Ugly Love: A Novel(16)

I close my eyes. I only see Rachel.

I wash my hands. I want to touch Rachel.

I dry my hands on a towel before turning around to face her. Her hands are gripping the counter behind her. Mine are folded across my chest.

“They’re the worst parents in the world,” she whispers.

Her voice cracks.

My heart cracks.

“Despicable,” I say to her.

She laughs.

I’m not supposed to fall in love with your laugh, Rachel.

She sighs. I fall in love with that, too.

“How long have they been seeing each other?” I ask her.

She’ll be honest.

She shrugs. “About a year. It’s been long-distance until she moved us here to be closer to him.”

I feel my mother’s heart breaking.

We hate him.

“A year?” I ask. “Are you sure?”

She nods.

She doesn’t know about my mother. I can tell.

“Rachel?”

I say her name out loud, just like I’ve wanted to do since the second I met her.

She continues to look directly at me. She swallows, then breathes out a shallow “Yeah?”

I step toward her.

Her body reacts. She stands taller but not by much. She breathes heavier but not by much. Her cheeks grow redder but not by much.

It’s all just enough.

My hand fits her waist. My eyes search hers.

They don’t tell me no, so I do.

When my lips touch hers, it’s so many things. It’s good and bad and right and wrong and revenge.

She inhales, stealing some of my breaths. I breathe into her, giving her more. Our tongues touch and our guilt intertwines and my fingers slide through the hair God made specifically for her.

My new favorite flavor is Rachel.

My new favorite thing is Rachel.

I want Rachel for my birthday. I want Rachel for Christmas. I want Rachel for graduation.

Rachel, Rachel, Rachel.

I’m gonna fall in love with you anyway, Rachel.

The back door opens.

I release Rachel.

She releases me but only physically. I can still feel her in every other way.

I look away from her, but everything is still Rachel.

Lisa walks into the kitchen. She looks happy.

She has a right to be happy. She’s not the one who died.

Lisa tells Rachel it’s time to go.

I tell them both good-bye, but my words are only for Rachel. She knows this.

I finish the dishes.

I tell my father Lisa was nice.

I don’t tell him I hate him yet. Maybe I never will. I don’t know what good it would do to let him know that I don’t see him the same way anymore.

Now he’s just . . . normal. Human.

Maybe that’s the rite of passage before you become a man—realizing your father doesn’t have life figured out any more than you do.

I go to my room. I take out my phone, and I text Rachel.

Me: What do we do about tomorrow night?

Rachel: We lie to them?

Me: Can you meet me at seven?

Rachel: Yes.

Me: Rachel?

Rachel: Yeah?

Me: Good night.

Rachel: Good night, Miles.

I turn off my phone, because I want that to be the last text I receive for the night. I close my eyes.

I’m falling, Rachel.





chapter seven


TATE


It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen Miles but only two seconds since the last time I’ve thought about him. He seems to work just as much as Corbin does, and while it’s nice to have the place to myself occasionally, it’s also nice when Corbin isn’t working and there’s actually someone to talk to. I would say it’s nice when Corbin and Miles are both off work, but that hasn’t happened since I’ve lived here.

Until now.

“His dad is working, and he’s off until Monday,” Corbin says. I had no idea he’d invited Miles to come back home with us for Thanksgiving until just now. He’s knocking on Miles’s apartment door. “He doesn’t have anything else to do.”

I’m pretty sure I nod after hearing those words, but I turn and walk straight toward the elevator. I’m afraid that when Miles opens his door, my excitement over the fact that he’s coming with us will be transparent.

I’m on the elevator, at the far back wall, when they both step on. Miles finds me and nods, but that’s all I get. The last time I spoke to him, I made things completely awkward between us, so I don’t say a word. I also try not to stare at him, but it’s extremely difficult to focus on anything else. He’s casually dressed in a baseball cap, jeans, and a 49ers T-shirt. I think that’s why I find him hard to look away from, though, because I’ve always found guys more attractive when they put less effort into trying to appear attractive.

My eyes leave his clothes and meet his concentrated stare. I don’t know whether to smile in embarrassment or look away, so I just choose to copy his next move, waiting for him to look away first.

He doesn’t. He continues to watch me in silence for the remainder of the elevator ride, and I stubbornly do the same. When we finally make it to the ground floor, I’m relieved he steps off first, because I have to inhale a pretty noticeable breath, considering I haven’t inhaled in at least sixty seconds.