I know I should have some sort of reaction to everything he just said, but I'm still processing his words. Every single one of his admissions should be a red flag, since they were all also coupled with the hard truth that he doesn't plan on loving me or having a relationship with me, but the red flag doesn't rise.
The green one does.
"Is it me specifically you don't want to love, or is it love in general you don't want to experience?"
He pulls me away from his chest so he can look at me while he answers my question. "It's love in general I don't want, Tate. Ever. It's you specifically that I just . . . want."
I fall in and out and back in love with that answer.
I'm so screwed up. Everything he says should send me running, but instead, it makes me want to wrap my arms around him and give him whatever it is he's willing to take from me. I'm lying to him, and I'm lying to myself, and I'm not doing either of us any good, but I can't stop the words that come out of my mouth.
"I can handle this as long as it stays simple," I tell him. "When you pull the shit you pulled a few weeks ago by walking away and slamming your door? That's not keeping it simple, Miles. Things like that make it complicated."
He nods, contemplating what I've said. "Simple," he says, rolling the word around in his mouth. "If you can do simple, I can do simple."
"Good," I say. "And when it becomes too hard for either of us, we'll end it for good."
"I'm not worried about it becoming too hard for me," he says. "I'm worried about it becoming too hard for you."
I'm worried about me, too, Miles. But I want the here and now with you a whole lot more than I care about how it will affect me in the end.
With that thought, I suddenly figure out what my one rule is. He's had his boundaries this entire time, protecting himself from the vulnerability that I've been subjected to.
"I think I finally have my one rule," I say. He looks at me and raises a brow, waiting for me to talk. "Don't give me false hope for a future," I say. "Especially if you know in your heart we'll never have one."
His posture immediately stiffens. "Have I done that?" he asks, genuinely concerned. "Have I given you false hope before?"
Yes. About thirty minutes ago, when you looked me in the eyes the entire time you were inside me.
"No," I say quickly. "Just make sure you don't do or say things that would make me believe otherwise. As long as we both see this for what it is, I think we'll be fine."
He stares at me silently for a while, studying me. Evaluating my words. "I can't tell if you're really mature for your age or really delusional."
I shrug, guarding my delusions deep inside my chest. "An unhealthy mixture of both, I'm sure."
He presses his lips against the side of my head. "This feels really fucked up to say out loud, but I promise I won't give you hope for us, Tate."
My heart frowns at his words, but my face forces a smile. "Good," I say. "You have serious issues that kind of freak me out, and I'd much rather fall in love with an emotionally stable man someday."
He laughs. Probably because he knows the odds of finding someone who can put up with this kind of relationship, if you can even call it that, are extremely low. Yet somehow, the one girl who might be fine with it just happened to move in across the hall from him. And he actually likes her.
You like me, Miles Archer.
*
"Corbin found out," I say as I take what has become my usual seat next to Cap.
"Uh-oh," he says. "Is the boy still alive?"
I nod. "For now. Not sure how long that'll last, though."
The doors to the lobby open, and I watch Dillon make his way inside. He pulls a hat off his head and shakes rain out of it as he walks toward the elevator.
"Sometimes I wish the flights I send up would crash," Cap says, eyeing Dillon.
I guess Cap doesn't like Dillon, either. I'm beginning to feel a little bad for Dillon.
He spots us just before he reaches the elevators. Cap is moving to press the up button, but Dillon reaches it before him. "I'm pretty capable of fetching my own elevator, old man," he says.
I vaguely remember having a brief thought ten seconds ago about Dillon and how I felt sorry for him. I take that thought back now.
Dillon looks at me and winks. "What you doing, Tate?"
"Washing elephants," I say with a straight face.
Dillon shoots me a confused look, not at all understanding my random response.
"If you don't want a sarcastic answer," Cap says to him, "don't ask a stupid question."
The elevator doors open, and Dillon rolls his eyes at both of us before walking onto the elevator.
Cap cuts his eyes to mine, and he grins. He holds a palm up in the air, and I high-five him.
chapter twenty-four
MILES
Six years earlier
"Why is everything yellow?"
My dad is standing in the doorway to Rachel's bedroom, looking at the few items we've collected in the months since he's known about the pregnancy. "It looks like Big Bird threw up in here."
Rachel laughs. She's standing at the bathroom mirror, putting the finishing touches on her makeup. I've been lying on her bed, watching her.
"We don't want to know if it's a boy or a girl, so we're buying gender-neutral colors."
Rachel answers my dad's question as if it were one of many, but we both know it's the first. He hasn't asked about the pregnancy. He doesn't ask about our plans. He usually leaves the room if Rachel and I are both in it.
Lisa isn't much different. She's not past the point of disappointment or sadness yet, so we don't push it. It'll take time, so Rachel and I are giving that to them.
Right now, Rachel only has me to talk to about the baby, and I only have her, and even though that seems like too little, it's more than enough for both of us.
"How long will the ceremony last?" my dad asks me.
"No more than two hours," I tell him.
He says we should go.
I tell him that as soon as Rachel is ready, we can go.
Rachel says she's ready.
We go.
*
"Congratulations," I tell Rachel.
"Congratulations," she tells me.
We both graduated three hours ago. Now we're lying on my bed, thinking about our next step. Or at least I am, anyway.
"Let's move in together," I tell her.
She laughs. "We kind of already live together, Miles," she points out.
I shake my head. "You know what I mean. I know we already have plans for after we start college in August, but I think we should do it now."
She rises up on her elbow and looks at me, probably trying to read my expression to see if I'm serious.
"How? Where would we go?"
I reach over to my nightstand and open the top drawer. I pull out the letter and hand it to her.
She begins reading it out loud.
Dear Mr. Archer,
She looks up at me, and her eyes are wide.
Congratulations on your summer registration. We are pleased
to inform you that your application for family housing has been
processed and approved.
Rachel smiles.
Enclosed you will find a return envelope and the final
paperwork which will need to be returned by the postmarked
date.
Rachel looks at the envelope and quickly flips through the attached paperwork. She pulls the letter back to the top.
We look forward to receiving the completed forms. Our contact
information is below should you have any questions.
Sincerely,
Paige Donahue, Registrar
Rachel covers her smile with her hand and tosses the letter aside, then leans forward and hugs me.
"We get to move now?" she says.
I love how evident the excitement is in her voice.
I tell her yes. Rachel is relieved. She knows as well as I
do how awkward the next several weeks would have been in the same house as our parents.
"Have you asked your father yet?"
I tell her she forgets that we're adults now. We no longer have to ask for permission. We only have to inform.
Rachel says she wants to inform them right now.
I take Rachel's hand, and we walk together to the living room and inform our parents that we're moving out.
Together.
chapter twenty-five
TATE
It's been a few weeks since Corbin found out. He hasn't accepted it, and he still hasn't spoken to Miles, but he's beginning to adapt. He knows on the nights I leave without explanation, only to come back a few hours later, where I've been. He doesn't ask.
As far as things with Miles, I'm the one doing the adapting. I've had to adapt to his rules, because there's no way Miles is adapting to breaking them. I've learned to stop trying to figure him out and to stop allowing things to get so tense between us. We're doing exactly what we agreed to do in the beginning, which was to have sex.
A lot of sex.
Shower sex. Bedroom sex. Floor sex. Kitchen-table sex.
I've still never spent the night with him, and it still hurts sometimes how closed off he becomes right after it's over, but I still haven't figured out a way to say no to him.
I know I want so much more than what he's giving me and he wants so much less than what I want to give him, but we're both just taking what we can get for now. I try not to think about what will happen the day I can't handle it anymore. I try not to think about all the other things I'm sacrificing by still being involved with him.
I try not to think about it at all, but the thoughts still come. Every night, when I'm in bed, I think about it. Every time I'm in the shower, I think about it. When I'm in class, in the living room, in the kitchen, at work . . . I think about what's going to happen when one of us finally comes to our senses.
"Is Tate a nickname for something else?" Miles asks me.
We're in his bed. He just got home from four days at work, and even though our arrangement is supposed to be all about sex, we're still fully dressed. We're not making out. He's just lying with me, asking me personal questions about my name, and I love it so much more than any other day we've ever spent together.
It's the first time he's ever asked me a semi-personal question. I hate that his question fills me with all these feelings of hope, and all he did was ask me if Tate was a nickname.
"Tate is my middle name," I say. "It was my grandmother's maiden name."
"What's your first name?"
"Elizabeth."
"Elizabeth Tate Collins," he says, making love to my name with his voice. My name has never sounded as beautiful as it did just now, coming out of his mouth. "That's almost twice as many syllables as my name," he says. "That's a lot of syllables."
"What's your middle name?"
"Mikel," he says. "People always mispronounce it and say 'Michael,' though. Gets annoying."
"Miles Mikel Archer," I say. "That's a strong name."
Miles rises onto his elbow and looks down at me with a peaceful expression. He brushes my hair behind my ear as his eyes roam over my face. "Anything interesting happen this week while I was working, Elizabeth Tate Collins?" There's a playfulness in his voice. One that I'm not familiar with, but I like it. I like it a lot.
"Not really, Miles Mikel Archer," I say, smiling. "I worked a lot of overtime."
"Do you still like your job?" His fingers are touching my face, sliding across my lips, trailing down my neck.
"I do like it," I say. "Do you like being a captain?" I just throw versions of his own questions back at him. I figure it's safe that way, because I know he'll only give what he's willing to take.
Miles follows his hand with his eyes as he unbuttons the top button of my shirt. "I love my job, Tate." His fingers work on the second button of my shirt. "I just don't like being gone so much, especially knowing you're right across the hall from where I live. It makes me want to be home all the time."
I try to contain it, but I can't. His words make me gasp, even though it was probably the quietest gasp to ever pass anyone's lips.
But he notices.
His eyes meet mine in a flash, and I can see him wanting to backpedal. He wants to take back what he just said, because there was hope in those words. Miles doesn't say things like that. I know he's about to apologize. He's going to remind me that he can't love me, that he didn't mean to give me that inkling of false hope.
Don't take it back, Miles. Please, let me keep that.
Our eyes remain locked for several long seconds. I continue to stare up at him, waiting for the take-back. His fingers are still on the second button of my shirt, but they're not attempting to unbutton it anymore.
He focuses on my mouth, then back to my eyes again, then back to my mouth. "Tate," he whispers. He says my name so softly I'm not even sure if his mouth moves.
I don't have time to respond. His hand leaves the button of my shirt and slides through my hair at the same moment as his lips connect fiercely with mine. He slides his body on top of me, and his kiss instantly becomes intense. Deep. Dominating. His kiss is full of something that's never been there before. Full of feeling. Full of hope.
Until this moment, I thought a kiss was a kiss was a kiss. I had no idea kisses could mean different things and feel so completely opposite from one another. In the past, I've always felt passion and desire and lust . . . but this time, it's different.
This kiss is a different Miles, and I know in my heart that it's the real Miles. The Miles he used to be. The Miles I'm not allowed to ask about.
*
He rolls off of me when he's finished.
I stare up at the ceiling.
My head is full of so many questions. My heart is full of confusion. This thing between us has never been easy. One would think limiting oneself to just sex would be the simplest thing in the world, but it makes me question every move and every word that comes out of my mouth. I find myself analyzing every look he gives me.
I don't even know what move I'm supposed to make next. Do I lie here until he asks me to leave? I've never stayed the night with him before. Do I roll over and put my arms around him, hoping he'll hold me in return until we fall asleep? I'm too scared he'll reject me.
I'm stupid.
I'm a stupid, stupid girl.
Why can't this just be sex for me, too? Why can't I come over here, give him what he wants, get what I want, and leave?
I roll onto my side and slowly sit up. I reach down for my clothes, then stand up and dress myself. He's watching me. He's quiet.
I avoid looking at him until I'm fully dressed and slipping on my shoes. As much as I want to crawl back into the bed with him, I walk toward the door instead. I don't turn around to face him when I say, "See you tomorrow, Miles."
I make it all the way to his front door. He doesn't speak. He doesn't tell me he'll see me tomorrow, and he doesn't tell me good-bye.
I'm hoping his silence is proof that he doesn't like how it feels to be walked away from.
I open the door and walk across the hall and into my apartment. Corbin is seated on the couch, watching TV. He glances up at the door when he hears me enter, then shoots me a condescending look of disapproval.
"Lighten up," I say as I make my way inside. I slip off my shoes by the door. "You have to get over this eventually."
I see him shake his head, but I ignore it and walk toward my bedroom.
"He was screwing you behind my back and lying to me," Corbin says. "That's not something I'll get over."
I face the living room again and see that Corbin is looking at me. "Did you expect him to be open with you about it? My God, Corbin. You kicked Dillon out of your apartment for looking at me the wrong way."
Corbin stands up, angry now. "Exactly!" he shouts. "I thought Miles was protecting you from Dillon, when in reality, he was laying claim! He's a goddamn hypocrite, and I'll
be pissed at him for as long as I want to be pissed at him, so you get over it!"
I laugh, because Corbin has no right to point fingers.
"What's funny, Tate?" he snaps.
I walk back to the living room and stand directly in front of him. "Miles has been nothing but honest with me about what he wants. He hasn't once fed me a line of bullshit. I'm the only girl he's been with in six years, and you're going to call him a hypocrite?" I don't even try to keep my voice down anymore. "You might want to look in the mirror, Corbin. How many girls have you been with since I've moved in here? How many of them do you think have brothers who would love to kick your ass if they found out about you? If anyone's the hypocrite here, it's you!"
His hands are on his hips, and he's watching me with a hardened look in his eyes. When he fails to respond, I turn to walk back toward my room, but the front door opens with a knock.
Miles.
Corbin and I both turn, just as he peeks his head inside. "Everything good over here?" he asks, stepping into the living room.
I glance at Corbin, and Corbin glares at me. I arch an eyebrow, waiting for him to respond to the question Miles posed, since he's the one with the issue.
"You okay, Tate?" Miles asks, addressing only me now.
I look back over at him and nod. "I'm fine," I say. "I'm not the one with unrealistic expectations of my sibling."
Corbin groans loudly, then turns around and kicks the couch. Miles and I watch him as he slides his hands through his hair and grips the back of his neck tightly. He turns to face Miles again, then exhales heavily.
"Why couldn't you have just been gay?"
Miles looks at him with careful concentration. I'm waiting for either of them to have a reaction, so I'll know whether or not I can breathe.
Miles begins to shake his head as soon as a smile appears on his face.
Corbin starts to laugh, but he groans at the same time, indicating that he just came to terms with our arrangement, even though he still may not agree with it.
I smile and walk quietly out of the apartment, hoping they're about to mend whatever was broken between them when I stepped into the picture.
The elevator doors open on the lobby level, and I'm prepared to step off, but Cap is poised in front of them as if he's about to step on.
"You coming for me?" he asks.