5,331 Miles

by Aster, Willow

  His hands grip my waist and one hand slides under my shirt, cupping my breast. I lean into it, willing him to do whatever he wants with me. Instead, something changes in that moment, it’s almost as if a big bucket of ice water pours over us. He suddenly goes still and leans his forehead against mine, shaking it slightly.

  “I’m not gonna mess this up with you again, Bells. I’m sorry—I lost my head there,” he says shakily.

  I pull away and stand up. It takes me a moment to get my balance, and I can’t believe I can’t stalk away when I need to. He gets up and puts his hand on my arm.

  “Don’t.” I hold my hand out, and his hand falls. I can’t look at him.

  “I just…did I botch it up by kissing you or by stopping?” he asks. “Because there is nothing I want more—”

  “I think it’d be best if we went home.”

  20

  Present

  Have I mentioned you-know-who is a DAMN good kisser? Heavens to Purgatory and Beyond, he can kiss the booty off of Kim Kardashian and that is no small task. It’s a shame I keep shutting him down, because those lips are all I can think about…

  SOS,

  M

  Charles is able to arrange flights back for us that night. We land at San Diego International Airport at ten p.m. and there’s a car waiting to drive us home. The plane ride and the fifteen-minute car ride are painfully long. I haven’t taken any pain medication since this morning and my ankle is making me aware of it. But the silence between Jaxson and me is much more excruciating.

  He’s tried to talk several times and I’ve been polite but shut him down every time. All I know is I can’t be around him right now. I can’t be in love with Jaxson Marshall anymore. It didn’t work in the past, and it won’t work this time. I’m embarrassed I let things go as far as they did. I think he believes our lusty moments were because of the meds where I’m concerned, but as soon as his lips touched mine, I was fully aware of what I was doing. I’m just glad one of us had the wherewithal to stop when things got out of hand.

  We pull in front of my house and I turn to him. “Thank you for everything, Jaxson. This trip was what I needed in so many ways. You helped me see that I can talk about Tyra and not fall apart…it actually helps to talk about her. You were a gracious host and took great care of me when I fell. I appreciate that. And I needed this closure.”

  His brows crinkle together in the middle and he opens his mouth.

  “Thank you.” I turn to open the door and he puts his hand on my back to stop me.

  “What do you mean by closure?” he asks.

  “Do I need to spell it out?” I ask, looking over my shoulder. “I think we both needed to see that our past is just that, the past. Everything we’ve tried has backfired, even when I was willing to have sex with you this morning.”

  “So I did wreck everything when I stopped. Stopping was the last thing I wanted to do! I was trying to do the right thing…” he rushes to say.

  The driver turns the lights off and it’s the first time I think about him hearing this whole conversation.

  “You did do the right thing,” I assure Jaxson. I kiss my fingers and put them on his cheek. “I’m so glad you did.” He starts to respond and I shake my head. “Let’s just leave it at that, okay? Good night, Jaxson. Goodbye. I wish you well.”

  I step out of the car and he gets out to help me to the door, muttering, “I hate it when you say that. You wish me well,” he sputters. “Don’t talk to me like we’re strangers, Mira. We’re not. I know you love me. You’re just afraid. You told me you loved me last night. Did you know that?”

  I look at him in horror. He sets the suitcase down at the door and nods.

  “It’s true. You did. And I told you I loved you back. It was the best night I’ve ever had. And we can have a lifetime like that, if you’ll just let us.”

  I laugh. “We’re kids, Jaxson. I’m not even twenty-one yet. You’re twenty-two and aren’t even a hundred percent sure of what you want to do with your life. I’m not knocking it—it’s normal. We have time to know those things. This—we—are not normal.”

  “I don’t need to be older to know how I feel. And I’d rather not be normal with you than to be normal with anyone else!” he yells. “You’re breaking my heart, Bells. How can you keep shutting your heart to me? And what can I do to crack it open again?” He puts his head in his hands and rubs his eyes. When he looks at me again in the glow of the porchlight, he looks raw and empty. “Please don’t make me live another day without you. Please,” he says softly. He steps closer and puts his hands on my face. He looks from one eye to another as if willing me to hear him, but I take one of his hands from my cheek, kiss his palm, and walk inside, shutting the door softly behind me.

  * * *

  When my dad left, my mom cried every day for a year. I vowed then that no one would ever break me that way. It didn’t work. I’ve been broken more than once, but I keep thinking eventually I’ll learn.

  Jaxson is my weakness. He asked how to crack my heart open and he doesn’t realize that he does every single time we’re together. I’m not immune to him, and I’m afraid if I let him in one more time and he breaks me again, I’ll never get over it.

  * * *

  Dave and Mum hover over me for the next few days, concerned over my injury, concerned over my state of mind.

  “I’ll take off work today, sweetie…keep you company,” Mum says each morning when she wakes me up before she leaves for work.

  I roll over and put my pillow over my head. “Absolutely not,” I insist. “Let me sleep, Mum. Go to work.”

  Dave checks on me when he gets home from work. “Can I get you anything? Need help getting down the stairs? I can set you up down there…it’ll give you a change of scenery,” he says, trying to get me out of my bedroom.

  “I’m good here. I need the space. It’s okay,” I tell him.

  I try to withdraw into myself, the place I go when I feel too precarious. But no one will give me peace.

  Jaxson texts and calls regularly, checking to see how I’m feeling, and if my ankle is improving as it should. And whatever is on his mind at the time. I want him to leave me alone, but he’s like a persistent fly swarming around in my head. Sometimes I reply, sometimes I don’t.

  I think that cast makes your leg look extra hot. And my god, imagine when the cast comes off. Your ankle will be abnormally small compared to the other one. I can’t wait for that.

  Me: I’m so over this %*@(&@# cast. And you have the wrong number. Perv.

  Are you working this Saturday?

  Me: Not this week but next. Why?

  The guys and I got a last minute gig at Brigley’s Saturday night. You should come. Speaking of work. I didn’t even ask how your job is going.

  Me: I still love making people beautiful on the most important day of their life. We stay busy and make way better money than we used to. The occasional D-List celebrity wedding can be surprisingly good money. I can afford to keep Sundays free for homework!

  It’s incredibly sexy that you’re pursuing what you love. Also, that was the most appropriate use of an exclamation—great placement, and not three thousand of them.

  See, not the wrong number at all.

  Me: Weddings will be tricky with this cast. It can be done, but I’ll have to get a stool or something. !!!!!

  You sassy bugger!

  Liesl will bedazzle the stool if you’re not careful.

  Areola.

  Me: What?

  Just seeing if you’re still here.

  Me: Nope.

  Can I come over?

  Me: No.

  Between his ridiculous texts, I reorganize my bookshelves and closet while catching up on Netflix shows. Maddie comes over and we eat ice cream while watching more Netflix. After days of not accomplishing much, I don’t even feel guilty about how bedraggled I look. My hair is a dirty, tangled mess, I’m wearing a pair of old glasses that are crooked, and I haven’t worn makeup since I got ba
ck from New York. This is a record for me.

  What are you doing now?

  I ignore him and keep watching Doctor Zhivago. A box of tissues is clutched to my chest and I swipe my eyes every few minutes. The starkness of the desolate winter and the tragic love between Yuri and Lara are more than I can take. I sob into the tissues but can’t look away. The movie is almost over when the doorbell rings. I ignore it and it keeps ringing and ringing.

  Finally, ticked, I pause the movie and stand up, moving as cautiously and quietly as I can with this dumb cast toward the window to see if I can tell who it is.

  The ringing stops and then I hear, “I’m coming up.”

  “What? What are you doing here?” I twist around in a panic and wince as my ankle doesn’t move along with me as fast as I’d like. I catch a glimpse of myself in the dresser mirror and want to die. “Do not come in,” I tell him.

  Just as he’s saying, “I’m coming in. If you don’t want me to see anything, cover up.”

  When he opens my door, I give him the death stare. “I said ‘do not come in’ and I meant it. How did you even get in?”

  He grins. “The key is still where you guys have always hidden it. Listen, you’ve been avoiding me long enough. I’ve tried various approaches with you and letting you stew has not worked well for me in the past. So I’m here.” He shrugs. He takes a closer look at me. “Have you been crying? Bells, what am I gonna do with you?”

  “I was watching a sad movie…nothing to do with you, so you can move along.”

  “I’ll watch it with you. What are we watching?” He gets on my bed and pats the covers next to him.

  “Why are you so annoying?”

  “I like to think I’m older and wiser this time around,” he says quietly. “And I’ve always had an annoying streak, right?” He laughs and then frowns when I don’t join him. “We don’t have to talk today if you don’t want to, but I need to be near you.” He pats the covers again and unpauses the movie. “Ooo, did you know that the author who wrote this based Lara on his real-life mistress, Olga?”

  “Shhh.”

  “Sassy bugger,” he whispers and turns back to the movie, a satisfied smile on his face.

  21

  Past

  2014

  You know what, D? There is a God in heaven and her name is Tyra.

  XO,

  Mira

  At school, I’d always done whatever I could to hide, with exception to my hair and makeup—I never went without those two things in top form once I learned how to do them properly—but the rest of me was usually in baggy, nondescript clothes and I stayed under every radar. I didn’t answer questions unless called on. I didn’t try out for anything, didn’t do any extra clubs. I decided to change that when I went back junior year. I wanted to make sure Tyra was not forgotten.

  On the first day, I dressed to kill. Nothing over the top, but more deliberate than I’d ever been. I wore a pair of kickass boots. My jeans were ripped in all the right places and fit like a second skin. My shirt was snug and accentuated my newly discovered waist, which also drew attention to my chest. I had dusted a fine shimmery powder on my skin that gave it a radiant glow, I tried out one of the makeup palettes I’d used on a bride the weekend before and nailed it, and my hair, which I’d always thought was my only redeeming feature, was in top form.

  “Go in there looking good and like you know you look good,” I said Tyra’s words to myself in the mirror and walked out the door.

  I didn’t have my license yet, so I lost some of my rockstar vibes when my mum dropped me off in front of the school since I’d taken too long getting ready. It felt like every eye turned on me when I started walking to the door. I turned around to see if anyone was behind me when I saw a few gaping mouths and elbows knocking other elbows to see if the person next to them was looking, but it was just me. Tyra would’ve loved this moment.

  Better yet, when I walked through the door, Jaxson, Derek, and another guy I didn’t know were standing there. A guy almost as cute as Jaxson. When Jaxson saw me, his eyes widened and he did a double take, standing up straighter.

  “Bells? Holy—what did…you look fantastic,” he stuttered. He looked at the guys who were also gawking at me.

  “You look fucking hot,” Derek said.

  Jaxson hit him in the chest. I rolled my eyes at Derek but bit back a grin at Jaxson.

  “That’s no way to talk to Bells,” he said.

  Derek laughed. “But it’s true. You look great, Mira,” he added.

  “Thanks.”

  The guy next to Derek held out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Miles,” he said. “Just moved here, junior…” He motioned to Jaxson. “My stepdad works with his stepdad, so we met in the summer.”

  “Oh, my mum must know him too then. She’s one of the agents. Nice to meet you,” I said, smiling. He was really cute. “I’m a junior too.”

  His grin widened and my heart skipped a little faster.

  Jaxson stepped forward and took my elbow. “Got a minute?” We stepped away from Derek and Miles. “I came over a few times this summer but never got a chance to see you. You doing okay? You look so…different. I can’t believe it.”

  “Not as fat, you mean,” I said.

  “No! You were never…that’s not what I meant. You’re like, tall now too. You’ve always been beautiful, Mira. And you look…well, I know it’s been really hard since Tyra. I just wanted to make sure you’re really okay. You’re healthy? And you’re, uh…you’re eating, right? I’ve never…seen you this skinny.” He cringed with those last words and ran his fingers through his hair.

  I looked at him, incredulous. “Of course I’m eating. I’m trying for healthier choices more often, and yeah, I finally grew taller. Mum always said I’d be a late bloomer. She was, Gran was. As for how I am? I’ve lost my best friend. Twice. I’m doing about as well as can be expected.”

  I walked away, his stunned expression lingering in my mind. He had the nerve to think I’d confide in him after all this time? Unbelievable. And what was the deal with him and my mum thinking I’d starved myself? I wasn’t that skinny.

  My inner rant threatened to ramble all day, but midway through the morning, I reminded myself of what I’d set out to accomplish this year. I went to the office when I had a few extra minutes and asked to speak to someone about an idea I had. Within minutes, I was speaking to Leigh, the counselor who’d tried to talk to me several times after everything happened with Tyra.

  “I’m so glad you reached out to me,” she said. “I’ve thought about you over the summer. How has it been?”

  “It’s been hard, but I’m not really here to talk about that,” I told her. “I’ve been thinking there must be ways we can keep Tyra’s memory alive. I can’t talk about her yet. I don’t want to,” I reiterate, just in case she thinks this is a counseling session. “But I need everyone not to forget her. She loved clothes and—” The lump in my throat grew too big to ignore, but I swallowed it down and tried to change the course of the conversation to be about the end result I wanted. It was still so hard. “Everyone should feel their best, whether it’s prom night or at school every day. I’d like to organize clothing donations. We could call it Tyra’s Closet. No one has to spend any money and it’d be a tax write-off. It can be as simple as people around here cleaning out their closets, but I’d also like to visit businesses and clothing stores who might want to donate new items. We can do three big pushes so there are gowns to choose from for Homecoming, Winter Formal, and Prom…but I’d also like to provide things like flannel shirts and nice sweaters…”

  I took a breath then and began to worry when Leigh didn’t say anything right away.

  “If I need to simplify it, I can, but this—”

  “I love the idea,” she jumped in. “Love it. You’ve obviously put a great deal of thought into it, and Tyra’s Closet—that’s perfect!” She clapped her hands together and I laughed. “I know just who to talk to about this. I’m positive she
’ll love it as much as I do and will help us get the ball rolling. Can we talk again tomorrow around this time?”

  I nodded, a relieved smile stretching across my face. “Yes. Thank you so much.”

  My last class of the day was physics and when I walked in, I bumped into Miles.

  “Finally! I’ve been hoping to have a class with you all day,” he said.

  “Oh!” I rubbed my lips together nervously and then smiled. “Hi.” I groaned inside at how lame I was. “How has your day been?”

  We sat next to each other in the back.

  “It’s been long. You’re the nicest person I’ve met so far,” he said. “Jax is pretty nice too. You guys go way back, he said?”

  “We do, yes.”

  “Cool.” He flipped open his notebook and then faced me, elbows on his knees. “Hey, would you want to go get some gelato after this? Compare notes on our classes? I’m addicted to that place on Girard.”

  “Um, sure,” I said. “I won’t have my license for another couple of weeks, so I just walk,” I added.

  He grinned. “You can ride with me.”

  The bell rang and I pulled out my notebook, the thrill of being asked out on my first date—if you could count going for gelato to discuss school a date—doing a crazy dance in my chest.

  * * *

  When class was over, Miles waited for me to gather all my things and then walked to my locker with me. His locker was across from mine and when we saw that, we smiled shyly at one another. When we had everything, we walked outside. It was one of those perfect days of sunshine with a faint breeze; the fragrance of flowers, salt water, and car fumes wafting in the air.

  “I’m this way,” he said.

  We walked a few feet and I stopped when I saw Jaxson and Heather walking toward us. Heather had become a pro at schooling her expressions when Jaxson was around. The most I’d heard her say anything negative around him had been at his party so long ago; typically, the times I’d been around them she’d done a good job of acting. When she saw Miles, she smiled so big.