Ugly Love: A Novel(17)

“Where you three headed?” Cap asks once we’re all off the elevator.

“Home to San Diego,” Corbin says. “You have any plans for Thanksgiving?”

“Gonna be a busy day for flights,” Cap says. “Reckon I’ll be here working.” He winks in my direction, and I wink back before he shifts his attention toward Miles. “How about you, boy? You headed home yourself?”

Miles silently watches Cap in the same way he silently stared at me on the elevator. This disappoints me tremendously, because on the elevator, I had a small glimmer of hope that Miles was staring at me like he was because he feels the same pull to me that I feel when I’m around him. But now, watching his visual standoff with Cap, I’m almost certain it doesn’t mean Miles is attracted to a person simply because he stares unabashedly. Miles apparently just looks at everyone this way. A very silent and awkward five seconds follows, with neither of them speaking. Maybe Miles doesn’t like being referred to as “boy”?

“Have a good Thanksgiving, Cap,” Miles finally utters, not even bothering to answer Cap’s question. He turns and begins walking through the lobby with Corbin.

I look at Cap and shrug my shoulders. “Wish me luck,” I say quietly. “Seems Mr. Archer might be having another bad day.”

Cap smiles. “Nah,” he says, backing up a step toward his chair. “Some people just don’t like questions is all.” He falls into his chair. He gives me a farewell salute, and I salute him back before walking toward the exit.

I can’t tell if Cap excuses Miles’s rude behavior because he likes Miles or if he just makes excuses for everyone.

“I’ll drive there if you want,” Miles says to Corbin when we all reach the car. “I know you haven’t slept yet. You can drive back tomorrow.”

Corbin agrees, and Miles opens the driver’s-side door. I climb into the backseat and try to figure out where to sit. I don’t know if I should sit directly behind Miles, in the middle, or behind Corbin. Anywhere I sit, I’ll feel him. He’s everywhere.

Everything is Miles.

That’s how it is when a person develops an attraction toward someone. He’s nowhere, then suddenly he’s everywhere, whether you want him to be or not.

It makes me wonder if I’m anywhere to him, but the thought doesn’t last long. I can tell when a guy is attracted to me, and Miles definitely does not fall into that category. Which is why I need to figure out how to stop whatever this is I feel when I’m around him. The last thing I want right now is a silly crush on a guy when I’ve barely got time to focus on both work and school.

I pull a paperback out of my purse and begin to read. Miles turns on the radio, and Corbin lays his seat back and kicks his feet up on the dash. “Don’t wake me up until we’re there,” he says, pulling his cap over his eyes.

I glance at Miles, and he’s adjusting his rearview mirror. He turns around and looks behind us to back out of the spot, and his eyes briefly meet mine.

“You comfortable?” he asks. He turns around before getting my answer and puts the car in drive, then glances at me in the rearview mirror.

“Yep,” I say. I make sure to tack a smile onto the end of that word. I don’t want him to think I’m upset that he came, but it’s hard for me not to appear closed off when I’m around him, since I’m trying so hard to be.

He looks straight ahead, and I look back down at my book.

Thirty minutes pass, and the movement of the car accompanied by my attempt to read is making my head hurt. I set the book down beside me and readjust myself in the backseat. I lean my head back and prop my feet up on the console between Miles and Corbin. He glances at me in the rearview mirror, and his eyes feel like they’re hands, running over every inch of me. He holds his stare for no longer than two seconds, then looks back at the road.

I hate this.

I have no idea what’s going through his head. He never smiles. He never laughs. He doesn’t flirt. His face appears as if he keeps a constant veil of armor between his expressions and the rest of the world.

I’ve always been a sucker for the quiet types of guys. Primarily because most guys talk too much, and it’s painful having to suffer through every single thought that goes through their heads. Miles makes me wish he were the opposite of the quiet type, though. I want to know all the thoughts that pass through his head. Especially the one thought that’s in there right now, hiding behind that unwavering, stoic expression.

I’m still staring at him in the rearview mirror, trying to figure him out, when he glances at me again. I look down at my phone, a little embarrassed that he caught me staring at him. But that mirror is like a magnet, and dammit if my eyes don’t shoot back up to it.

The second I look into the mirror again, so does he.

I look back down.

Shit.

This drive is about to be the longest drive of my entire life.

I make it three minutes, then I look again.

Shit. So does he.

I smile, amused by whatever game this is we’re playing.

He smiles, too.

He.

Smiles.

Too.

Miles looks back at the road, but his smile remains for several seconds. I know, because I can’t stop staring at it. I want to take a picture of it before it disappears again, but that would be weird.