24. I’m an Idiot
24
Miles
It’s been five days since I last saw Roxy, and I’m fucking miserable. Every time guilt starts to gnaw at my gut, I push that shit down with renewed anger. I didn’t do this to us.
She did.
She’s the one who insisted we just be friends despite the chemistry between us. She’s the one who made me fall for her, giving me a little more hope every time we got together that this thing between us would eventually turn into something real. Hell, it was already real for me. I just needed to keep working to convince her of it.
And she’s the one who wrecked me when she let that douche at the bar put his hands all over her ass. Right in front of me.
I reach for the stack of papers resting on the counter. It’s the beginnings of a business plan I’d been writing up for Moxy. I’d hoped to surprise Roxy with it after I found the perfect location. I knew she didn’t want to take money from me, so I was working hard to tighten the plan enough that a bank would take a chance and give her a small business loan.
But that’s over now, isn’t it? We’re not on speaking terms, and whatever we had going is over.
Picking the papers up, I heave a sigh and toss them into the trash can.
There’s a light knock on my door, and I walk over to answer it. I’m a little surprised when I see Tessa waiting on the other side of the threshold, shifting her weight nervously and wearing a pained expression.
“Hey, Miles.”
“Hey, Tessa. What’s up?”
I motion for her to come in even though I’m in no mood to chitchat. Especially if she wants to talk about Roxy, which I’m pretty sure is the case. But Riggs is my best friend, and I refuse to be rude to his fiancée.
“I wanted to talk to you about Roxy.”
Of course. “What is there to talk about? We were friends, and now we’re not. No big deal.”
“Is that really how you feel? Because I know for a fact she feels differently,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Oh? And how does she feel?”
“Miserable without you,” she says, then narrows her gaze. “And if you tell her I said that, you’re dead to me.”
I shake my head. “It’s not like we were––”
“This is all my fault,” she cuts in, not letting me finish my sentence.
“How is this your fault?”
“Before that asshat asked her to dance, we were talking about you. She was feeling conflicted about your whole friends-with-benefits deal, and I encouraged her to end it.”
“What?” I exclaim, and she shoots me an irksome glare.
“To date you for real, Miles. Any idiot can see how good you two are together, and I pretty much told her so. I guess I pushed too hard, and when that guy asked her to dance…” She shrugs. “She was trying to prove to herself that you two are really just friends. That she’s single and can do whatever she wants. But Miles, she hated every second of it. She didn’t want to be out there with him, not really, and she would’ve decked him for touching her if you hadn’t interfered.”
“She yelled at me for trying to protect her,” I say, deflating.
“It was a knee-jerk reaction because of her feelings for you. She doesn’t want to feel that way.”
“And how does she feel?” I ask, a sliver of hope niggling through me.
Tessa shakes her head. “That’s something you need to ask her. I just wanted to come over and explain, and to encourage you not to give up. I’ve never seen her as happy as she is when she’s with you.”
I freeze for a moment, tamping down that feeling of hope. Tessa is seeing what she wants to see. Roxy’s actions speak louder than her best friend’s words.
“What’s the point? She’s made her desire clear from the beginning. She doesn’t want anything more than friendship, and for a while, sex from me. I’m the one who fucked up and thought I could convince her we could be more. Then I fucked up again, acting like a jealous asshole at the club. It’s over.”
“Remember when you guys beat the cougars back in October?” she asks, her change of subject giving me whiplash.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Humor me.”
I sigh audibly. “Yes, I remember.”
“You were down by six with twenty-eight seconds left on the clock in the fourth quarter.”
My lips lift slightly at the memory. “Yeah, that asshole quarterback Jones got cocky and decided to throw a pass instead of running the ball like he should’ve to wind down the clock.”
“And what happened?” she asks, her own lips curving upward.
I grin. “I intercepted the ball and ran it back for a pick-six. The extra point won us the game.”
“And before that play, did you think the game was over?”
I hang my head a bit. “I did. It should’ve been over. The Cougars chose the wrong play.”
“Don’t let Roxy call all the plays. Intercept the fucking ball and run for the end zone, Blake,” she says, and then pats me on the shoulder, gives me a pointed look, and leaves.
I move over to the couch and slump down onto it with a sigh. Could Tessa be right? Should I take charge of the situation and prove to Roxy we belong together instead of giving in to what she says she wants?
Roxy’s anger at the club was convincing enough to make me second-guess her feelings for me. I’d been sure she was starting to see me as more than a friend, and her words and actions that night made me feel like a fool. I’d seen red when that douche touched her, and my jealousy, coupled with that feeling of foolishness, made me react poorly.
I was sure she’d been angry because I’d broken the terms of our deal––that if either of us started dating someone else, we’d revert to being just friends with no hard feelings. But what if I was wrong, and Tessa’s right? What if she reacted that way because she has real feelings for me, too, and was spinning out because she didn’t know how to deal with them?
God, I’m a fucking idiot.
Tessa is right. Recalling that whole interaction with a clearer mind, I remember the confusion and fear in Roxy’s eyes when she yelled at me. She was freaking out over her own feelings, and pushed me away so she wouldn’t have to deal with them.
I know her. And I know she cares about me more than she thinks she should. I wasn’t wrong about us. I was right the whole time, and I let my own hurt feelings guide my actions, stomping out of there instead of making Roxy talk things through with me.
I push myself to my feet and walk back into the kitchen. I pull the papers back out of the trash and set them on the counter, stacking them neatly. Then, I pull my phone from my pocket to make a call.
I’m going to fix this. And nothing and no one is going to stop me.
Not even Roxy, herself.