Chapter 16 Gwen - The friendzone is the endzone #2
“All of it.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own, and the hurt on Miller’s face when he registers what I’m saying has me wishing I could take it all back.
But I don’t. Instead, I keep digging this damn hole.
“It’s just, we’re friends, right? Friends can kiss, but maybe it shouldn’t be around Penelope because then she’d get the wrong idea.
We don’t want to confuse things. I mean her.
I mean—” Miller just keeps fucking nodding, and I take a deep breath.
“I’m almost thirty, a bitter divorcee living next door to my ex-husband.
You’re twenty-three with the world’s most perfect daughter. It’s—”
“It doesn’t work. Got it.” Miller’s words are short and clipped, he stuffs his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. I suddenly miss the sweatpants he normally wears, the ones that he’s constantly pulling up because the guy has absolutely no hips or ass.
He looks anywhere but at me.
This doesn’t feel right. He’s agreeing with me. On paper, he’s making this a very easy break so we can continue doing what we were doing before we let fleeting feelings get in the way.
It doesn’t feel simple like that though.
“But we’re still friends,” I say while ringing my hands together.
“You said that.”
Miller stands two feet away from me in harsh, overhead lighting in the middle of the night. Our voices remain low to not wake the sleeping child still in the room with us. It’s a mix of our normal with a new that just isn’t sitting right with me.
I was supposed to feel better and lighter nipping this in the bud. It was supposed to be easy because what are we even talking about? It was one kiss.
“Great. Good talk. Well, the party's over so I guess—” I reach to pick the trash bag up and leave, but Miller steps towards me again and I freeze.
“Just so we’re abundantly clear, you want to be friends. Friends who sometimes kiss, just never in front of my kid.” His hand reaches up to cup my neck, the same way he did last night, and I instinctively lean into his touch.
“Yes?” No. That sounds wrong. That’s not even close to what I want. This isn’t about what I want. It’s about what’s safe.
His thumb rubs the spot behind my ear. The twinkle I swore I saw in his eyes earlier is nowhere to be found, and the slight tip in his lips is the furthest thing from a real Miller Caswell smile. But still he says, “I can do that.”
When he leans in, my dumbass lets my eyelids fall closed, expecting the same kind of kiss that felt like it flipped my world upside down only last night.
Instead, I’m slapped in the face with the reality I created when his other hand picks up the trash bag at our feet.
The rustling of the plastic causes me to open my eyes again.
“I’ll carry this out for you.” The hand holding me releases, leaving a cool, empty spot in its wake. Miller hoists the bag up and grabs a second one on his way out the back. I stay standing in the middle of the cafe wondering what the hell I just did.
I fucked up. That’s what I did.
“Thanks,” I say to no one. I make sure to give P a quick kiss on the head to say goodnight before retrieving my bag from under the counter.
Miller’s walking back from the dumpster by the time I get outside. He must have grabbed my keys off the rack because my car is already running, a gesture I appreciate when the cold air nips my face.
“Thanks,” I repeat when I take my clanky lanyard back.
“What are friends for?” he responds. It’s sarcastic and I hate it.
“Miller…”
“Sorry. I just kind of thought…You know what? It really doesn’t matter what I thought.
This is cool. Thank you, and I mean that.
This really was…this was really the best birthday either of us could have asked for.
” He holds the driver’s door open for me.
The last thing I want to do is get in, but I do.
“You both only deserve the best.”
He smiles and shuts my door. I immediately roll down the window, delaying the inevitable goodbye.
I can see him internally arguing with himself but he leans on his forearms with his head poking into the car.
“I’m sorry. For shutting down like that.
I’m not mad at you. Penelope and I are lucky to have you as a friend and a part of our lives.
You’re allowed to set boundaries. You’re just… ”
He doesn’t finish his sentence even though I’m desperately hanging onto every word. Someone with something more than false confidence would probably let things naturally trail off here. But, unfortunately, that’s not me. “I’m what, Miller?”
He stands up straight, letting his hands retreat back to the safety of his pockets, backing up a step to let me reverse out of my spot. “You’re everything, Gwen. You’re worth it all and then some, but I’ll take whatever you give me. Text me so I know you’re home safe.”
Miller doesn’t wait for me to answer. He turns and walks back inside. He doesn’t leave the doorway though. I see the silhouette of his hair until I turn the corner at the end of the alley.
I spend the rest of my drive home in silence, aside from the sounds of the wind whipping through my window because I didn’t even bother to roll it up. I bang my hand on the steering wheel, chastising myself for twisting my thoughts into words I didn’t mean.
I pull into my driveway and look at my pitch black empty house. Lovely. I didn’t even leave a light on for myself. I roll my window up, kill the engine, and fight against the pit in my stomach to pull out my phone to shoot a text off to Miller before trudging inside.
Me
home.
I see the dots that show he’s typing as soon as my text shows as delivered.
Miller
There’s a bag of candy and a note in your purse. I put it there before you clarified things. If you could just throw that away, that’d be great. I’m sorry.
Miller
I meant the note. Not the candy. That’s yours, obviously.
Miller
The note is yours too but I understand your position and I didn’t know I would be adding to things you probably don’t need right now.
The pit in my stomach now feels like it’s about to swallow me whole.
I shuffle around the chaotic contents that make up the inside of my purse to find the small Ziploc bag filled with peanut butter cups and little boxes of Nerds, the perfect mix of sweet and sour, left by Miller just for me.
Tears prickle behind my eyes before I even manage to pull the sticky note off the bag.
I don’t deserve this one, I know I don’t.
But I turn it over to read anyway, because what’s one more mistake to end the evening.
The words are so small to all fit on the tiny square so I have to squint to decipher them.
You read about first kisses like that. You see movies every day end just the same. You sit and wonder if the real thing could ever compare.
I then notice there’s another note attached to the back of this one. I pull them apart with shaky hands.
I get to now say kissing Gwendolyn Bozelli for the first time blows every single one of them out of the water. Stories could be written about how it felt.
A tear falls and lands directly in the middle of the small note. The water causes the ink to instantly smudge, and I think about how this absolutely couldn’t get worse.
Until a demon spawned from hell itself in the form of my ex-husband and current neighbor taps on my window causing me to throw the notes, candy, and my purse flying.