My Way Series: Books 1-3

by H. J. Bellus

  I sensibly snagged some apples, bottles of water, and jerky for extra snacks while at the grocery store. Annie soon joined Miles and his basket when she spied him cleaning out the candy aisle. I’m not sure who was worse. When Miles wanted to buy two king size Reese’s candy bars, I had to interrupt and it was frowned upon by both. He also picked up some deodorant and a notebook. Whatever.

  “Willow! Come in. Puhlease,” squeals Annie as she sits on Miles’ shoulders.

  The whistle blows and they get busted by the lifeguard. I’m not sure who’s more mature in this situation. I have to hand it to Miles—he’s kept right up with Annie. If she wanted to shoot hoops in the shallow end of the pool, he was shooting hoops with her. If she was trying to balance on the floating snake, he was balancing right along with her and randomly sinking it, dunking all the kids.

  My only saving grace on this trip is my swimming suit Annie picked. Milly was quite well-known for racy bikinis back in the day. I’m beyond thrilled that Annie selected a simple black one-piece suit with a scooping back line that rests right above my rear. Miles didn’t fare so well, she packed a pair of Sponge Bob swimming trunks for him. Lacey bought them as a gag gift on Cree’s last birthday. Miles didn’t even blink an eye when she pulled them from her bag.

  “C’mon, Aunt Wils,” she begs again.

  Pulling my aviators on top of my head to get a better look at the pair begging me from the side of the pool, I give in to their pathetic puppy dog faces.

  “Okay, I’ll get in, but I’m not getting my hair wet.”

  “Yes,” Annie hollers and fist bumps Miles.

  I lay out all three of our princess towels that Annie also packed, so they’ll be nice and warm when we get out.

  “Okay, DO NOT get my hair wet, you little freaks,” I warn, as I make my way to the edge of the pool.

  “Got it, Wils,” Annie chirps.

  I crouch down to ease myself in the pool, when Miles grabs my wrist. My eyes instantly focus on his tattoo sleeve that runs the length of his arm. Koi fish, feathers, and abstract art dance all over his beautiful tan skin. He tugs on my wrist, catching my attention once again. I barely catch the douche canoe’s gleam in his eyes before he tugs harder.

  “Miles. Don’t you freaking dare—”

  My threat is gurgled out when my mouth fills with water and my ass flies over his head. He sends me soaring over him into the cold water, and I can feel my body do a graceful belly flop. Both my feet hook onto his shoulders, and I soon find myself flailing around to get back above water.

  When I finally resurface, I see Annie with her mouth covered, trying to hide her giggles and Miles openly laughing with his head thrown back. A part of me is ready to stomp off and throw a fit, and the other part is armed to retaliate.

  “I couldn’t resist, Willow. I mean, who threatens people to not get their hair wet at the pool? Then you positioned yourself perfectly,” Miles says, placing his hands on his chest.

  The sight of these two easily bring a smile to my face. Digging deep, I try to hide it, and let them believe they’re in the dog house. Annie gets distracted when one of her friends shows up. She swims away laughing and bragging about what Miles just did.

  Miles moves closer and stretches out his hand to grab my floating sunglasses. I watch his every movement with a cautious but apprehensive heart. He places my sunglasses on my face and wraps one arm around my lower back, pulling me in to him. This is the closest we have ever been, and the skin to skin contact is not lost on my brain. Every inch of his skin touching mine is sending shockwaves throughout my body. As if Miles senses my need, he pulls me closer. The water is very cold, but hasn’t stopped a certain part of him from growing. His now very large and hard bulge is pressing against my center.

  “Truce, Willow?”

  I grab his free hand and wrap it around my back to meet his other hand, and then I wrap my arms around his neck. Miles relaxes into me as I melt right back into him. I want to make my move desperately and ravage his mouth. Ever so desperately, that is. I have an angel on my shoulder rooting me on in different directions, and of course my god damn hormones screaming for me to take a ride. Miles finally rests his forehead on mine, and I think he’s about to go in for the kill with his lips.

  I take advantage of his moment of weakness, and lay back, taking him under with me. About half way through the action, he realizes he’s about to be dunked himself, so I tighten my grip and kick his feet out from under him. Growing up with an older brother, I have to learned a lot of low blow tricks.

  Miles goes under, and by some strange magical powers, I manage to stay above water. When Miles finally emerges, he has a huge grin on his face.

  “You’ve got game, Willow.”

  “Truce? “ I ask.

  “Nothing would make this shitty day any better. Truce,” Miles says, and goes back to hugging me.

  “I didn’t say swimming pool lover. I said truce,” I clarify to him.

  “And I said truce to fighting. Not drowning you over and over.”

  The last thing I notice are his pearly whites before I go under.

  ***

  Strangely enough, I’ve fallen into a quite comfortable routine with my family and Miles. Miles and I eat our dinner together every night I work late. He finally opened up about his mother and pieces of his childhood and it’s not pretty. His mom is currently dying of alcoholic liver disease. Miles’ carefree and playful personality reflects nothing of his childhood. Someone with a childhood similar to his would be a bitter, pissed off person on a mission to find revenge.

  We still fight constantly. It’s mostly me ripping his head off, accusing him of breaking my heart and using me, which is ridiculous considering we’re barely classified as friends.

  The first night we went swimming with Annie, Miles bought a notebook at the grocery store. The next morning with my fortune cookie delivery, there sat the simple notebook. On the inside cover, Miles wrote:

  Willow,

  Deep down, I believe you have extra baggage weighing you down. Lose it. Lose the self you know now in this notebook. I’d be thrilled to meet the real Willow one day.

  Miles

  The fighting hairs on the back of my neck instantly stood to attention and I threw away the notebook, but ate the cookie, of course. The next morning that damn notebook was in the same place. I ditched it again in a trash can out in the alley, but just like a pesky wart, it ended up back on the counter. Finally, giving up, I tossed it in my purse along with all the other random things I pack around and never use or need, like Annie’s harmonica, some of Rose’s sweet baby lotion, and Mac’s race car. Oh, and I can’t forget the assortment of condoms Lacey stashed in there for me in case of emergencies.

  It has been over a month since our first swimming date and we haven’t missed one opportunity to be together. By together, I mean laugh, fight, and dunk each other. I fight every day with my cold hearted bitch persona to keep Miles out of my heart, and I’m afraid it’s a battle that I’ll never be able to win.

  Chapter 7

  Dentist

  “What exactly did I say?”

  “Um, Willow, you talked non-stop. You let me know that you’re a fine catch and that any man would be lucky to have you, which I totally agree with, by the way.”

  Holy shit! I can’t believe how big of an idiot I am. I cover my face to hide the embarrassment that is dribbling off me. Moments later, I feel Miles’ presence and smell his strong scent of straight up man. Miles peels my hands away from my face. His shit-eating grin can only mean one thing…

  “You also asked me if I thought you were sexy, and if I would shag you in my sexy ass car.”

  “Oh. My. God. That’s enough. Tell me no more. I blame all my actions and words on the pain pills.”

  “You don’t want to hear about your magic trick? You explained away all your great shagging talents, and your favorite position in great detail.”

  “Enough!”

  Miles bursts out in laughter at
my obvious display of sheer horror.

  “You, Willow, are quite the naughty baker, but don’t worry. I would never take advantage of a drugged up lady, and I’m serious about that,” he says as he continues to laugh.

  The first lightning bolt of real pain shoots from my tooth into my jawbone. The pain is fierce and causes me to wince and instinctively grab my face. In moments like these, I really want my momma. Another flash of pain hits immediately and then a continued throbbing that feels like my jawbone is being ice picked by fire ants. This time I squeak out in pain and bury my face in my hoodie. If I wasn’t in so much pain, I would ask Miles why I’m wearing his hoodie.

  When another moan of pain escapes me, Miles scoops me up in his arms and places me on his lap.

  “Are you okay, Willow?”

  “Why does it still hurt? I thought they fixed it?”

  Tears start to build up. I grab my injured puffy cheek and rest my head on Miles’ chest.

  “The dentist told me they had to do a lot of work and the root canal was deeper than they had anticipated. He said that when the numbing agent wore off, you would feel some pain for awhile. I picked up your prescriptions. You have pain killers and an antibiotic,” Miles says as he hands me two white pills.

  I barely lift my head to look at him. “Why?”

  “Why what, Willow.”

  “Why are you taking care of me?”

  “I told you already. I like you.”

  “I’ve only been a bitch to you, and you of all people know how broken I am. So, why?”

  “One, you know I don’t like shiny things. I’ve told you this over and over. Two, I’ve come to love the bitchy you, and three, I couldn’t leave you spread-eagle on the sidewalk in front of the dentist’s office on the main road.”

  I fly up to a sitting position, still holding my cheek. “Hold the phone! Spread-eagle, sidewalk, dentist…are you shitting me, Miles?”

  “Out of all of that, you picked up on the spread-eagle part?”

  “Just tell me you’re lying,” I beg.

  “I’m not lying. You were exposing your lady bits to the town. I love being with you and you’re not broken, Willow. You’re perfect. You never have to be something else with me,” Miles finishes as he hands me a glass of water.

  “Thank you, but why was I on the sidewalk?” I whisper.

  “The receptionist said you were convinced that Cree was coming for you and you insisted on waiting outside.

  “How embarrassing,” I whisper.

  “I’ll always hold your hand, Crazy.”

  Another shot of pain brings me straight back to reality. “It hurts so bad,” I say as I grab my face.

  Miles takes each pill and puts them in my mouth and then forces the water on me. I try to drink from the plastic Scooby-Doo cup, but the faster I pour, the more water escapes the left side of my mouth. I barely get enough water in my mouth to send the pills down the hatch. Miles can’t help but smile at the watery mess sitting on his lap. I try to blow a raspberry at him, but only end up dribbling more water down my own chin.

  I attempt to climb off Miles’ lap to use the restroom only to find that my legs are incredibly shaky and unsteady. The room starts to spin slowly.

  “Easy, tiger.”

  “I need to use the restroom.”

  Without any further harassment, Miles steadies my arm and helps me to his bathroom.

  “I’ve got it from here.”

  My cheeks hit the cool seat of the toilet and I let out an audible sigh of relief. At least I didn’t piss myself in front of Miles. Thanks to being put under, having a tooth pulled, and a root canal, those drug really made me crazy. The shooting pain in my mouth has silenced down to a dull roar, which must mean the pain pills are working.

  I take in the sight of the familiar bathroom. I kind of miss this place, but I definitely don’t miss the love-stricken girl who used to live here. When I did live here, I had lotions, bubble bath, candles and an iPod docking station covering every surface. Miles just has his two-in-one shampoo, Old Spice, and a couple fortunes from his famous stash of cookies lying on the counter.

  I take a quick gander at my reflection in the mirror and notice how puffy my poor left cheek is and how cracked my lips are. I truly look like I’ve been kicked in the face by a mule and then pissed on. The hoodie I’m wearing catches my attention again. It’s Miles’ favorite concert hoodie from Carter Hulsey. His smell and look is covering my body, and it feels so good.

  “Miles, why am I wearing your hoodie?” I shout from the safety of the bathroom.

  Then a thought hits me. Oh my God! I hope I’m wearing clothes under this. It takes all the courage I own to peek down the hoodie. Prying one eye open, I spot my t-shirt. Oh, thank you, God.

  The door flies open to reveal a smiling Miles.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  I throw the hood up over my head, and say, “By the look on your face, forget it.”

  Miles grabs my hand and leads me to the kitchen. “C’mon, you need something in your belly.”

  I follow Miles to the kitchen just like a sick little puppy would follow their owner. This is when I notice that he has his bed in the living room. As I examine the apartment a little closer, I notice that his living space is as atypical as it gets. No couch, no coffee table, no recliners, just a bed, a crate, and a large television. I finally look up to see Miles staring at me, and I just point in the direction of the bed.

  “Miles, was that there before?”

  Miles nods his head up and down as he tips back his box of cereal to create a stream of cereal rushing into his mouth.

  “Why is your bed in your living room?”

  “It’s a childhood dream,” he splutters out around a mouthful of cereal.

  His kitchen has a large fridge box and two white plastic lawn chairs. My head starts to spin and my tummy rolls while the dull pain continues to dance on, in, and around my face. I decide not to ask questions and just grab a seat.

  “Here. You need to eat something before you take your other meds.”

  Miles places yogurt, applesauce, and a fortune cookie in front of me. I shake my head with disgust at all of it. Habit kills me. I pick up the fortune cookie, crack it open, and read the fortune to myself, then slip it in my pocket. He has no clue that I’ve been collecting his fortunes and putting them in my notebook.

  “A good one?”

  I nod and attempt to gum a tiny piece of the cookie.

  “My eyelids are getting heavy. Can I lie down?”

  “Yeah, but finish that cookie.”

  “Do you have a spare bed or a couch in your room?”

  “Nope, it’s a slumber party, Crazy. Jump on board,” Miles says as he points to his king size bed in the living room.

  “You do know that if I was of sound mind that I would be running home, right?”

  “And miss out on this party train? I highly doubt it. I know you secretly want me, Willow.”

  Miles has no idea how close he is to unveiling the truth. I do want him and the chance to love him, my heart just can’t afford another nasty break. Truth be told, I have wanted a chance with him from the first day I met him.

  “I call the side furthest away from the door, so if an ax murderer breaks in, you get killed first,” I say, as I bound onto the bed, feeling no pain now.

  I decide to sleep in the hoodie because I love the smell of Miles on it. Burrowing under the blankets, I take off my shorts and toss them on the floor. His sheets are a freaking slice of heaven. They have to be the softest sheets I’ve felt and the cherry on top is his scent bathing them.

  “I’m not gonna lie, Miles, you are my favorite scent.”

  I peer over the best sheets in the world to see Miles clothed only in tighty whities chugging down orange juice straight from the carton. God damn the man is long and lean with just the right amount of muscle. He’s a walking, talking poster child for a hot-ass, light ya on fire, bad boy mechanic. Right when my eyes go in to take a s
weep of his bulge he catches me staring, and I throw the sheets over my head, creating a shield.

  Ignoring my obvious ogling, Miles says, “Willow, I’m going to put a glass of water and two more pain pills on your side of the bed. You can take two more in four hours.”

  “Thanks.”

  The bed dips down as Miles climbs in.

  “You can come out of your hidey hole, Crazy. It’s okay to admire the goods.”

  I throw back the blankets, pop up, and come face to face with Miles.

  “I wasn’t admiring the goods. I was simply watching you drink orange juice in your barbaric fashion. There’s nothing wong with a girl watching her friend drink oj.”

  “Did you just say ‘wong’?” Miles asks.

  I can’t help but laugh. “Yes, I did. I was hoping you wouldn’t catch it.”

  I lay back in the bed, nestling once again in his sheets. Miles props himself up on his elbow and looks down at me.

  “Two things, Miles. One, why didn’t Cree pick me up? And two, where in the hell did you find a king size Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle bedding set?”

  “One, your appointment took longer than expected and your family had that business trip in Fort Collins, so I volunteered to babysit you. Two, if I told you, I’d have to kill you…”

  Miles rambles on, but I can’t compete with the heaviness pushing down on my eyelids. I let the sound of his voice fill me and I even nod my head to acknowledge that I’m still listening. I hear his phone and then feel him leave the bed. I can barely make out the sound of his voice as I battle to stay awake. I can tell Miles is talking to Cree, or maybe it’s Tripp as I drift in and out of awareness. All signs of my pain are gone and I smile, thinking that all of my physical and emotional pains have disappeared for the time being.

  “Yeah, she’s in bed asleep. She was hurting pretty bad, but I think she’s out for now. Will do. Call ya in the morn. No worries, Tripp. She’ll be fine. Later.”