Ugly Love: A Novel
Ugly Love: Chapter 21

I worked all weekend, so I haven’t seen or spoken to Miles since Thursday night. I keep telling myself it’s for the best, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it with the way I’ve been letting it eat at me. Tonight is Monday, and it’s the first of three days when Corbin won’t be home and Miles will be. I know he knows Corbin is gone, but based on the way he left things Thursday, I doubt he cares much. I half expected that he would eventually explain if I did something wrong or at least tell me what upset him so much, but the last I got from him was the slam of his bedroom door after he walked away.

I can see why he hasn’t been in a relationship for six years. He’s obviously clueless when it comes to how a guy should treat a girl, which surprises me, because I get these vibes from him that he’s really a decent guy. However, his actions during and after sex seem to contradict his character. It’s as if pieces of the guy he used to be bleed over into the guy he’s trying to be.

If any other man ever treated me like he did, it would be the one and only time. I don’t put up with the things I’ve seen a lot of my friends put up with. However, I replace myself continuing to make excuses for him, like something could actually justify his actions last week.

I’m beginning to fear that maybe I’m not so tough after all.

That fear is immediately confirmed with the skip of my heart as soon as I step off the elevator. There’s a note taped to my apartment door, so I rush to it and pull it down. It’s just a folded piece of paper without anything written on the outside of it. I open it: I need to run an errand. I’ll stop by at seven if you want to come with me. I read the note several times. It’s obviously from him, and it’s obviously for me, but the note reads so incredibly casual that for a second, I begin to doubt that Thursday even happened.

He was there, though. He knows how that night ended between us. He knows I must be upset or angry, but nothing in his note reveals that at all.

I unlock my door and walk inside before I can work myself up to the point of beating on his door to scream at him.

I drop my things once I’m inside my apartment and read the note one more time, dissecting everything from his handwriting down to his selection of words. I wad it up in my hands and throw it toward the kitchen, completely pissed off.

I’m pissed because I already know I’ll be going with him.

I don’t know how not to.

•••

There’s a soft knock on the door at exactly seven o’clock. His punctuality pisses me off, and there’s no reason for it. I have nothing against punctuality. I have a feeling every single thing Miles does tonight is going to piss me off.

I walk to the front door and open it.

He’s standing in the hallway, several feet away. He’s probably closer to his door than to mine, actually. He’s looking down at his feet when I open the door, but he eventually lifts his eyes to meet mine. His hands are tucked away in his jacket pockets again, and he doesn’t lift his head all the way up. I take this as a sign of submission from him, even though it’s more than likely not.

“Want to come?”

His voice invades me. Weakens me. Turns me into liquid again. I nod as I step out into the hall and close the door behind me. I lock it and turn around to face him. He nods his head toward the elevators, silently telling me he’ll follow behind me. I try to read the expression in his eyes, but I should know better.

I walk toward the elevator and press the down button.

He stands next to me, but neither of us speaks. It takes the elevator what seems like years to get to us. When it finally opens, we both breathe a quiet sigh of relief, but as soon as we’re inside and the doors close, neither of us can breathe again.

I can feel him watching me, but I don’t look at him.

I can’t.

I feel stupid. I feel like I want to cry again. Now that I’m here and I have no idea where we’re going, I feel like a fool for allowing him to even get me this far.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is weak, but it’s also surprisingly ­sincere.

I don’t look at him. I don’t even respond.

He takes three steps across the elevator, and then he reaches down beside me and presses the emergency stop button. His finger lingers on the button as he watches me, but I keep my eyes down. My face is level with his chest, but my jaw is tense, and I won’t look up at him.

I won’t.

“Tate, I’m sorry,” he repeats. He’s still not touching me, but he’s invading again. He’s standing so close to me I can feel his breath and him and how much he really is sorry, but I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be forgiving him for. He never promised anything other than sex, and that’s exactly what he gave me.

Sex.

Nothing less and definitely nothing more.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “You didn’t deserve that.”

This time, he touches my chin, lifting my eyes to meet his. The feel of his fingers on my face causes my jaw to grow even more tense. I’m doing everything I can to keep up my armor, because I’m replaceing it hard to fight back my tears.

The same thing I saw in his eyes when he kissed me at his door Thursday night is back. Something unspoken that he wishes he could say, but the only words that come out of his mouth are his apologies.

He winces as though he’s experiencing actual physical pain, and he presses his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry.”

He presses his palms against the elevator wall and leans into me until our chests are touching. My arms are at my sides, and my eyes are closed, and as much as I feel like crying right now, I refuse to do it in front of him. I’m still not sure what he’s apologizing for specifically, but it doesn’t matter, because it sounds like he’s apologizing for everything. For starting something with me that we knew wouldn’t end well. For not being able to open up about his past. For not being able to open up about his future. For ruining me when he walked into his bedroom and slammed his door.

One of his hands wraps around the side of my head, and he pulls me against him. His other hand drops to my back, and he squeezes me, pressing his cheek against the top of my head. “I don’t know what this is, Tate,” he confesses. “But I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

The apology in his voice is enough to make my arms want to hold him. I bring them up and grab the sleeves of his shirt, then press my face into his chest. We stand like this for several minutes, both of us completely lost. Completely new to this.

Completely confused.

He eventually releases me and hits the button to take us to the ground floor. I still haven’t spoken, because I’m not even sure what words to use in this situation. When the elevator doors open, he takes my hand in his and holds it all the way to his car. He opens my door and waits for me to climb inside, then closes it and walks around to his side.

I’ve never been inside his car before.

I’m surprised by the simplicity of it. I know Corbin makes a decent amount of money and usually likes to spend it on nice things.

This car is understated, just like Miles.

He exits the parking garage, and we drive in silence for several miles. I’m tired of the quiet and tired of the curiosity, so the first thing I say to him since he ruined me is, “Where are we going?”

It’s as if my voice makes the awkwardness completely disintegrate, because he exhales like he’s relieved to hear it.

“To the airport,” he says. “Not for work, though. I go there sometimes to watch the planes take off.”

He reaches across the console and takes my hand in his. It’s comforting and scary all at once. His hands are warm, and it makes me want him to hold my entire body in them, but it scares me how much I want that.

It’s completely quiet again until we reach the airport. There are restricted-access signs, but he passes them like he knows exactly where he’s going. We finally pull into a parking lot overlooking the runway.

Several jets are lined up, waiting to take off. He points to the left, and I look, just as one of the planes begins to accelerate. His car fills with the sound of the engines as it zooms past us. We both watch it make its ascent, until the landing gear disappears and the plane is swallowed up by the night.

“You come here a lot?” I ask him while I continue to stare out my window.

He laughs, so naturally, I turn to face him.

“That sounded like a pickup line,” he says, smiling.

His smile makes me smile. His eyes drop to my mouth, and my smile makes his smile disappear.

“Yeah, I do,” he says as he looks out his window again to watch the next jet prepare for takeoff.

I realize in this moment that things aren’t the same between us. Something huge changed, and I can’t tell if it’s good or bad. He brought me here because he wants to talk.

I just don’t know what he wants to talk about.

“Miles,” I say, wanting him to look at me again. He doesn’t.

“It’s not fun,” he says quietly. “This thing we’re doing.”

I don’t like that sentence. I want him to take it back, because it feels like it’s cutting me. But he’s right. “I know,” I say.

“If we don’t stop now, it’ll just get worse.”

I don’t verbally agree with him this time. I know he’s right, but I don’t want to stop. The thought of not being with him again makes my stomach feel hollow. “What did I do to upset you so much?”

He cuts his eyes to mine, and I hardly recognize them from the ice built up behind them. “That was all me, Tate,” he says firmly. “Don’t think for a second that my issues are because of anything you do or don’t do.”

I replace a slight amount of relief from his answer but still have no idea what went wrong with him. We keep our eyes locked, waiting for the other to fill the silence again.

I have no idea what he’s suffered through in the past, but it must have been pretty damn difficult if he can’t move on after six years.

“You act like it’s such a bad thing for us to like each other.”

“Maybe it is,” he says.

I kind of want him to stop talking now, because everything he says is just causing me more pain and making me even more confused. “So you brought me here to call it off?”

He sighs heavily. “I just wanted it to be fun, but . . . I think you might have different expectations from mine. I don’t want to hurt you, and if we keep doing this . . . I will.” He looks out his window again.

I want to hit something, but instead, I run two frustrated hands down my face and fall back heavily against my seat. I’ve never met anyone who can say so little when they speak. He’s definitely perfected the art of evasiveness.

“You have to give me more than that, Miles. A simple explanation, maybe? What the hell happened to you?”

His jaw tightens as firmly as the grip he still has on his steering wheel. “I asked you to do two things for me. Don’t ask about my past, and never expect a future. You’re doing both.”

I nod. “Yes, Miles. You’re right. I am. Because I like you, and I know you like me, and when we’re together, it’s phenomenal, so that’s what normal people do. When they replace someone they’re compatible with, they open up to them. They let them in. They want to be with them. They don’t fuck them against their kitchen table and then walk away and make them feel like complete shit.”

Nothing.

He gives me nothing.

No reaction whatsoever.

He faces forward and starts his car. “You were right,” he says. He puts the car in reverse and prepares to pull out of the parking lot. “It’s a good thing we weren’t friends first. Would have made this a lot harder.”

I turn away from him because I’m embarrassed at how angry his words are making me. I’m embarrassed it’s hurting me like it is, but everything with Miles hurts. It hurts because I know how good our good moments are, and I know how easily the bad moments would go away if he would just stop trying to fight this.

“Tate,” he says with remorse.

I want to rip his voice from his throat.

His hand meets my shoulder, and the car isn’t moving anymore. “Tate, I didn’t mean that.”

I push his hand away. “Don’t,” I say. “Either admit you want me for more than just sex, or take me home.”

He’s quiet. Maybe he’s contemplating my ultimatum.

Admit it, Miles. Admit it. Please.

The car begins moving again.

•••

“What did you expect would happen?” Cap asks, handing me another tissue.

When Miles and I arrived back at the apartment complex, I couldn’t bear riding up that elevator with him, so I took a seat next to Cap and let him go up alone. Unlike the hard exterior I try to show Miles, I completely break down while spilling all the details to Cap, whether he cares to hear them or not.

I wipe my nose again and drop the tissue, adding it to the pile next to me on the floor. “I was being delusional,” I say. “I told myself I could handle it if he never wanted more. I guess I thought if I let him take his time, he’d eventually come around.”

Cap reaches around to a trash can at his side and places it between us so I have somewhere to toss my tissues. “If that boy can’t see what a good thing he could have with you, then he ain’t worth your time.”

I nod, agreeing with him. I do have a lot more important things to do with my time, but for some reason, I feel as if Miles can see what a good thing he has with me. I feel like he wishes he could make this work between us, but something bigger than him or me or us is holding him back. I just wish I knew what it was.

“Have I told you my favorite joke yet?” Cap asks.

I shake my head and grab another tissue from the box in his hands, relieved at the change in subject.

“Knock, knock,” he says.

I didn’t expect his favorite joke to be a knock-knock joke, but I play along. “Who’s there?”

“Interrupting cow,” he says.

“Interrupt—”

“MOO!” he yells loudly, cutting me off.

I stare at him.

Then I laugh.

I laugh harder than I’ve laughed in a long damn time.