Ugly Love(67)

He shakes his head and finally begins moving toward me. “I just . . .” He’s still staring at my bikini. “I hope no one is up there, because if you’re wearing that bikini, these swim shorts are going to be really embarrassing.” He looks down at his shorts. At the obvious bulge in them.
I laugh. So he actually likes the bikini.
He takes another step forward and slides his hands around to the back of my shorts, then pulls me against him. “I changed my mind,” he says with a grin. “I want to stay here.”
I immediately shake my head. “I’m going swimming,” I say. “You can stay here if you want, but you’ll be alone.”
He kisses me, then backs me toward his apartment door. “Then I guess I’m going swimming,” he says.
? ? ?

Miles enters the passcode for rooftop access, then opens the door for me. I’m relieved to see that no one else is out here, and I am taken by how breathtakingly beautiful it is. It’s an infinity pool, overlooking the city, and it’s lined with patio chairs, all the way to the opposite end, where it’s capped off with an attached hot tub.
“I can’t believe neither of you thought to mention this before now,” I say. “All these months, and I’ve been missing out.”
Miles takes my towel and lays it on one of the tables surrounding the pool. He walks back over to me and drops his hands to the button on my shorts. “This is actually the first time I’ve ever been out here.” He unzips my shorts and pushes them over my hips. His lips are close to mine, and his expression is playful. “Come on,” he whispers. “Let’s get wet.”
I kick off the shorts at the same time as he takes off his shirt. The air is incredibly cold, but the steam rising from the water is promising. I walk to the shallow end to descend the steps, but Miles dives headfirst into the deep end of the pool. I step in, and my feet are swallowed up in the warmth of the water, so I quickly step in the rest of the way. I make my way toward the middle of the pool and walk to the edge, then rest my arms on the concrete ledge looking out over the city.
Miles swims up behind me and cages me in by pressing his chest against my back and placing his hands on either side of the ledge. He rests his head against mine as we both take in the view.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
He’s quiet.
We watch the city in silence for what seems like forever. Every now and then, he’ll cup his hands and bring water up to my shoulders to warm my chills away.
“Have you always lived in San Francisco?” I ask him. I turn so that my back is against the ledge now and I’m facing him. He keeps his arms on either side of me and nods.
“Close to it,” he says, still looking at the city over my shoulder.
I want to ask him where, but I don’t. I can tell by his body language that he doesn’t want to talk about himself. He never wants to talk about himself.
“Are you an only child?” I ask, trying to see what I can get away with. “Any brothers or sisters?”
He looks me in the eyes now. His lips are pressed into a firm, agitated line. “What are you doing, Tate?” He doesn’t ask it in a rude way, but there’s no other way his question can come across.
“Just making conversation,” I say. My voice is soft and sounds offended.
“I can think of a lot more things I’d rather talk about than myself.”
But that’s all I want to know about, Miles.
I nod, understanding that although I’m technically not breaking his rules, I’m bending them. He doesn’t feel comfortable with that.
I turn around and face the ledge again. He’s still in the same position, pressed against me, but it’s different now. He’s stiff. Guarded. Defensive.
I don’t know anything about him. I don’t know a single thing about his family, and he’s already met mine. I don’t know a single thing about his past, but he’s slept in my childhood bed. I don’t know what subjects I bring up or what actions I take that will cause him to close off, but I’ve got nothing to hide from him.
He sees me for exactly who I am.
I don’t see him at all.
I quickly bring a hand up and wipe away a tear that somehow just escaped down my cheek. The absolute last thing I want is for him to see me cry. As much as I know I’m too far gone to continue treating this as casual sex, I’m also too far gone to stop it. I’m terrified to lose him for good, so I sell myself short and take what I can from him, even though I know I deserve better.
Miles places a hand on my shoulder and turns me around to face him. When I choose to stare down at the water instead, he hooks a finger under my chin and makes me look up at him. I allow him to tilt my face up to his, but I don’t make eye contact. I look up and to the right, attempting to blink back the tears.
“I’m sorry.”
I don’t even know what he’s apologizing for. I don’t even know if he knows what he’s apologizing for. But we both know my tears have everything to do with him, so he’s more than likely just apologizing for that simple reason alone. Because he knows he’s incapable of giving me what I want.
He stops making me look at him and instead pulls me to his chest. I rest my ear against his heart, and he rests his chin on top of my head.
“Do you think we should stop?” he asks quietly. His voice is fearful, like he’s hoping my answer is no, yet he feels compelled to ask me anyway.
“No,” I whisper.
He sighs heavily. It sounds like it could be a sigh of relief, but I’m not sure. “If I ask you something, will you be honest with me?”