Miles shakes his head. He doesn't believe me. He thinks I'm hung up on this asshole who ruined my sister's life. Miles probably thinks that I'm in love with Jared, that he's the reason I don't want a relationship.
"I never loved him. I barely know him. He was my sister's boyfriend and he...he ruined her life."
"So call her. Let her decide what to do with him."
My heart sinks. "She died a few months ago."
"Oh, fuck." He turns to me, his eyes wide with concern.
This isn't part of our deal. He's not supposed to be concerned about me, and I'm not supposed to let him take care of me.
"What happened?" His voice is so soft. It's the sweet Miles, the one who wrote all those songs.
"She overdosed."
"An accident?"
"Yeah." I press my fingers together. This is too close, too personal. I need to get up, to get out of here, to be anywhere else. Jared doesn't matter. He's nothing. Just another loser who will dig his own grave. "Just put the wallet in the lost and found, okay? I want to go home."
"Okay. Where is that?"
"Give it to me. I'll do it."
Miles pulls the wallet from his pocket and hands it to me. I stare at the sky. There are big, gray clouds covering the moon. The stars are tiny and dull, like they can't bother to shine tonight.
"Meg." His voice is so soft.
"I'm fine." I take a deep breath, but it's jagged. My throat is already sore. I blink away a tear. I'm not crying in front of him. No way in a thousand years.
"I'll take you home."
"No." I wipe my eyes. I'm not crying. "I'm going to say I found this out here. And then we're going out."
I march into the room, drop off the wallet, and march back to Miles.
He's standing there with puppy dog eyes, like he's desperate to do anything to make this hurt less.
"Come here." It's barely a whisper.
But I stay put. This isn't what we're doing. I've already said too much. He's already seen too much, too deep inside me.
"Can we go?" I ask.
He shakes his head, wraps his arms around me, and squeezes me tightly. I want to push him off, to bang on his chest until he releases me.
But I can't. It's too easy to soak in the feeling of his body pressed against mine.
I take another ragged breath. I dig my nail into the pad of my thumb. I need something concrete I can feel besides how much this still hurts.
I'm not going to cry in front of Miles. Not even if this is some other version of Miles, the one who hurts deep inside, who writes songs about the unspeakable agony of losing everything that matters.
After a few more breaths, I'm calm enough to release him. I pull back, slowly shaking him off. Cold hits me. It's brutal and sudden, like I'm shedding my favorite coat to step into a snowstorm.
He releases me, but his eyes stay glued to mine. "You look miserable."
I shake my head. "I'm fine."
His eyes turn to the street. "Don't make me call you on our 'no lies' clause."
"Can we please get out of here?"
He says nothing.
I need to turn the mood, to change him back to the other Miles. At least I know what that Miles wants. I make my voice light. "I'll go crazy if I have to make conversation with you for one more minute."
He smirks but doesn't laugh. He's not quite back to snappy, sarcastic Miles. Not yet.
But he does nod. He wraps his hand around my wrist and leads me to his car. Or the car he borrowed from one of his band mates.
I settle into the passenger seat. I struggle to find a position that doesn't expose my legs all the way up to my underwear.
Miles slides the key into the ignition, but he doesn't turn it.
He shifts, leaning towards me. "You're not as good at pretending you're okay as you think you are."
"That's not really your concern."
"I'm not going to fuck you out of your misery." His lips curl into a smile. "I know. In my dreams, right?"
I nod.
"All this dreaming. I must be pretty fucking desperate." He brushes my knee. "Listen, Meg—"
"If the next words out of your mouth aren't something about how irresistible I am, you can save your breath."
"You're painfully irresistible." He trails his fingertips up my thigh. "I was thinking about fucking you the entire drive here." His eyes find mine. "Almost crashed this damn car."
Well, that certainly shut me up. I nod like I'm used to guys telling me how badly they want me.
Miles's voice gets low. Breathy. "I was planning on driving you to Malibu and fucking you in the backseat."
"The passenger seat isn't good enough?"
He smirks. "Only for round two." His hand slides over my thigh, back to my knee. "But I'm not going to be your human distraction." He leans back into his seat. "I don't have that kind of sex. No matter how badly I want to fuck someone."
I fight a sigh. Miles won't have sex with me, fine. I have other ways of satisfying myself without his soft lips or his strong hands.
It won't be nearly as fun, but then it's not looking like this evening is going to be very fun.
He turns the key. "Don't sulk over it."
"You're the one who invited me out."
"We're out. If you want to spend the night pouting over not getting in my pants, I’ll drive you home."
I pull the seatbelt over my chest. "What's the alternative?"
"I take you to Malibu. We have a conversation under the stars."
"I'm not really in the mood to talk."
He laughs. "You don’t say."
I take a deep breath. I am irritable. I can't stand how mixed up I feel around Miles, how close I am to clinging to him and crying my heart out.
"Can we stop for something to eat?"
"Your wish is my command."
He turns the key and, mercifully, the radio fills the car with noise.
This is going to be a long night.
CHAPTER TEN
The only place open is a horribly expensive organic store. I feel weird about letting Miles buy my sashimi bowl and green tea, but I let him. Now that touching him is off the table, I need some other way to stay awake.
Just to screw with me, he buys strawberries and a bottle of chocolate syrup. I'm not that inexperienced. I know what people do with chocolate syrup, and I can't help my mind from filling with ideas about doing those things with Miles.
In the car, I do my best to get comfortable. It's a long drive to Malibu, and there's almost no space between us. I press my back into the leather seat and turn the volume on the radio as high as it will go. Something to spare me from trying to form a coherent thought.
Miles slides the knob until the music is just low enough for a conversation. Thankfully, he doesn't attempt one. His attention stays on the road. He drives fast. Really fast. The city zips past us. Then we’re on Pacific Coast Highway and we’re surrounded by ocean and sky.
I open the moon roof and watch the stars fly overhead. A few break through the cloud cover, shining with a brilliant glow.
I close my eyes and soak in the feeling of air rushing over my skin. There's something about being next to Miles. I feel so exposed and safe at the same time. It's like nothing outside this car, not even my memories of Rosie, can hurt me.
"You know, when I mentioned conversation, I was assuming you'd also make an effort." His voice is light, like he's joking.
Okay. Joking I can do. "Conversation isn't my strong suit."
"I can tell."
"Or yours."
He laughs. "We both know my strong suit. What's yours?"
I'm good at studying. At this point, it's probably my greatest skill. Not very useful outside of school, but I have another four years of that ahead of me.
Still, we're almost flirting. And flirting might convince Miles I want him as more than a distraction.
"Spades," I say.
"How the hell do you come up with spades?"
I try to cob
ble together a joke, but the pieces don't come together. "Well, it's obviously not hearts."
"And not comedy."
I flip him off.
He laughs. "You're good at driving me out of my mind."
"In what way?"
"You mean besides how fucking crazy I go thinking about touching you again?"
I take a deep breath. "Don't tease me if you're going to stick to that ridiculous no sex tonight declaration."
"Not that you care?"
"Whatever."
He stops at a light. The first light in ages. It changes to green, and we turn off the main road into an empty beach parking lot. There's a sign with posted hours:six a.m. to ten p.m. It's past eleven, but that isn't about to stop Miles. He was ready to burn a guy's house down an hour ago.
"It's flattering," he says. "That it upsets you so much."
He parks the car and gets a blanket out of the trunk. Maybe that was his original plan for the night—sex on the beach under the stars.
I slip out of my shoes and dig my feet into the sand. It's cool and ever so slightly rough. The water is only a few hundred feet away. The waves crash with a quiet roar. I can smell the salt. I can taste it.
Miles lays the blanket next to a lifeguard stand and places our bounty of snacks on top of it. "I figured you'd rather not eat in the car."
"Thanks."
"You cold?"
"Only if you're about to offer me your shirt."
"Leather jacket’s in the backseat."
The same backseat where he was going to fuck me. Not that it matters. I shake my head, sit down, and focus on my dinner. I'm so hungry that even grocery store sashimi tastes good. I eat quickly, grateful for the reprieve from attempting a conversation.
We sit for a few minutes. Miles sucks on a strawberry, his eyes on the sky.
He breaks the silence. "We are friends. You can talk to me."
"I'm not interested."
"Pretty sure I should take offense to that."
I stab a piece of tuna with my fork. "Then take offense. But it's not something I want to talk about. And certainly not with you." I stuff the fish into my mouth. I'm sure it's ugly and unladylike, but I don't care. "You said, ‘I won't be the shoulder you cry on.’ Well, you're not going to be the shoulder I cry on, either."
His voice gets low. "You're drowning in something. You don't have to tell me what it is, but I'm not going to watch without throwing a life vest."
Great. Sensitive Miles is out and he's speaking in metaphors. I don't need a life vest, and I certainly don't need his life vest.
"Thank you for the sentiment. But I'm fine. My sister died three months ago. I still miss her sometimes, but it's nothing out of the ordinary."
"She was a drug addict, wasn't she?"
I scowl. I hate thinking of Rosie like that, but she was a drug addict at that point. "That's not any of your business."
"If it affects our relationship, it is."
"What relationship is that? We've had sex and breakfast." I finish my food and drop my fork in the bowl.
There's a tightness in my chest. I don't want to discuss this with Miles. I don't want to discuss this with anyone. I thought we were on the same page.
I take a deep breath. I can convince him it's nothing. "My sister, Rosie, starting doing drugs behind my back. It went on for about a year. She lied the whole time, and I looked the other way, because I didn't want to believe it was possible. I was studying for the MCAT, and I didn't have any spare energy to worry about her."
"Why are you trying to convince me you’re over it?”
“I’m not.”
“You’ll never be over it. Not really.”
I don’t need his advice. "Whoever you are, can you bring back the Miles I met last month?"
"Even that guy would notice how upset you are."
"Fine. I'm upset. You did your friend duty and asked what was wrong. I did my friend duty and gave you the details. Can we close the book on this conversation?"
"No."
"Then take me home."
He stares at me.
“Is there a reason why you’re cross-examining me.”
He scoots closer. "It's the decent thing to do."
"You never struck me as a decent guy."
He shrugs. "You're lucky I don't offend easily."
"I can try harder to offend."
He rests his hand on mine. There's something in his eyes. He's uncertain. It's the first time I've seen Miles anything but confident.
"It's not something I talk about," I say. "It's not personal."
He shifts onto his back, his eyes on the stars. "Fine. But I'm still not having sex with you tonight."
***
We spend a while on the sand, no sounds except the waves crashing into the beach. No questions about my sister, no picking me apart, no pressure to share my secrets.
I close my eyes and sink into the ground. There's this breeze on my arms. It's gentle but it's damn cold, especially in my airy chiffon top. I can't bring myself wrap my arms around Miles. I don't want him to know how badly I need the comfort. Everything that happened with Rosie hurts. Every time I see someone with a drink and smile, every time I hear her name, every time I find one of her things—it hurts somewhere so deep I can't breathe.
Minutes pass. Maybe hours. I'm aware of nothing except the waves, the breeze, and Miles's breath. He pulls me closer, wrapping his arm around me and stroking my hair. This isn't the Miles I saw fucking some girl at a party. It's not the guy who teased me about being a virgin. It's the guy who wrote In Pieces, the one who knows what it feels like to lose everything that matters.
Where does this Miles goes when smug Miles comes out to play? It hardly seems possible that one person could be so cocky and so sweet all at once.
I try to focus on the stars, something to center me and keep my mind from drifting to places it shouldn't go. It doesn't work. I can't help but imagine Miles as my boyfriend. I don't want a boyfriend. He doesn't do boyfriend. It should be a perfect arrangement. Only he's acting so sweet, like he's going to put the pieces of my heart back together for the millionth time.
My eyes close again. I sink into Miles, allowing myself to soak up the comfort. Another long stretch of time passes.
He taps me on the shoulder and whispers, "are you asleep?"
I keep my mouth shut.
He lifts me, taking me into his arms and carrying me over the sand. Instead of objecting, I lean into his body. My ear is against his chest, and I can hear his steady heartbeat. Whatever this is, I need it tonight.
He lays me in the passenger seat and presses his lips against my cheek. He looks at me like he knows I'm awake. "I was considering fucking you in that lifeguard stand."
Asshole.
He slides into the driver’s seat. "My uncle's place is nearby, but he's not around. I'm going to take you there."
I close my eyes and listen to the air rushing through the moon roof. I feel nothing except the soft vibrations of the car. Then Miles's arms are around me. His hands are pressed into my thigh, and my head is against his shoulders. It's like my body fits into his perfectly, even more perfectly than it did when we were having sex.
He carries me inside the house, up the stairs, into a bedroom. He lays me on a bed and presses his lips against my forehead.
"Goodnight, Meg."
Then he's gone, and I'm alone in some stranger's bed with almost no hope for a peaceful night of sleep.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I wake up with an uneasy feeling. I am still in a stranger's house, in a stranger's bed, alone.
This must be a guest room. It's decorated well but without any real personal touches. The view is amazing—a long stretch of the deep blue Pacific Ocean and the backyard just below the window. It's straight off a postcard. Aqua pool. Lush garden. Bright yellow sun.
And there's Miles, lying on a lounge chair in his boxers, paperback book in his hands. He's not so much reading as staring off into space with a torture
d expression.
I know almost nothing about the Miles behind the sharp wit. He was trying to pry me apart last night. Maybe it wasn't on purpose, but he wanted more from me. He wanted to hear about Rosie and all the other things that still hurt.
I replay his lyrics in my head. There's something torturing him, too, something deep inside him that still hurts. I should run far away—the last thing I need is to fall for a guy with baggage—but I'm stuck in place. I want to pry him apart, look at all the places he hurts, and put him back together.
I find the bathroom. There's a box of disposable toothbrushes under the counter. I try to think up an explanation besides a harem of equally disposable women. Nothing comes.
The rest of the house is just as beautiful as its surroundings. Everything is clean, bright, and beige. The rooms are huge, the ceilings are high, the furniture is understated. It’s like the mansion version of an Apple store. There's something untouchable about this place, like no one lives here. And there's Miles, in the backyard, looking just as untouchable as the clean glass table.
He stirs as I pull the sliding door open. His eyes find mine.
There's a weight in my chest. I shouldn't want so badly to ask how he feels.
He pushes off the seat and stretches his arms over his head. His boxers slide down his stomach ever so slightly. They're an inch above his...
"Good morning." He steps inside. "You must’ve slept well. It's almost noon."
"You should’ve woken me."
He slides his hand around my waist. "I did. You had some choice words about it."
"Like asking what the hell you're doing inviting me for sex then taking me to some strange house to sleep."
"Similar, but with a lot more insults and profanity." His lips curl into a smile. "You're cute when you swear."
How is it possible I don't remember any of this? I must’ve been half asleep. I only hope I gave Miles the lecture he really deserves. I take a deep breath. "Thank you."
His eyes find mine. His expression shifts. Not playful or sarcastic but serious. Like he really is worried about me. "Are you okay?"
Cool, calm, composed. That's what he does, so that's what I'll do. "You wrote that song. You know what it's like to lose everything that matters to you."
He nods.
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