Chapter 18I really fucked up. #2
“Actually, I had a fight with Miller.” I hope it’s just a fight, I think to myself as I push my hair up into a ponytail, looping my scarf around my neck.
I fish my fingers into my gloves and look over at her.
“I didn’t tell him something I should have told him because I was thinking of myself instead of him. ”
“That’s okay, right? To think of yourself and put yourself first?” Mara asks, bumping her knee into mine, trying as best as she knows how to make me feel better.
I nod. “Sometimes. And I don’t want you to mistake this for me saying that your man needs to be happy over you because I'm not.” I rub my palms down my thighs, thinking of his and how strong and muscled they are.
How strong and muscled he is everywhere.
How my chest can ache and feel hollow while the bud between my thighs can pulse and quake is a very cruel design of the human body.
“I just mean, sometimes if you care about someone and want to make things work with them, you have to give things that you yourself are asking in return.”
Mara rolls her eyes as she pops the side door open and swings her leg out. “I thought you were gonna give me smart life advice but give people what you want them to give you ?” She winces. “Don’t quit your day job to be a philosopher; that’s all I’m saying.”
Making me laugh, I throw my fist into her arm playfully, and she jumps out of the car with a giggle.
“I’m surprised you know what a philosopher is,” I muse, making sure she’s collected everything she needs from the backseat of the car.
Carrying her bag over one shoulder and gripping the strap with her free hand as she stands in the snow-slushed road, waiting.
“I got everything, mom ; now let's go.”
After I finish locking up and double-checking, we head inside, and Mara immediately splits, leaving me carrying her bag and mine, our snack bag, and my water.
One extremely overladen duck walk later, and I’ve got myself perched on the perfect bleacher, close to the bottom but not ground level.
I can see Mara’s class; I have an eye on the hallway where Rock’s class is, and I can see the front door easily, too.
Literally perfect. Although it would be nice to be able to come here without strategically sitting places I feel I can easily escape from, that’s not where I’m at, so instead of wishing, I simply sit where I can protect myself.
An hour passes and Mara is sweaty and looking aggravated.
I motion to her to keep her head up, which she acknowledges with a nod.
This comp practice is harsh, and Mara is paired with another competitor outside her range.
The purpose is meant to test her mentally—she isn’t expected to beat her, but she is expected to alter and strengthen her expectations of the match to make it as successful as possible.
She’s struggling, but Mara’s always been one of those fighters that really shines in the eleventh hour.
After giving Mara a few more mouthed words of encouragement, I dig around in my bag for my EarPods, needing a hit of the sad shit to commiserate. Because if I’m not thinking about Mara or where to sit at karate or if the backseat is empty, I’m thinking about him.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, things were good. Today my heart is broken, and Miller didn’t come to work today.
I start to spin out when that simple fact comes careening back. I hurt him enough that Miller, the hardest working guy I arguably know outside of Art and Mom, needed to miss a day of work so that he didn’t have to be around me for a hot second.
I grip my stomach over my clothes, bringing no ease to the ache, but clutching myself is all I can do. I can’t take away my discomfort so I just sit there, EarPods sharing a story of heartbreak with me, hand on my gut, tears in my eyes.
For a split second, while my eyes are tracking the two muscular bodies moving together along the edges of the mat, I think about what it would be like with Miller had he known.
Night one, had I admitted I was a virgin, would we have even started this deal swap? My bottom lip trembles as I begin to circle back to the same answer that’s been drifting around my brain: no .
The same way that I wouldn’t have agreed to this thing with him if he promised he was a great mechanic but hadn’t actually worked on a car yet.
I fucked up.
I really fucked up.
And the worst part about being the one who fucks up? It’s all on you to make it right. Tearing my eyes from my sister, I dig out my phone and open a text message to him.
But what do I say?
I type a few things and delete them. I type “I’m sorry” and hover my finger over send for a while before deleting that, too.
I need to apologize.
Instead of feeling sad for myself, I need to take action and prove to Miller, no matter what happens between us, that I am sorry for not being truthful and that I do see I was wrong for hiding the fact that… I’m a virgin.
Maybe I’m more self-conscious of that fact than I realized.
“Laney,” a voice calls out my name, hoarse and raspy, and though the room is full of echoed shouts and hushed conversations, I look up over the shining gymnasium floor, trying to see if he’s here or if I’m straight hallucinating his voice.
My hands begin to tremble around my phone as my gaze searches the gym more frantically, determined to find him.
My bottom lip develops a tremble when I hear it again. “Laney.”
Right as I stand up and shove my phone away, ready to give this all my focus because if he’s not here, I need to go to the emergency room because I swear I’m hearing him. My fingers curl at my sides as I search because… I swear he’s here. I feel him.
Then out of nowhere, at my side, standing a bleacher below but a foot taller than me still, is Miller.
Bags have staked claim to real estate below his eyes, but he’s still wearing that adorable and intoxicating lopsided grin of his.
With his hands stuffed in his pockets, a trademark Navy blue baseball cap tugged over his hair, I fall back onto my butt, staring up at him.
My eyes fill as he takes a seat next to me.
I watch his large palm cover mine, and as he stitches our fingers together, my chest tightens.
“Can we go outside and talk?” he asks, studying our linked hands, focusing on everything but me. I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse, but he’s here, holding my hand, wanting to talk.
“Yes,” I answer instantly, climbing down the bleachers and dragging him into a corner of privacy in the hall near the drinking fountain.
Once we’re in a sliver of privacy together, my heart is beating so loudly, and I’m so fucking aware of my second chance that my mouth runs away from me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I’m a virgin,” I rush out, practically bouncing on my feet with how eager I am to get the words out.
“I’m so sorry, Miller. I realize that it would have made you feel a lot better, for one, but also, that it was just wrong to not tell you.
I really just thought we’d swap services and move on.
I didn’t tell you because I felt confident I could show you how to be confident without you having to know my actual experience level.
And I know now that I was just filling both of our heads with bullshit because I was just afraid to admit that…
I wanted to keep spending time with you.
” I roll my lips together, forcing everything out because Atticus was right.
I have to tell him why I lied because admitting that I did just isn’t enough.
“I’ve always thought of you as being someone who is way out of my league. I do feel confident in my abilities from how much I’ve heard in my books. But the truth is, I thought if I told you I’m a virgin, I’d lose some edge in your eyes. And this was my shot at having some time with you.”
With my bottom lip fully trembling, I hold his wide, emerald eyes, which are focused on me so intently that it steals my breath a little. I’ve never been looked at by a man the way that Miller looks at me. And I’m not ready to lose it, but I realize I may anyway.
“I didn’t expect to fall in love with you and have all of this mean so much more.
But here we are.” I shrug, letting the tears swim freely down my cheeks.
There’s no point in trying to stave them off now.
“I’m sorry, Miller. I was trying to have the best of both worlds.
Get my skills sharp for the apprentice exam, help you out, and selfishly get you in a way I never thought I could.
I thought I was balancing it all. But then…
I fell in love, and my lie hurt you, and I’m sorry. ”
He stares down into my eyes, jaw set with control.
“Say something.” My voice is terrifyingly hoarse. “I’m sorry, Miller. But please, say something.” I reach out and wrap my hand around his wrist since his hands are back in his pockets. “Please say you will still be my friend at Kings. I don’t want to ruin what we had at Kings.”
He takes his hand out of his pocket, stealing mine. Our fingers waffle together, and the gesture melts the unease in my belly, leaving me woozy and warm.
When he clears his throat, my senses jump. “You love me?” His hold on my hand tightens.
“Sickeningly so.”