Ugly Love(44)

He laughs with a shake of his head. “Hands are fair game. But if you think I cheated, maybe we should have a rematch.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Best two out of three?”
He lifts me by my waist and begins to push me toward the passenger door as he struggles to get behind the steering wheel. He hands me my clothes, pulls his shirt back over his head, and buttons his jeans. Once he’s situated, I adjust myself in the passenger seat and finish dressing while he cranks the car. He throws it in reverse and begins backing out. “Buckle up,” he says with a wink.
? ? ?

We barely made it out of the elevator, much less to his bed. He almost took me right there in the hallway. The sad part is, I wouldn’t have minded.
He won again. I’m beginning to realize that competing for who can stay the quietest isn’t really a good idea when my competitor is naturally the quietest person I’ve ever met.
I’ll get him in round three. Just not tonight, because Corbin will more than likely be heading home soon.
Miles is staring at me. He’s on his stomach, with his hands folded across his pillow and his head resting on his arms. I’m getting dressed, because I want to beat Corbin to our apartment so I don’t have to lie about where I’ve been.
Miles follows me around his bedroom with his eyes as I dress.
“I think your bra is still in the hallway,” he says with a laugh. “Might want to grab it before Corbin finds it.”
I crinkle up my nose at the thought. “Good idea,” I say. I kneel down on the bed and kiss him on the cheek, but he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me forward as he rolls onto his back. He gives me an even better kiss than the one I was just giving him.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He nods, but it’s a forced nod. He’s nervous about my questions.
“Why don’t you ever make eye contact when we’re having sex?”
My question throws him for a loop. He regards me for several silent moments until I pull even farther away and sit next to him on the bed, waiting for his answer.
He pushes himself up and leans back against his headboard, staring down at his hands. “People are vulnerable during sex,” he says with a shrug. “It’s easy to confuse feelings and emotions for something they aren’t, especially when eye contact is involved.” He lifts his eyes to mine. “Does it bother you?”
I’m shaking my head no, but my heart is crying Yes! “I’ll get used to it, I guess. I was just curious.”
I love being with him but hate myself more and more with each new lie that passes my lips.
He smiles and pulls me back to his mouth, kissing me with more finality this time. “Good night, Tate.”
I back away and walk out of his room, feeling his eyes on me the entire time. It’s funny how he refuses to make eye contact during sex yet can’t seem to keep his eyes off me the rest of the time.
I don’t feel like going back to the apartment yet, so after retrieving my bra, I walk to the elevators and make my way down to the lobby to see if Cap is still around. I barely had a chance to wave at him earlier before Miles shoved me onto the elevator and ravished me.
Sure enough, Cap is still planted in his chair, despite the fact that it’s after ten o’clock at night.
“Do you ever sleep?” I ask as I make my way to the chair next to him.
“People are more interesting at night,” he says. “I like to sleep late. Avoid all the fools who are in too much of a rush in the mornings.”
I sigh a lot louder than I intend to when I lean my head back into the chair. Cap notices and turns to look at me.
“Oh, no,” he says. “Trouble with the boy? Looked like the two of you were getting along fine a couple of hours ago. Think I might have even seen a hint of a smile on his face when he walked in with you.”
“Things are fine,” I say. I pause for a few seconds, gathering my thoughts. “Have you ever been in love, Cap?”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Oh, yes,” he says. “Her name was Wanda.”
“How long were you married?”
He looks at me and cocks an eyebrow. “I ain’t never been married,” he says. “I think Wanda’s marriage lasted about forty years before she passed, though.”
I tilt my head, trying to understand what he’s saying. “You have to give me more than that.”
He sits up straighter in his chair, the smile still on his face. “She lived in one of the buildings I did maintenance for. She was married to a bastard of a man who was only home about two weeks out of the month. I fell in love with her when I was around thirty years old. She was in her mid-twenties. People just didn’t get divorced back then once they got married. Especially women like her who came from the type of family she came from. So I spent the next twenty-five years loving her as hard as I could for two weeks out of every month.”
I stare at him, not sure how to respond to that. It’s not the typical love story people usually tell. I’m not even sure if it can be considered a love story.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he says. “Sounds depressing. More like a tragedy.”
I nod, confirming his assumption.
“Love isn’t always pretty, Tate. Sometimes you spend all your time hoping it’ll eventually be something different. Something better. Then, before you know it, you’re back to square one, and you lost your heart somewhere along the way.”
I stop looking at him and face forward. I don’t want him to see the frown that I can’t seem to remove from my face.