediately say yes.
I stand there staring at the forest before sliding the glass window open. The cool air hits my face as I step into the balcony.
Today just keeps getting worse. First Jake, then my dad. I push thoughts of my dad aside, gripping the railing of the balcony. The conversation with Jake downstairs replays in my mind, my stomach twisting into tight knots.
My breath quickens, shallow, and rapid, as if I’m trying to breathe through a straw. I grip the railing harder, willing the cool air to fill my lungs, and with each breath, my body relaxes.
The forest is dark and mysterious, reflecting the complexity that is jake.
I can’t stop thinking of him standing in the kitchen, looking almost out of place. I’m used to studying people, slotting them into neat categories in my mind. But Jake doesn’t fit into one single category.
One moment, he’s teasing and flirting, the next he is pushing boundaries and looking genuinely concerned.
And then that apology.
Guys like Jake, to my knowledge, don’t apologize. They breeze through life with a smirk and a shrug.
So much for a quiet retreat. I let out a sigh, knowing I need to stay away from him, which is going to be hard considering we share a cabin.
After a few minutes, I head back inside and spot my tea on the nightstand, now cold. Shit, I completely forgot about it. I stomp my feet, and the sound bounces around in the quiet room as I fight the urge to scream. The last thing I want is to run into Mr. Complicated downstairs.
Looks like tea is off the table.
I huff, kicking the edge of the bed before grabbing a book from my nightstand, and flipping it open with more force than necessary. I try to lose myself in the words, my eyes scanning the pages, hoping to drown out the swirling thoughts of Jake. Slowly, the tension fades away as I focus on the story until I finally fall asleep.