29. Rohit
M iley has clearly misunderstood. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her close, not letting her turn away from me.
“No,” I begin, shaking my head. “I mean I can’t pretend to be in a placebo relationship with you anymore. I don’t want it to be fake. I want...” I look down at her face, which seems so small as it peers up at me. Her eyes are glassy, like she’s holding back tears. I hold my breath, bracing for what I know is coming, for her to tell me she doesn’t feel the same way. I sigh. I can’t finish my sentence.
“Rohit,” she whispers. “We need to talk.” And there it is. She’s sweet, so she’s going to let me down gently, but it’s still going to hurt like hell. I keep my hands lightly on her waist as she turns and opens her door. She walks in, and I follow her inside like a love-sick puppy.
I close the door behind me, remove my shoes, and stand awkwardly, not sure where I should sit. The table seems too formal, but the bed is too intimate. Sensing my hesitation, Miley takes my hand and leads me to her bed. I sit, positioning myself on the corner. It seems like a safe distance away, but I can still face her for a conversation.
She slides closer to me, and I feel my heart pounding in my chest as she takes my hands again.
“Rohit, I have feelings for you too,” she says, eyes glued to our clasped palms.
Instead of feeling relief or happiness, I feel confusion because she seems so sad.
She continues to avert her gaze and I want so much to take her chin and tip her face to me, but I resist. Instead, I give her time to say what she needs to.
“It won’t work between us,” she admits, but her voice has an uncertainty to it. Finally, she looks at me, and I can see so much pain behind her eyes and face. Her words cut through me.
“Miley, I don’t understand.” I stroke her hand with mine.
“Rohit, you haven’t ever really wanted a relationship, and I’m not good at them either, so it just doesn’t make sense.” Miley shakes her head, and then there are tears in her eyes.
“You’re right, I haven’t wanted one,” I admit, and I see her deflate before me. But she should know the truth, that she’s changed everything. “But that was before,” I continue. “I have feelings now that I’ve never had, because you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever spent time with. You’re smart. You’re a badass, but you’re also so, so sweet.” I lean in, wiping the tears from her cheek. “You’re also hot as fuck,” I say, trying to make her smile. It doesn't work.
“Rohit, please. Stop. I can’t, I just can’t.” Miley moves away, but my hand won’t let go of hers. She turns back to me and sighs. “I owe you an explanation.” I stay quiet, waiting for her to continue. She takes a deep breath. “You’ve heard of my ex, Harrison.”
I nod tersely. I’m not sure where this is going. I find my voice and gruffly ask, “What did he do to you?”
Did he hurt her? I’ll murder him.
“He was my first serious relationship. In college, we got… intimate. I was naive.” She looks down at our hands again. I feel her growing clammy. I stroke my thumb over her to let her know it’s okay, to take her time. After a breath, she whispers, “I got pregnant.” My fingers still, but I don’t say anything. “When I told Harrison, he said some awful things, and then he ghosted me. I was alone, and I had to figure out what to do all by myself.”
“Oh Miley, come here,” I whisper, pulling her onto my lap. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone.”
“The only person who knows is Dylan,” Miley says into my shoulder, where she’s buried her face. “She helped me. She took me to Planned Parenthood. That’s why I started volunteering there, and why I’m so moved by the work they do.”
Pieces finally fall into place. Why Miley has been to the Planned Parenthood gala every year, why she was so reluctant to see Harrison that she agreed to have a fake relationship.
“Miley, you had to make a very hard choice, but that’s not a reason to avoid relationships forever,” I comfort, a little confused as I stroke her hair.
“There’s more.” She pulls back to look me in the eyes. “I’ve dated after Harrison. But, whenever it comes time for things to get more intimate, I just can’t get there…” Her voice trails off. “I can’t finish . And it’s hard for guys to handle, so they leave.” She buries her face into my shoulder again. “I don’t think I could take it if we dated, and you left me because of that.”
“Goose, I wouldn’t leave you,” I respond automatically.
“You say that now…” Miley’s muffled voice whispers.
“I wouldn’t leave you, because I’m in love with you.”