Ugly Love(35)

“Black?” he says, unsure of his own answer. “I like black.”
I shake my head. “You can’t decorate with black curtains. You need color. Maybe something close to black but not black.”
“Navy?” he asks. I notice his eyes aren’t focused on mine anymore. His eyes are scrolling slowly from my neck all the way down to my feet. Everywhere his eyes focus, I can feel it.
“Navy might work,” I say quietly. I’m pretty sure this conversation is only taking place for the sake of having conversation. I can see by the way he’s looking at me that neither of us is thinking about colors or curtains or rugs right now.
“Do you have to work tonight, Tate?”
I nod. I like that he’s thinking about tonight, and I love how he ends most of his questions with my name. I love how he says my name. I should require him to say my name every time he speaks to me. “I don’t have to be in until ten.”
The elevator reaches the bottom floor, and we both move to the doors at the same time. His hand connects with the small of my back, and the current that moves through me is undeniable. I’ve had crushes on guys before, hell, I’ve even been in love with guys before, but none of their touches have ever been able to make me respond the way his do.
As soon as I step off the elevator, his hand leaves my back. I’m more aware of the absence of his touch now than before he even touched me. Each little bit I get, I crave it that much more.
Cap isn’t in his usual spot. That’s not surprising, though, considering it’s only noon. He’s not much of a morning person. Maybe that’s why we get along so well.
“You feel like walking?” Miles asks.
I tell him yes, despite the fact that it’s cold out. I prefer walking, and we’re near several stores that would work for what he’s looking for. I suggest a store I passed a couple of weeks ago that’s only two blocks from where we are.
“After you,” he says, holding the door open for me. I step outside and pull my coat a little tighter around me. I highly doubt Miles is the type of guy who holds hands in public, so I don’t even worry about making my hands available to him. I hug myself to keep warm, and we begin walking side-by-side.
We’re quiet most of the way, but I’m fine with it. I’m not someone who feels the need for constant conversation, and I’m learning that he might be the same way.
“It’s right up here,” I say, pointing to the right when we reach a crosswalk. I glance down at an elderly man seated on the sidewalk, bundled up in a tattered, thin coat. His eyes are closed, and the gloves on his shivering hands are rifled with holes.
I’ve always been sympathetic to people who have nothing and nowhere to go. Corbin hates that I can never pass homeless people without giving them money or food. He says the majority of them are homeless because they have addictions and that when I give them money, it only feeds those addictions.
Honestly, I don’t care if that’s the case. If someone is homeless because he has a need for something that is stronger than his need for a home, it doesn’t deter me in the least. Maybe it’s because I’m a nurse, but I don’t believe addiction is a choice. Addiction is an illness, and it pains me to see people forced to live this way because they’re unable to help themselves.
I would give him money if I had brought my purse.
I realize I’m no longer walking when I feel Miles steal a glance back in my direction. He’s watching me watch the old man, so I pick up my pace and catch back up with him. I don’t say anything to defend the troubled expression on my face. It’s pointless. I’ve been through it enough with Corbin to know that I don’t have the desire to try to change all the opinions I disagree with.
“This is it,” I say, coming to a pause in front of the store.
Miles stops walking and inspects the display inside the store window. “Do you like that?” he asks, pointing at the window. I take a step closer and look at it with him. It’s a bedroom display, but there are elements in it that he’s looking for. The rug on the floor is gray with several geometric shapes in various shades of blue and black. It actually looks like something that would fit his taste.
The curtains aren’t navy, though. They’re a slate gray, with one solid white line running vertically down the left side of the panel.
“I do like it,” I reply.
He steps in front of me and opens the door to let me walk in first. A saleswoman is making her way toward the front before the door even closes behind us. She asks if she can help us find anything. Miles points to the window. “I want those curtains. Four of them. And the rug.”
The saleswoman smiles and motions for us to follow her. “What width and height do you need?”
Miles pulls his phone out and reads off the measurements to her. She helps him pick out curtain rods and then tells us she’ll be a few minutes. She heads to the back and leaves us alone at the register. I look around, suddenly developing the urge to pick out decorations for my own place. I plan on staying with Corbin for a couple more months, but it wouldn’t hurt to have an idea of what I’ll want for my own place when I do finally move out. I’m hoping it’ll be just as easy to shop when that time comes as it was for Miles today.
“I’ve never seen anyone shop this fast,” I tell him.
“Disappointed?”
I quickly shake my head. If there’s one thing I don’t do well as a girl, it’s shop. I’m actually relieved it only took him a minute.
“You think I should look around longer?” he asks. He’s leaning against the counter now, watching me. I like the way he looks at me—like I’m the most interesting thing in the store.