Ugly Love: A Novel
Ugly Love: Chapter 6

Six years earlier

We eat dinner, but it’s awkward.

Lisa and Dad try to include us in the conversation, but neither of us is in the mood to talk. We stare at our plates. We push around the food with our forks.

We don’t want to eat.

Dad asks Lisa if she wants to go sit out back.

Lisa says yes.

Lisa asks Rachel to help me clear the table.

Rachel says okay.

We take the plates to the kitchen.

We’re quiet.

Rachel leans against the counter while I load the dishwasher. She watches me do my best to ignore her. She doesn’t realize she’s everywhere. She’s in everything. Every single thing has just become Rachel.

It’s consuming me.

My thoughts aren’t thoughts anymore.

My thoughts are Rachel.

I can’t fall in love with you, Rachel.

I look at the sink. I want to look at Rachel.

I breathe in air. I want to breathe in Rachel.

I close my eyes. I only see Rachel.

I wash my hands. I want to touch Rachel.

I dry my hands on a towel before turning around to face her. Her hands are gripping the counter behind her. Mine are folded across my chest.

“They’re the worst parents in the world,” she whispers.

Her voice cracks.

My heart cracks.

“Despicable,” I say to her.

She laughs.

I’m not supposed to fall in love with your laugh, Rachel.

She sighs. I fall in love with that, too.

“How long have they been seeing each other?” I ask her.

She’ll be honest.

She shrugs. “About a year. It’s been long-distance until she moved us here to be closer to him.”

I feel my mother’s heart breaking.

We hate him.

“A year?” I ask. “Are you sure?”

She nods.

She doesn’t know about my mother. I can tell.

“Rachel?”

I say her name out loud, just like I’ve wanted to do since the second I met her.

She continues to look directly at me. She swallows, then breathes out a shallow “Yeah?”

I step toward her.

Her body reacts. She stands taller but not by much. She breathes heavier but not by much. Her cheeks grow redder but not by much.

It’s all just enough.

My hand fits her waist. My eyes search hers.

They don’t tell me no, so I do.

When my lips touch hers, it’s so many things. It’s good and bad and right and wrong and

revenge.

She inhales, stealing some of my breaths. I breathe into her, giving her more. Our tongues touch and our guilt intertwines and my fingers slide through the hair God made specifically for her.

My new favorite flavor is Rachel.

My new favorite thing is Rachel.

I want Rachel for my birthday. I want Rachel for Christmas. I want Rachel for graduation.

Rachel, Rachel, Rachel.

I’m gonna fall in love with you anyway, Rachel.

The back door opens.

I release Rachel.

She releases me but only physically. I can still feel her in every other way.

I look away from her, but everything is still Rachel.

Lisa walks into the kitchen. She looks happy.

She has a right to be happy. She’s not the one who died.

Lisa tells Rachel it’s time to go.

I tell them both good-bye, but my words are only for Rachel. She knows this.

I finish the dishes.

I tell my father Lisa was nice.

I don’t tell him I hate him yet. Maybe I never will. I don’t know what good it would do to let him know that I don’t see him the same way anymore.

Now he’s just . . . normal. Human.

Maybe that’s the rite of passage before you become a man—realizing your father doesn’t have life figured out any more than you do.

I go to my room. I take out my phone, and I text Rachel.

Me: What do we do about tomorrow night?

Rachel: We lie to them?

Me: Can you meet me at seven?

Rachel: Yes.

Me: Rachel?

Rachel: Yeah?

Me: Good night.

Rachel: Good night, Miles.

I turn off my phone, because I want that to be the last text I receive for the night. I close my eyes.

I’m falling, Rachel.