27. Rohit
I knock excitedly on Miley’s door. I’m probably way too early, but I’m so excited I can’t help it. Miley opens the door with a smile on her face.
“You’re early, but I’m not surprised,” she says as she leads the way into her apartment. She hands me a glass of ice water and I take it happily. We’ve been fake dating for long enough that she knows when I’d prefer water and when I’d prefer beer, and I have to admit, it’s nice. She grabs a diet coke for herself and nods towards her bed. I notice her laptop is open and I tilt my head in an unspoken question. “Come, sit. I want to show you something.”
She plops on the corner of her bed and I gingerly sit near her, taking care to leave some space between us. I have gotten far too comfortable being affectionate with Miley in public, and it’s becoming harder to hold myself back in private. Even though there’s no one to put on a show for, I crave the closeness with her in a way I’ve never experienced before.
Miley leans forward to unlock her laptop. I can’t help staring at her cleavage in her fitted cropped tank top. She looks up and catches me looking. Instead of being offended or calling me out, her cheeks turn a pretty pink as she smiles and turns the laptop towards me so that I can see.
“I found this show online. It follows professional tennis players around to the tournaments and it has interviews with them and stuff. I actually got hooked. And I think I’ll understand a lot more about today’s match.” Miley has such joy on her face that I instinctively reach my hand out to hers.
“That’s great,” I say gruffly. “I think today’s match will be fun for you. We are going to get there early so I can show you around the tennis center. We’ll have time to get something to eat before the match.” My fingers absentmindedly stroke her hand.
Miley’s cheeks flush again, but she doesn’t pull her hand away. I look at her nails. “Are those little tennis balls?”
“In honor of the U.S. Open! Angela was excited to try it.” Miley smiles, examining the delicate details too, then she uses her free hand to reach for her phone. “I’ve got our tickets right here. I transferred two tickets to Ruby so she and Charlie will just meet us there. Should we head out?”
“Let’s do it,” I say, reluctantly releasing Miley’s hand. I take note of her tank top and cut-off denim shorts, and then glance towards the door.
“Don’t worry, I’m wearing sneakers. I know there’s a lot of walking,” Miley remarks, noticing my hesitation. She stands and I follow her to the door.
“Good, otherwise I’d have to carry you everywhere,” I say, placing my hand on the small of her back.
Miley tilts her head. “Maybe that wouldn't be so bad,” she whispers with a sly smile.
It takes every fiber of self control to keep my hands off of her.
“What are the bag rules?” she asks.
“I’m not sure. I’ve never brought a bag,” I answer truthfully. Miley searches on her phone and deems her bag appropriate for the venue.
“The seven train will take us directly there, and it’s an easy ride, so DO NOT order an Uber.” Miley shoots me a pointed look.
“Yes, ma’am.” I mock salute, knowing full well that I had no plans of ordering one anyway.
The heat on the subway platform is stifling, but there’s some relief once we are on the train. It’s not crowded yet, but I know the trip home will be a different story.
When we get to the Billie Jean King Tennis Center, Miley shows the tickets on her phone and we are admitted to the grounds. She peers around with wide eyes.
“I had no idea how big this place was. And look at all the food options!” Her eyes are as big as saucers. “What do they do with it when the U.S. Open is over?”
“It’s the venue for tennis programs and camps, it’s open to the public, and sometimes it’s a venue for events like New York state high school championships,” I explain, taking her hand and intertwining our fingers together. We fit perfectly and I can’t imagine a time when I won’t be able to see her and touch her like this. Ruby’s wedding is around the corner, and I’m sure Miley will “break up” with me soon after.
“What do you know about New York state high school championships?” Miley asks with her head tilted, breaking my downward mental spiral.
“Well, if you ask my mom, she’d tell you that the match I won was the reason my high school team won states that year.”
“So humble, my goodness,” Miley teases.
“Well, I said if you ask my mom…” My voice trails off as I lead Miley to the front of Arthur Ashe. “This is the stadium where the finals match will take place.”
We stand together, staring at the monitor with a display that alternates between the two players and different photos of the arena. When a photo of the plaque that the players pass when entering the court appears, I squeeze Miley’s hand.
She looks at the monitor and reads out loud, “Pressure is a privilege.”
I lean down so I can whisper in her ear. “That’s what my tattoo says.”
She turns and places her hand on my chest, right over the tattoo. So she’s noticed. I inhale sharply, my chest burning under her touch.
“That’s so sexy,” she says with a smile.
“Hold up, you think I’m sexy?” I ask, grinning like a lunatic.
“I said no such thing. I said the tattoo is sexy, I said nothing of the person attached to it. God, so cocky,” she says, rolling her eyes. But I can tell she’s teasing by the way she’s trying not to smile.
I’m just about to place a hand on her hip and make a joke about how cocky I actually am, when I hear her sister’s voice.
“MILEY! ROHIT!” Ruby shouts as she approaches us, cockblocking her way over. Charlie is close behind. “Stop fondling each other and get over here,” she jokes as she opens her arms for a hug. Miley obediently embraces her sister and Charlie. I quickly give Ruby a half-hug and nod my hello to Charlie.
“Should we get something to eat before the match?” Charlie wonders, looking at the numerous options. “Let’s look around,” he offers as he takes Ruby’s hand and leads the way to peruse the vendors.
Ruby excitedly looks over her shoulder at Miley and me. “I’m already having so much fun! Are there other tennis tournaments we can go to?”
“I recently learned there are four grand slams. Australia in January, France in the spring, Wimbledon in July, and this!” Miley glances at me for approval. My pride knows no bounds that she would learn about something I love, as I place my arm around her waist.
Ruby stops and turns around to us fully. “Miley, that’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk about any sportsball.”
Miley shrugs. Charlie shakes his head. “Babe, don’t you remember how you learned a little about tennis when we got together? It’s cute.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to all four slams,” I say wistfully. “I just haven’t had anyone to go with. Not everyone likes tennis enough to plan their vacations around grand slam events.”
Our group continues walking slowly, but Ruby calls over her shoulder, “Let’s do it. Wimbledon is far enough from now that we have time to plan a trip. The four of us can go together.”
Miley stops. “Ruby, that’s nine months away. A lot can happen in nine months. We don’t know if we’d still want to go…” Her voice trails off, avoiding my stare.
I know that our fake relationship has an expiration date, but her words still sting and my hand falls from her waist. I take one step backwards, putting some physical space between me and the source of all of my feelings. Maybe splitting up for a few minutes is a good idea. I need to clear my head and remember that my relationship with Miley is one for her convenience, and not my feelings.
“I need to get Miley her first Honey Deuce cocktail, so maybe Charlie and I can get the drinks, and the girls can get the food?” I offer, hoping my reasoning isn’t too obvious.
Ruby watches Miley with narrowed eyes, but when she turns to me, her eyes soften. “Good idea Rohit. Miley and I will go to LaFrieda, and get us some food. Meet you guys back in front of Ashe.”
I gratefully accept the out and head to the bar. I walk a few steps away but can still hear Ruby speaking to Miley in a not-so-hushed tone.
“Miley, what is wrong with you? Why are you acting like your relationship could end at any moment? Rohit is a great guy, and he’s clearly obsessed with you, but if you don’t have those kinds of feelings for him, you should let him know. If you’re just insecure or something, then you need to get over it. I know you think you’re in the 23rd grade or something, because you’re a resident, but you’re actually an adult. Talk to him about your feelings like a grown human.”
I can’t see Ruby or Miley, but I also can’t bear to turn or stick around to hear Miley’s response. Luckily, Charlie has caught up to me and we head over to stand in line to buy our Honey Deuces.
“I’m not ashamed to admit I collect the cups,” Charlie says as we stand shoulder to shoulder in line.
“They are collectibles. Of course you collect them,” I say graciously, “I have a cabinet full of them.”
Though the line is long, it moves quickly. Before I know it, Charlie and I are both holding a Honey Deuce in each hand and making our way back to Ashe. When we don’t see the girls, we realize they are probably still in line at LaFrieda. We head that way instead.
As we approach, I scan the long line at LaFrieda. The line snakes around and around, and I see Ruby and Miley standing near the front. A tall guy with floppy blonde hair just collected his order and is walking out to the seating section and bumps into Miley. She tucks her hair behind her right ear as she steps aside to let him pass, but he doesn’t move. He blatantly checks her out, eyes roaming from her face to her chest unabashedly. What the fuck is he doing?
My pace quickens. My jealousy peaks and I would be full on running except for these damn drinks I’m holding. After what feels like an eternity, I reach Miley and hear the guy asking her if she’s excited for the match. Miley nods quietly. I slide in next to her and extend a drink out to her.
“Honey Deuce?” I say with the drink extended, breath held. When Miley’s lips quirk up as she takes the drink from me, and I wrap my arm around her waist. I can finally exhale.
She thanks me and examines the beverage. The guy’s eyes dart from Miley, to me, to the tight hold I have around her. He takes a single step back.
“Sorry bro, but look at her, she’s gorgeous. I had to shoot my shot.” He shrugs in fake apology and turns away.
My gaze follows his retreating form, my free hand clenched in a fist so tightly around my cup it could break.
“Yum, this is really good,” Miley says, and her voice cools my jealousy. I turn my attention to her and watch as she takes a long sip. The glass is already half empty.
“Miley! That drink is really strong!” I bark a laugh, knowing she’s going to feel the alcohol very quickly.
She finishes the drink in a few more sips. “What’s in this anyway?”
“It’s mostly just Grey Goose,” I say, shaking my head.
“Goose,” Miley says with a giggle. Oh man, my girl’s so cute when she’s slightly tipsy.
“You’re a goose, a silly one,” I say, using the hand that I have protectively around her waist to guide her forward in line. She leans into me and takes a quick sip out of my drink, too.
I hear Ruby murmur something to Charlie behind me but I can’t make out what she says. I’m too busy focusing on Miley. By the time we get to the front of the line, Miley has finished her drink and half of mine, and she is the most relaxed I have ever seen.
Charlie orders enough food for us all and carries it to one of the picnic tables on the grounds. We enjoy our filet mignon steak sandwiches, and when she’s done, Miley leans against my shoulder. I relish the moment until we are ready to enter the stadium.
“Goose, it’s time to watch the match,” I whisper.
“Goose.” She giggles again. “I like it when you call me that.”
God help me, I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the next four hours with a sweet, happy Miley without falling even deeper than I already have.