Chapter 21
chapter twenty-one
Luke
It’s been two nights since Mia left the hotel room, and she hasn’t been back since.
I don’t really care what anyone else thinks or has to say about the fact that she hasn’t spent the night.
I’ve been easily able to explain that she’s just been busy working, and I’ve been busy working as well—because I have been.
But the fact of the matter is, I miss her like crazy.
I haven’t even been able to sleep without her.
I feel restless and pissed off and angry and guilty.
I realize I’ve been so consumed by Rex and our relationship that it has dictated so much of my life, and I am a fucking idiot for bringing him up right when beautiful, sweet Mia was rocking back and forth on me.
I can still feel my cock between her legs, so wet and eager.
I was about to pick her up by her hips and bring her down on top of me when I fucked up, and I still can’t believe that I did it.
I look over at the clock, and it’s eleven at night, and I’m missing her. She hasn’t returned any of my text messages, and it’s driving me crazy. I decide to call her, hoping that she’ll pick up. It rings out and goes to voicemail, but I call her again. I’m nothing if not insistent.
“Yes, Luke,” she says, answering.
I’m hurt by her tone, but happy to finally hear her voice again.
“Finally. I can’t sleep without you,” I say honestly, not even caring if she knows.
“Take a sleeping pill or something.”
Cold.
“Are you going to come back to the hotel room?”
“Why? Are you scared Rex is going to think we’re no longer in a relationship?”
“I don’t give a fuck about Rex, Mia. I just—I’m sorry, okay? I fucked up.”
“It’s fine. I’ve been working, and I just needed space.”
“I don’t know what to say, Mia. We talk every day, and you haven’t been speaking to me. I speak more to you when I’m in New York, and I’m here now, and I want to see you. I want to spend time with you before I go back.”
“Well, just pretend you’ve already gone back. We both know it’ll probably be another five years until I see you again anyway.” She sounds bitter, and I sigh.
“I know. We should have been better about trying to see each other. The time went by so quickly, and we would FaceTime. We chat all the time.”
“It’s not the same as hanging out in person though.”
“I know it’s not the same, but I didn’t realize just how much I’d missed you.” Which is a bit of a lie. I realized; I just didn’t want to open myself up to heartbreak and emotional turmoil, but I am not going to tell her that.
I am not going to tell her that I’ve loved her since we were teenagers because the fact of the matter is, I don’t think Mia feels that way about me.
I think I’m just some fun for her, and while I’m enjoying every moment, I don’t want to scare her away with the intensity or the realness of my feelings.
Because I am very much in love with her, and I don’t want to let her go.
“What are you doing?” I ask her softly.
“If this is you asking me if I’m masturbating while talking to you on the phone, that’s a no, Luke. No.”
“Have I ever asked you about that before, Mia?”
“No, but it’s late at night and—”
“Meet me,” I say. “You don’t have to come to the hotel. Meet me.”
“Meet you where?”
“At the beach.”
“What?”
“Let’s go look at the stars. Let’s look at the moon. I think it’s a full moon tonight, right? And that’s our thing.”
“Fine. I’ll meet you in thirty minutes.” She lets out a low laugh.
“Thank you.” My heart soars.
We hang up the phone, and I quickly get ready and head down to the beach.
I see her standing next to a coconut tree. Once I get there, she turns to look at me, but she doesn’t wave, and she doesn’t smile. She just stands there, looking like the Mia I remember from our teenage years, the Mia I remember from endless nights of hanging out at the beach.
“Hey,” I say. “I brought two Cokes.”
“I brought two Cokes as well.”
We both start laughing because that was our thing. We’d go down to the beach and drink Coke and eat chocolate and just stare at the stars. We both take a seat in the sand, timidly at first, like this is a first date or a breakup meeting.
“Do you know that I have not gone stargazing in forever, not since you left town?” she says, gazing over at me.
“Well, I guess I was the one who always told you the constellations,” I say, laughing.
“Yeah, you were.” She lets out a long sigh, and we just stare at each other.
“This feels really nice, being here with you. Thank you for meeting me.”
“I think we’re stuck in the past,” she says suddenly.
“I think we have such a beautiful friendship, and we are so close, and we’ve spent so much time together through the years.
I think we’ve both spent too many years reminiscing about how great and how perfect everything between us was, and I think we’re stuck.
I think we need to move past that.” She looks down, as she plays with her fingers.
Her foot taps in time to a song that I can’t hear.
I can feel her fading away from me. It feels like she’s describing a memory of another lifetime.
Like we no longer exist. Like we’re no longer Lukey and Mi-Mi.
My heart sinks because it feels like the end of something. It feels like I’m losing her, and I’m losing her friendship, and I’m losing the part of me that makes us, us, and I don’t want to lose it.
I can’t lose it. I will fight for her.
I will fight for us.
I will fight for the melody that has provided the soundtrack to our lives.
I don’t say anything. Instead, I watch as a crab crawls along the sand and digs its way into a hole.
I look over, and I see that she’s staring at me—her face beautiful, innocent, kind, angelic.
I want to grab her hand and just hold it.
I just want to touch her. I just want to feel that connection with her, but I don’t know what to say.
Words will not come because a part of me agrees with her.
Those years were the best in my life. She was the best part of my life, and yet I didn’t know how to tell her that.
“You want to go for a swim?” I say, standing up, needing to move, not wanting to remain stagnant, not wanting the feelings to build up—to make me upset, to make me hurt, to make me lash out.
“Swimming? It’s night,” she says.
“So? Let’s do it.”
“I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“We don’t need a bathing suit.”
“You want to go skinny-dipping?” She grins at me, her eyes light as she shakes her head. “You really are asking me to go skinny-dipping.”
“Well, I’m not asking you to fuck in the ocean for the first time,” I say, laughing. “But, yeah, let’s go skinny-dipping.”
She stares at me for a couple of seconds without saying anything.
“I dare you,” I say, and her eyes narrow. “I double-dog dare you.”
“You can’t double-dog dare me, Luke. That’s not fair.” She shakes her head. “You’re really not going to say anything to what I just said?”
I shrug. “Maybe I’ll know what to say after I dip in the water.”
“Fine,” she says.
I watch as she rips her clothes off quickly and drops them to the ground, then goes running to the water. I quickly peel off my clothes as well and go running in behind her. I stare at her ass as she runs away from me, and I can’t help but laugh as I jump into the water.
It is cold. I’m almost freezing, but I swim out.
I feel alive. I feel so at one with nature, and I float on my back for a couple of moments and then look over at her.
She’s swimming next to me. Her hair is plastered to her face, and her eyelashes are wet, and she’s gazing at me.
The moon illuminates her, and she looks like some beautiful mermaid or sea creature—magical and mystical—and I just want to hold her.
“It’s freezing,” she says, and all I can do is laugh.
“It is cold,” I say, “but your body will acclimate. I promise.”
“I hope so,” she says, and she lies on her back and starts floating. She bumps into me and giggles slightly. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I float on my back as well.
We just lie there in the water—in the calm water—naked, thinking, silent. But it’s not an awkward silence. It’s a companionable silence. It’s a silence where a million different things are said in the beauty of the night.
I feel her fingers lightly touching mine, and I look over. She’s staring into my eyes, and she smiles.
“Those were the best years of my life too.”
I just smile back at her because, of course, she was able to read my mind.
“I know. I just don’t want to let go of them,” I say.
“I think we have to, Luke. I think, for us to move forward in life, we have to let go of the past.”
“I know,” I say.
I swim away from her because it hurts, and I don’t want her to see the pain in my eyes. I look over and see that she’s still floating. She’s far away enough from me now that she can’t hear me if I whisper.
“I love you,” I say to the wind, even though I know it won’t carry the words to her ears.
She can’t hear me, and I’m glad for that because I’m too scared to tell her the truth.
“I love you,” I whisper. “I’ve always loved you, and I wish you would love me too.”
I realize then that I can’t continue like this.
My heart belongs to her, and now we’re in some crazy standstill.
My entire life feels like it’s not mine.
I’m here, back in Coconut Beach, and I feel like I never left.
I’ve got a job waiting for me in New York City, and I can barely remember what my apartment looks like.
I can’t remember not waking up beside her.
I can’t remember not spending at least some part of the day with her, and I don’t know that I can go back, and yet I don’t know that I can stay.
“We should swim back,” I say loudly, shouting as I swim over to her. “We don’t want to stay here too long.”
“Okay,” she says, nodding slowly.