He grabs my shoulders. "I'm going to explain."
"Great. Explain it to the door." I jam my key into the lock.
He holds me in place. "Listen."
I reach for the doorknob, but he grabs my wrists. His eyes find mine. There's a desperation to his expression, but I'm sure that's more bullshit.
"You can hold me here all you want. I'm still not going to listen," I say.
"I'm not leaving until I explain this."
I consider kicking him. A swift knee to the balls would do wonders to push him off. But I can't bring myself to put him out of commission.
I fight his grip. "Let me go."
He shifts, opens the door, and steps inside. He's in my apartment, like I'm the one who owes him something.
He pulls the door wider. "You coming in?"
"What if I don't?"
"I'll have to chase you wherever you go."
"That sounds annoying."
He motions for me to come inside. "You could save yourself some time here."
I bite my lip. Fine. It might be amusing to see him try and explain his way out of this.
I step inside.
Miles slams the door shut and presses me against it. "Sit down and listen."
"Hard to sit when you're pinning me to the wall." I close my eyes. I'm not going down this road again.
"Fair enough." Miles takes a tiny step back. "But I'm not leaving until we discuss this."
"Did the definition of discuss change recently? ‘Cause, last time I checked, it involves two people exchanging opinions, not one person sitting down and listening."
"Meg."
"Miles." I do sit down, but I'm not necessarily going to listen. "You better make this good. I have to study."
He sighs. "I knew this would happen."
"You mean that lying would blow up in your face—how the hell did you guess that one?"
"That you'd overreact to my recovery."
Acid churns in my stomach. "Fuck you."
"I almost told you that night in Malibu, but you were so angry at the world. I couldn't add any more to that."
I stare at the window. There's nothing to see except the dark blue sky. "Take responsibility for your decisions. You didn't tell me because you wanted to fuck me again."
"I could have fucked you right there."
"You promised honesty, and you kept this a secret."
"I didn't want to upset you."
"Well, you screwed that up. I'm upset."
He has no smart-ass response.
I tug at the fabric of my jeans. "You don't even respect me enough to admit you lied."
"It's not like that."
"Then look me in the eyes and apologize for keeping this from me."
"You would’ve ended things."
"That's not an apology." I turn away from him. "You should go."
"Meg—"
"You don't trust me. I don't trust you." My heart is in my throat. I take a deep breath, anything to keep my voice steady. "What the hell are we doing this for?"
His eyes turn towards mine. "I couldn't tell you. It still hurt too much." He slides his hands into his pockets.
"I'm sorry, Miles, but...you were so clear yesterday. Today, too. I'm 'some girl' to you. And you want to deal with everything alone. Where the hell is there room for me in that?"
He sighs. "I guess you're right."
My stomach drops. He's not fighting this. Not at all. That's how little I mean to him.
Miles lowers his voice. "We should have ended this earlier. Now, feelings are getting involved."
"Excuse you?"
"Tom was right. The way you're looking at me—"
"Fuck off." I shift so I'm staring right into his eyes. "Feelings are getting involved? Feelings have been involved. What the hell do you call holding me all night? Or promising I can tell you anything? You met my parents. You promised you cared about me. You stared into my eyes and kissed me like you loved me. What the hell do you call that?"
"I didn't mean to lead you on."
He's still so fucking calm.
"Yes, you did," I say. "You get off on me caring about you."
"Meg."
"Do you love me?"
His lips curl into a frown. "I told you when this started—I don't do relationships."
"No, you just treat me like your girlfriend and act like my boyfriend and expect me to know the fucking difference!" I stare through him the way he stares through me. "It doesn't matter. You don't respect me. You throw away my feelings. You lie right to my face. You're nothing to me."
He folds his arms.
"I'm not putting up with it anymore. Go. Away. Now."
"Is that really what you want?"
My breath is choppy, but I fight it. This is the last thing I need to get out. "Yes."
"Fine." He pulls the door open and steps into the hallway.
And he's gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I spend the weekend staring at my textbooks. I make a hundred flash cards and go through them a hundred times. I rewrite all my notes with my favorite blue pen.
I absorb nothing.
I try to sleep, but whenever I close my eyes, I see Miles. I see that look on his face, that desperation and pain that he's so sure he wants to handle alone. He lied to my face, and he's still the only thing I can think about.
This is the end. Miles and I are over, forever, the end. Hell, we were never anything worth discussing. Not really.
It's better this way. He can go bullshit some other girl. I can focus all my attention on medical school. A guy would only get in the way.
Miles would only get in the way.
***
"Honey, you look like hell." Kara plops in the seat next to mine. "But you know I've got you covered."
She pulls a can of green tea out of her purse. I wave it away. Class is going to start in five minutes, and I need every ounce of attention I have for the lecture.
She insists. "You need the caffeine."
"I don't want it."
She pops it open, takes a sip, and lets out a dramatic sigh of pleasure. "That really hits the spot."
"I know what you're doing."
"Me? Doing? I've never done anything in my life." She takes another sip. Sighs another dramatic sigh. "Did you want some?"
"No."
She pulls another can of tea from her purse and sets it on my desk. "Just in case."
I press the can against my chest. The aluminum is so cold, and I've been hot all weekend. I don't know if it's anger, frustration, or the damn flu.
"I'm guessing your parents were difficult," she says.
"They put Rosie's room in storage."
"That sucks."
"And her trophies. The family pictures. It's all gone. Everything. It's like being in some stranger's house with some stranger's parents." I pop open the can and take a greedy sip. I've learned plenty about caffeine—it takes twenty minutes to absorb into the bloodstream—but I feel like it's going straight to my brain. "Thanks. How was your weekend?"
"Saw my mom. Ate some food. Nothing worth discussing." A frown creeps onto her face.
There's something worth discussing. “We could talk about it anyway.”
Kara turns to me. She's about to say something when Professor Rivers walks into the room. All chatter ceases.
She whispers, "I’d rather talk about you and Miles."
I nod to the professor.
Kara shakes her head. She opens her notebook and scribbles a message. In purple.
Something happened, something bad. I can tell from the look on your face. You don’t have to pretend you’re fine.
Whatever it was, you don't have to deal with it yourself. I want to help, even if that means watching Star Wars fifty times.
I nod and mouth thank you. Kara raises her eyebrows, a real talk to me now dammit kind of look.
I motion to the professor.
"This is an elective for you," she says.
"And I need to maintain a
good GPA."
"Your senior year GPA won't factor into your med school apps."
"If I apply this year," I say.
"Since when are you even considering a gap year?"
The guy sitting next to me slaps my desk. He leans in towards Kara and me. "Could you two please shut up?"
Kara flips him off. I suppress a smile. She really is a great friend.
She picks up her pen and scribbles something else.
You can't keep dodging a conversation with me. What are you hiding from?
"Nothing," I say.
"Hey! Quiet," the guy says.
Kara turns the page, writes Fuck You, and holds it up to the guy.
"Want me to call Professor Rivers?"
She rolls her eyes.
"We can talk after class," I say.
"Then, after class, you say you need to study, and you disappear, and you cancel our brunch date to avoid this damn conversation."
"I won't do that."
The guy leans in. "Would you please shut your big mouths?"
Kara snaps. "Hey! My best friend and I are going through something. So why don't you mind your own damn business?"
A few students around us turn. Even the professor notices. His eyes go straight to Kara.
"I know it's tough to come back after a break, but let's get our eyes on the screen, huh?" He presses a button to change to the next slide.
Kara scribbles something else on her paper.
Tell me what the hell is going on in your life. I'm not going to let this relationship go sour like yours and Rosie's did.
"Don't bring her into this," I whisper.
Kara tears a sheet of paper from her notebook. She fishes through her bag, pulls out a pen, and slams it on my desk.
Write it down if you have to, but tell me why you look like hell. It's not just about your parents and your sister. It's more than that.
She mouths now.
I scribble on the paper. I don't want to talk about it.
She writes: At least tell me what happened with Miles.
Fine. I write two words: It's over.
"More than that," she whispers.
"That's it."
"That's obviously not it, but, fine. This is the friendship you want to have—that's what we'll have."
The annoying guy leans in, but she cuts him off.
"I'm fucking leaving, okay?" Kara shoves her things into her bag, pushes out of her seat, and makes for the door.
She's leaving ten minutes into class.
Screw it. I shove my stuff into my bag and follow Kara out the door.
There are a few students in the hallway, staring at their books, but it's otherwise empty.
I follow Kara towards the front door of the building. "I don't want to talk about Miles, but we can still talk about other stuff."
She pushes the door open and plops on the nearest bench.
I sit next to her, resting my head on her shoulder. "I don't want to fight."
"Me either." She says.
"I'm sorry I've been distant."
"It's okay," she says. "I have a lot of stuff to deal with the next two weeks. Then it's finals. We can meet up after that and watch some dumb movie and eat too much popcorn." Kara shifts so she's looking at me. "If you want to talk, I'm here. Any time, day or night, okay?"
I nod an okay.
"Is there any chance you're going to call me?"
"It's possible."
Kara squeezes me. "Promise anyway."
"I promise."
***
Between school and work, I stay busy. No Sunday brunch. No Friday night movies. I only see Kara in our shared class. In an attempt to make up for our last performance, we keep our heads down and our eyes on our notes.
Miles doesn't call, text, or email. He doesn't write and release another song about me. He is still gorgeous, and calm, and unaffected.
I mean to send my first med school app. Harvard. I make a profile, fill in my test scores, and stare helplessly at the blank space where my essay is supposed to go.
I want to be a doctor. I have no doubt about that. But I can't see myself on the other side of the country.
Even since I got my MCAT results, I've wanted to apply to schools far, far away. I figured I was running to my future in some glamorous city like Boston or New York.
But I'm not running to something. I'm running away from it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
By the weekend, my concentration is back. I spend all day Saturday studying. It's about time for a break when there's a knock on the door.
My heart thuds against my chest. For a split second, I am face to face with that awful feeling—hope. I push it away. There's no way it's Miles.
I get up and open the door. It's Kara.
She brandishes a takeout bag. "I brought sushi. I know it's not as good as a hot, rock-star boyfriend, but there are about four orders of salmon sashimi." She sets the bag on the counter and gets to work on fixing two plates.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
"You're my best friend. I need a break. You're moping. Did you eat dinner?"
"It's still early."
"It's almost ten. She hands me a can of green tea. "You have soy sauce?"
"In the fridge."
She grabs it and sets it between the plates. "Eat."
"Shouldn't we talk or something?" I ask.
"You want to talk about Miles?"
I squeeze a piece of salmon sashimi with my chopsticks. "Not really."
"Do you want to think about him?"
"Never again."
She smiles. "I was hoping you'd say that." She grabs a fork and stabs a California roll. "Because I have the perfect way to turn off your brain cells. Alcohol optional."
"I'm terrified."
"You'll like it. Promise."
"Are you going to tell me?"
"Agree to do it first." She stares me right in the eyes. "You need to feel better."
I take a deep breath. I really do trust Kara, and I really don’t want to think about Miles. "Okay."
Her eyes light up. "We're going dancing."
"I hate dancing."
"You think you hate dancing because you sit in the corner by yourself." She takes a long sip of her tea. "But tonight, you're going to grab the hottest guy you can find, and you’re going to get back in touch with what your body wants."
"I'm not screwing some random guy."
"Just dancing. It's a great release."
"I don't want a stranger touching me," I say.
"Then dance with me." She scoops sushi onto my plate, motioning for me to eat. "But I'm not leaving you alone tonight. You need to let off some steam, and I need to make sure my best friend is okay."
"Drew didn't take my place?"
"In his dreams."
***
The club is packed to the brim. There must be two hundred people on the dance floor. It's some mix of tourists and locals, celebrities and ordinary people, the barely legal and the pushing forty. Everyone looks amazing. The guys are in suits. The women are in tight cocktail dresses and shiny heels. They reflect every bit of the blue-purple lighting.
Kara locks arms with me. "Let's start with a drink. If you want."
My shoulders tense. I roll them back, but it does nothing to relax them. Deep breath. I'm twenty-one. Drinking is normal. Fun. Maybe the only way I'll actually allow myself to dance with a stranger. "Yeah. I do."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
Kara leans over the bar, squeezing her arms together to highlight her cleavage. The bartender notices instantly.
"What are you drinking?" He stares at her chest.
"A Paloma for my friend. Actually, two Palomas." She turns to me. "It's like a grapefruit margarita. You'll adore it."
My heart flutters. "Okay."
I scan the room. There's a VIP area in one corner. I can just make out a few famous faces—a singer known for her outlandish costumes and the stars of this a
wful teen soap I totally never, ever watched.
"Here you go, ladies." The bartender offers up our drinks.
Kara pays and she drags me to a velvet booth. It's plush and soft and there's a curtain in front. I pull the curtain closed, and suddenly we're hidden from view. It goes to just past our knees and it blocks out the rest of the club.
They're sex curtains.
Kara pulls the curtain wide open. "Don't get any ideas." She sips her frothy pink drink. "Shit, you really are going to love this."
I take a sip. It's amazing—tart and sweet with the faint taste of alcohol. Tequila, I think. My face flushes, but I already feel more relaxed.
"I want fifty of these," I say.
"Going from zero to drunk pretty fast there." She slides her arm around my shoulder. "But I get it. You don't want to think about that asshole, but not all your brain cells are cooperating."
"They can either assimilate or be destroyed."
Kara laughs. "I missed this Meg."
"Me too."
She downs half her drink. She looks at me like she's reading a gauge. "I see a few hot guys, and they look lonely. Want to fix that?"
I polish off my drink, stand, and smooth my dress. "Well, we can't have lonely, hot guys."
We move to the dance floor.
There's barely any wiggle room. I've never been a big dancer, but there's something intoxicating about the thumping music and the soft blue-purple lighting. I throw my arms over my head and sway my hips in time with the beat.
Kara laughs. She drags me further into the fray, and we dance like we're the only two people here. I look around the club. It's built just like the place where Sinful Serenade had their secret show, only with a smaller stage and more room to sit.
The music fades into the next song. I circle my hips and roll my shoulders. Usually, I feel so insecure about my dancing. But tonight...anything goes.
A cute guy comes up to me. He's wearing a gray suit, and he's a little stiff. A total Business Guy. He motions as if to ask me to dance. I look back to Kara. She mouths go for it. So I do.
I press my back against his chest. He grabs my hips, holding my body against his. I close my eyes, trying to inhale the sensation, but there's nothing there. It doesn't hold a candle to Miles.
I turn around so I'm facing Business Guy. He's cute. Nice eyes, clean haircut. I slide my arms around his shoulders. He moves his hands to my waist.
He really is handsome. And he smells good. His body is hard. Not his cock—I'm not that close—but his arms and his chest.
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