Chapter 11 #2
“Uh, well,” he starts, his tone turning more serious, “when I was still drinking, I did a lot of stupid shit. Dangerous shit. Don’t even remember half of it.
Some of the stories my friends would tell me the next day about what I’d done…
They were pretty fucking embarrassing. I think I got used to kinda laughing it off, y’know?
Maybe it was easier to make myself the butt of the joke so I could beat them to the punch.
Like a self-preservation thing, I guess. So I didn’t have to sit in the shame.”
“So which one were you doing out there? The ham thing or the self-preservation thing?” Worry prickles at the thought that he might be hiding his discomfort with all this. With our arrangement. With me.
He chuckles. “That was just because I’m a big ol’ dork who likes making you laugh.”
I grin and my cheeks heat anew, though this time it has nothing to do with the spicy food. “So, the first one?”
“Yup.” He watches me for a long moment, then seems to snap out of it like he’s shaking off distraction.
I take another sip of water before carefully replacing my red plastic cup on the ring of condensation on the shiny tablecloth.
Miles insists on paying for dinner when we settle up, waving me off when I try to argue. “I got this one.”
“But I’m the one who got you into this whole mess. Shouldn’t I be paying?”
“Nah. Last time we hung out, I got a taste of your world. Saw how the fancy girls live.” When I make a face, he winks.
I can’t fight the way that wink sends a tendril of heat straight to my center.
“But, this time,” he pushes up from the table and reaches for my hand, “you’re in my world.”
An accidental Aladdin moment.
I hesitate for a beat before I take it, then let him lead me out of the tiny restaurant.
“So this is your world, huh?” I ask as we emerge from the narrow alleyway and spill onto the sidewalk. A strong breeze sends my dress whipping at my thighs, and I tuck my scarf around my neck.
“Come on, Caroline. You’d never have gone to some hole-in-the-wall spot like that. Too sketchy. But if you know what to ask for…” He gives me a look—a silent I told you so. “So fucking delicious, right?”
“It really was… very delicious.”
He narrows his eyes and repeats, “So fucking delicious. C’mon. Say it with me. So…”
“So…”
“Fucking…”
A laugh bursts out of me. “Miles, oh my goodness.”
“First it was dang it, now oh my goodness?” His brows quirk together. “You don’t swear, do you?”
I scrunch my nose in apology. “Not often, no. Not unless I’m pretty… worked up, I guess.”
His eyes slip down to my lips before he seems to catch himself and snaps them back up. “’Kay, well, you’re gonna have to elbow me in the ribs or something when I do, ’cause I don’t even hear it come out of my mouth.”
“It doesn’t bother me. Honest.”
He watches me for a moment. “It’s cathartic, you know.”
“What, swearing?”
“Damn fucking right.” He grins and I can’t help but mirror his delight. God, his eyes have no business crinkling at the corners like that.
“So, you think I need to cathart, or what?”
“Maybe.” He looks like he’s got more to say, but something’s holding him back.
“Oh, right.” I nod, folding my arms over my chest. “You think you have a pretty good read on me at this point, huh?”
He lifts a shoulder, noncommittal. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Alright, and what has your spidey-sense figured out?” I tilt my head in amusement.
He stuffs his hands into his pockets, hesitating a moment before he speaks. “Well, if I had to guess, I’d say you’ve been working really hard for a long time to keep other people happy.”
My smile falters.
“Maybe your parents,” he adds. “Maybe that asshole, Fletcher.”
I frown, the truth laid out so plainly that it takes me by surprise.
“And I’d guess,” he continues, watching me carefully, “you’re sick of no one asking what you want. Maybe you’re not even sure, yourself, what that is.”
My eyes fall away from his, losing focus.
“Caroline.” In my blurred peripheral vision, Miles’ feet move closer. “Caroline. Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to— Ah, fuck.”
A beat passes. Then another. And then, before I can react, I’m wrapped in his arms, surrounded by his earthy scent, his warmth, the press of his body. Reflexively, I snake my arms around his waist and cling tight as he rubs my back in rhythmic strokes.
“I’m really sorry.” His voice vibrates low against my temple, his lips so close they heat my skin.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fight off the memory of the last time he held me this close, yet unable to pull away all the same.
Because, God damnit, this feels good. To be held like this—to be seen like this. Even if his words did sting a bit.
How did he do that?
With just a few pithy sentences, he’d held up a mirror to all the uncomfortable truths I’ve been carrying around my entire life.
“You’re right,” I hear myself say against his chest.
“What?” His hands still. “No. I’m a dick who doesn’t know when to shut up. Ignore me, please.”
“But I don’t know what I want.” I finally work up the nerve to pull back, stepping out of his arms before I risk looking up.
“Sometimes I feel like this puppet, just going through the motions, y’know?
Other times I feel like I might explode.
Or scream. And, even if I threw the fit, had the tantrum… what would it achieve?”
His expression pinches with concern, but his silence beckons me on.
“When I first moved here last year, I had this silly idea about starting over. I bought all these new clothes, trying to look less like a senator’s daughter and kind of… lean into my own style a bit more.”
“Did it help?”
“Kind of?” I shrug. “I mean, it’s not like my parents picked out my clothes before; I’m an adult.
But there was pressure to show up a certain way.
Look a certain way. And I guess it never felt like me.
Never felt right. Or good. I just wanted to feel good.
” Tears well in my eyes and I clench my hands into fists, fighting the way putting it into words brings back that suffocating feeling in full force.
“It’s like I’ve lived this neat little life that fits into this neat little box, and all of it has been what other people wanted me to do.
” My shoulders sag. “And I want out. I wanna live my own life, make my own choices, my own mistakes. I wanna have experiences. Be messy. Figure out what I like. What I don’t like. Try stuff.”
“Like sketchy, hole-in-the-wall tacos?” The scarred corner of his lips curls up slightly.
“Yeah! Like… like fucking delicious tacos!”
A broad grin splits his face.
I tilt my head. “Do you see what I’m saying? I’m just at this breaking point, and it all feels like such ridiculous, first-world nonsense to even be upset about it!”
“It’s not.” He shakes his head.
“Yes, it is! I’ve had this incredibly privileged life, and I’m still not happy? What’s wrong with me?”
“Caroline, there’s nothing wrong with you.” He steps toward me, sliding his palms down my arms. “You deserve all of that. To be messy, to make your own decisions, to feel good. Wanting those things is like basic human shit, okay?”
I’m not sure I believe him.
“Listen,” he says. “What’s one thing you’ve never done?” When I hesitate, he squeezes my hands and adds, “One thing you always wanted to do but never felt like you could.”
“What?”
“C’mon! Let’s see if we can knock something off your list.”
“Now? Tonight?” I look around us.
“Yes! A real boyfriend would help you do that stuff, right? Why not let your fake boyfriend take you on a few adventures while you’ve got him?”
“Uh, I… I don’t…” A thousand thoughts careen and crash in my head, jostling to get front and center. I blow out a breath, pulling my hands away from his.
“Just hit me. Spitball style. Don’t overthink it. Just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. Something you wanna do.”
“Skinny dipping!”
Miles’ eyebrows nearly meet his hairline before shocked laughter stutters out. “Skinny dipping.”
“Sorry! I panicked!” I press my palms to my cheeks, confirming they’re on fire.
Did I seriously suggest being naked together?
“It’s October!” He nearly laughs out the words. “The river is fucking glacial right now. Literally, it is glacial, pretty sure.”
“I know! Forget I even said that. Oh my God.” I search up and down the block, as if I might locate a hole I can crawl into.
His amused expression falls. “Wait, seriously, you’ve never been skinny dipping?”
“No!”
He drops his shoulders. “You poor, sheltered girl.”
“Ugh, you don’t know the half of it.” I roll my eyes.
“What do you mean?”
No. I can’t tell him.
Miles doesn’t need to know Fletcher wasn’t exactly adventurous in the bedroom. Not that any of my boyfriends before him were anything to write home about, either.
He studies me cautiously. “Are there other… activities you haven’t tried?”
I stiffen.
Can he somehow hear my thoughts?
He dips his chin and drops his voice low. “Like… naked activities?”
Oh, God. He can definitely hear my thoughts.
“Miles!” I look away, sure my cheeks are bright red. When he holds out his hands in an innocent shrug, I add, “What? You want me to list them for you? Oh my God, this is so embarrassing.”
“There’s a list?”
My shoulders drop. I can’t do this—can’t drag out all the details of my unremarkable sex life—especially in public.
How can I confess to this sexy, tattooed, confident goofball of a man that I’m pretty sure I’m his polar opposite in bed?
Inexperienced. Boring. Awkward. And so unbelievably desperate to be none of those things.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “This feels like an indoor conversation.”
I throw my arms out at my sides. “You think?”
“Then c’mon,” he says, digging out his keys. “Let’s get outta here. Find somewhere to talk in private.” He opens the passenger door of his truck, chucks the folded hoodie out of the way, then gestures for me to get in.
I don’t move. “Where?”
“I know a good place.” He pumps his brows.
“Not exactly reassuring.”
“Aw, where’s your sense of adventure? Thought you wanted to try stuff.” He makes a come hither gesture, a hypnotic kind of delight glittering in his eyes. “C’mon. Let’s go make some mistakes!”
Biting my lip hard, I step past him and climb into the truck. Because… well, fuck it.