by Katy Evans
“You don’t. Like you said, you love him. He’s everything to you. So it doesn’t matter, does it? You’ll marry Aaron, no matter what. So I thought to myself, the least I could do is give you that day, that event that you want so badly.”
I shake my head. “You’re insane. I’m calling Aaron right now and calling off the wedding!”
I whirl away from him, stomping toward the bench and sweeping my phone into my hands. I’m glad I have that fifteen percent because that’ll be just enough to call off the wedding and tell him to go to hell. I push open the door and find the signal, then punch in the call.
It rings through to voicemail.
Well, of course. It’s three in the morning.
Although, if Aaron was the one who was stuck in the snow, and our wedding was mere hours away, I’d make sure to keep my ringer on.
All the more reason I need to do this.
Gnashing my teeth, I hang up. I can’t call the wedding off on voicemail.
I wonder if I can call Eva or my mother to wake him up, and that’s when the full weight of what I’m doing hits me.
I’m calling off the wedding.
The wedding my father has spent his whole life’s savings on. The wedding of my dreams. The wedding where five hundred guests will be wishing me and my husband the best, right before we go off into our blissful forever.
If I call off the wedding, I’ll be the laughingstock of everyone I know. Everyone will be talking about the event, and not in a good way. They’ll wonder just what juicy thing made me change my mind. Maybe it’ll leak out eventually that Aaron was a cheater, and they’ll pity me for the rest of my life. No one will ever be able to look at me without thinking of my disastrous almost-wedding.
Not to mention that I’ll leave my parents broke and grandchildless for what might be forever.
I gnaw on my lip and realize, once again, Miles is right.
I’d rather not have known.
Even if…oh, god.
Sniffling and wiping the tears from my cheeks, I go inside, head down.
As I slump into my chair, I feel Miles’ eyes on me. “What happened?”
I pull my knees up to my chest. “He didn’t answer.”
“Ah.”
He says nothing else.
He’s just there: all six feet plus of hot, surly Miles. Occupying space that somehow I want to occupy too; want to get closer to. Making me mad for too many reasons, one of them being that he’s giving me that look that tells me he’s sort of disappointed in me because I didn’t give Aaron a good send-off to hell. I scowl at him. Of course he knew I wouldn’t be able to go through with it. Fucking Dumbledore.
But you know what? He may have been right about everything. But I don’t have to let him be right about this. I have the control here.
I jump off the bench and run back outside, punching in a text. I can call off the wedding via text. If he can stoop so low that he cheats on me right before our wedding, then he doesn’t deserve more.
I write: YOU FUCKING CHEATING, LYING PIECE OF SHIT!! THE WEDDING’S OFF!
Then I press send.
And that’s it.
The second I do it, my finger starts to shake over the button.
Holy shit. Am I really doing this?
I guess I am.
The sky is onyx, and stars are popping out in the sky. No snow at all.
I put my hand on the door to open it, to flaunt the text in front of Miles and tell him I did it, fuck off, he doesn’t know me so well, when my phone starts to ring.
It’s Aaron.
I’m still trying to process everything that’s happened in the past five minutes, but the nuts-kicking feeling hasn’t gone away. I jab the display to answer. “Aaron.”
“What the fuck, babe? What’s going—”
“Don’t call me babe. You read my message. I saw the picture Miles took out of your room. Who’s the girl in it?”
“What picture?” He sounded sleepy before, but now he’s fully awake. “You mean that blonde? I don’t know. Really. I don’t know.”
“Sure, you don’t. She just broke in and slept on your bed? Stark naked?”
“No. I mean, you know when I went to Vegas for business last month? A brother of mine used my place, took the picture, and left it for me as a memento. A joke.”
I don’t hear the rest of the excuse. Sure, it could’ve happened like that, but he has an explanation for everything. Everything is just so convenient. “Miles told me you sent him to destroy the photo.”
“He what?” I can hear him panting on the other end. “Well, fuck. Of course I did. I didn’t want you jumping to conclusions if you found that there.”
“He also said he thinks you fucked a stripper at your bachelor party.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Well, shit. Miles said that? It’s not fucking true.”
“Then why would he say it?”
He lets out a snort of exasperation. “How the fuck should I know? But I guess I can understand it. I didn’t know he’d try to fuck me over so close to the wedding, though. I thought he was over it.”
“Over what?” I bite out.
“You,” he says. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. He’s been after you since that first night. He’s only bitter because I was the one who asked you out first.”
My eyes bulge out of my head. “What?”
“Come on, Lia. Don’t be stupid. You had to have known,” he mutters. “I guess I need to have a talk with him.”
I cringe at the thought of the two of them discussing me. Especially since he’s deflecting from the real issue at hand.
“No, you don’t. This is between the two of us. You always have a perfect explanation for everything. And right now, I’m not sure I can trust you. I don’t want to be married to someone I can’t trust.”
He lets out a breath. “I don’t know what else to do, Lia. You know I turned things around after the last time. And I’m sick of you being suspicious of me. It’s fucking exhausting.”
I want him to fight. I want him to passionately lay out the reasons why I can trust him. I want him to tell me he’s going to drive up this mountain and not bring me down until he’s proven to me what a stand-up guy he is.
“Just—I don’t know. Tell me something that makes me trust you!” I nearly bawl, desperate.
“Like what? There’s nothing I can say. You’re only hearing what you want to hear,” he says, his voice bitter and dull. “You know what? I’m just sick of all this bullshit, it’s over. Done. There’s no wedding. All right? Fuck you, Lia.”
And then he ends the call.
Just like that.
Now, the wedding’s truly off.
Instantly, I feel like a piece of shit. The man I’ve been in love with for five years just told me to fuck off like I was the enemy.
But I don’t cry. Not right away. Maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet.
I don’t know how long I sit out here, in the freezing cold, before Miles comes out. He looks at his phone and sighs. I imagine he must’ve gotten a text from Aaron, because he says, “I don’t think I’m the best man anymore.”
“It doesn’t matter.” My voice is hollow. “There’s no wedding.”
“There’s no wedding?” he repeats, dumbly.
“It’s off.”
He waits for a minute, like he doesn’t believe me, like he expects me to tell him it’s all a practical joke. Then it seems to dawn on him, and he blinks a couple of times and shakes his head as if to clear it. “You’re not kidding. Shit. I’m sorry, Lia.”
So many things are combatting in my head that I can’t formulate a single thought. I’ve been planning this event for over a year, and in the space of a few minutes, our engagement just went poof. I don’t know how to feel.
“Are you?” I look up at him, hurt, confused, hell I don’t even know what I feel…but there’s something more. “Why didn’t you destroy it?”
Miles drags his hands along his beard restlessly and snaps his eyes to mine. “Wh
at?”
“The picture. Aaron wanted you to destroy the evidence. But you didn’t.”
His lips open for a bit, then he drops his hands at his sides and shrugs. “Maybe I thought she was hot.”
That’s a lie. I know it as well as I know my own name. Not only can I tell when Miles is lying, I think I can see through every little thing he’s been doing since I met him. And it all seems so obvious now that I can’t believe I didn’t notice before.
“Aaron told me you…” I stop and take a deep breath, my chest squeezing at the thought. “He said you were lying about the stripper because you were jealous of him.”
His eyes flick to mine. He lets out a short laugh. “Yeah. Right. Because he’s getting married?”
“No. Because he’s marrying me.”
His face turns serious. He’s quiet for a long time, and the only sounds are the wind outside, the vague laugh track from the television, and my own heartbeat.
For a long time, Miles says nothing. Then he says, gruffly and quietly, “What do you think?”
I swallow, feeling my neck and my whole body heat up in embarrassment and…I don’t know what else. “I don’t know what to think. It’s kind of ridiculous. And yet…” All these images are flashing through my head. Of Miles, sitting with me and playing chess while the party raged downstairs. Watching over me during drunken parties. Giving me Twizzlers when I never told him they were my favorite. “Are you?” I insist.
He doesn’t say anything.
“Miles…” I press, gathering up the courage. I take a breath and let it out. “I…” I shake my head, not even believing what I’m going to ask him. What? Whether he likes me? I start stuttering. “Miles. Just call me names,” I beg, “say something. Tell me I’m being ridiculous.”
I almost laugh at how stupid I sound. Like we’re in fourth grade.
He’s not looking at me anymore. His eyes are fastened on some spot on the ground. He’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek like there’s something he doesn’t want to say.
“I’m not lying about the stripper,” he finally says, throwing up his hands. “I wish I was. I wish he treated you better. I wish he treated you the way you deserve to be treated.”
I smile. Well, nice to know one of them has a conscience. “You do?”
He shakes his head slowly, thinking. “Actually…no.”
“No?”
“Yeah. No. Actually, I’m glad he treats you like shit.”
I ball my hands into fists at my sides, fury rising up within me. And here I was thinking that he liked me? “You’re glad?”
He nods. “Fuck yeah.” There’s fire in his eyes, just like there’s a strange fire inside my tummy from the passion in his gaze. “I wish he hadn’t fucked with things the way he did. It was like he wanted to take you from me just to prove he could have you. And then once he did, he dangled you in front of me, treating you like shit, to taunt me. I thought for sure one of these days you’d see that. But all you’ve done, all these years, is turn a blind eye to the shit he does! I have every right to be pissed the hell off.”
I blink, bowled over.
His voice is a low growl. “You know it’s true.”
“I don’t know that. You didn’t care. You fucked me, and then you disappeared. It’s been five years, Miles. You think you could’ve said something after that night, if you cared about him ‘taking me’ from you?”
“You think I knew what the fuck you meant to me then? I had no clue. I was dealing with it, I was dealing with what happened between us, and how the fuck I felt about it—and about you—and next thing I knew, you were out on a date with Aaron.”
I stare at him, shocked. “You disappeared for months.”
“Yeah. That’s how I deal with things. But I remember everything. Lia. Every damned thing. About you, that night, and about the way it tore me up the day I saw you with Aaron. But you know what I remember most? That damn night. You. How fucking crazy you drove me. You were too embarrassed, even drunk, to let me take your top off. Even with that little top you had on, you were shy.”
“I…” I feel myself flush hot all over. I guess it makes sense. I was so young and innocent. But now, I’m older, and Miles can still make a wreck of me with just a glance. Just a word!
“Don’t get me wrong. It was cute. You fucking melted me.” He fists his hands at his sides, the fire glowing more blue now in his eyes. “Your taste, the way you moved on me. You were hot as hell. I liked it. I wanted more.”
My heart is stuttering in my chest. “You did? But…”
“I know, I disappeared. I was confused. I’d never been knocked down like that before. I didn’t know what I was feeling. By the time I realized what I felt was fucking real, you and Aaron were going out and you looked down your nose at me.” He smirks at himself, as if angry. “Figured it was for the best. I thought at least one of us would be happy. But now I don’t know. It’s not getting easier for me. And you love him, but every time he treats you like shit, I feel like I should’ve done more to tell you how I felt. How I feel—present tense.”
“Miles, I…”
I can’t speak. I can hardly rationalize right now.
Miles. The all-powerful asshole, who thinks nobody is good enough for him. Miles, the guy who pushes all my buttons and more. Miles, the one whose touch I’ve never been able to forget. Miles, the guy I never have been able to get over—not really.
So who’s the hypocrite now? Him for not saying anything? Or me, for pretending it hadn’t meant something all this time? For hiding behind a cloak of hate for years when all I really craved was…this?
Him. Now. THIS.
“So that was why I didn’t destroy the picture,” he mutters, jaw clenching in frustration. “I was hoping, even now, that you’d realize what you have with Aaron will never be as good as what you could’ve had with me.”
I’m frozen again. I still can’t speak.
He shoots me a dark look and laughs bitterly. “So you want to know why I don’t have a girlfriend? Why it was always the three of us together? Why I’ve been distancing myself from you two? It’s because I realized that night you were it. You were all I wanted. And every minute I spent with you, watching you in Aaron’s arms, knowing it was supposed to be me with you…it’s only made me more insane, and more and more certain of how fucking totally in love with you I really am.”
I shake my head. “You’re joking, Miles…and it’s not funny. Please don’t joke about this again.” I clutch my stomach, like that’ll stop it from flipping, from burning.
He drags his hands down his face and drops them, shaking his head as he looks at me again. “I wish I was. God, I wish I wasn’t in this hell. Did you know I never had a one-night stand before you? And afterwards, my senior year, I slept with fifty, maybe a hundred girls, trying to fill the hole you’d left there.
“I don’t have high standards. I only have one standard. She has to be you. No one else will ever be enough. I didn’t know what I was feeling that first time I saw you. But I know now, and I’ve known for a long time. Okay, Lia?”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
He’s staring at me, holding my gaze, waiting for me to say something, and all I can think is that he has to be joking. This can’t be real.
Finally, he points to the door and mumbles, “Well, now that I’ve said too much and sufficiently humiliated myself, I’m going to go.”
He yanks open the door with great force and disappears inside.
4:02 AM, December 7
I think we might have slept five minutes, total. I woke up with the sun streaming in through the blinds, his arms wrapped around me, his cock, hard again, nestled against my ass. His fingers entwined with mine, his breathing warm and even on my shoulder.
One, two, three ripped condom packets were scattered over the pristine floor. He’d fed the used ones into an open Budweiser can, the only thing on his night table besides the alarm clock.
It said 7:09 AM. No
wonder the rest of the house was quiet. They were probably all still asleep.
I smiled and rolled over, feeling deliciously sore and well-fucked. Like, I finally got what all the fuss was about sex.
I peered at his face. Surprisingly, he was even hotter in the light of day, with the trace of a five o’clock shadow on his jaw and his messy hair falling in his eyes.
I kissed his cheek, savoring his yummy smell, and his eyes blinked open. “Hey,” he said, his voice gruff. “What time is it?”
“Seven.”
He untangled his body from mine and sat up in bed. “Shit. I’ve got to get to rugby practice.”
“Oh.” I reached for my camisole. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”
He stood up, and we did that little fumbling dance around each other, trying to find our clothes. When I straightened to pull on my camisole, I realized he was watching me—or more specifically, my boobs—with this admiring gleam in his eyes. I never liked my chest, but he seemed to love it.
Suddenly, he nudged me back down onto the bed and fell on top of me. “I kind of like you in my hair. In my hair and in my bed.”
I giggled as he kissed and nuzzled my neck. “I had fun last night.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
He glanced at the clock and grinned at me. “I have a little time. Come here.”
He delved a hand under my abdomen and swung me around on the bed, lifting me over him so that we were in a sixty-nine. This was something I’d really never done before. I’d never had a guy’s cock in my mouth. But as I sucked him off and felt him lapping at my folds, I decided I needed to do this a hell of a lot more often.
I didn’t know cocks well, but this up-close-and-personal examination confirmed it: Miles Foster had an amazing cock.
And the way he was working between my legs, lapping at me like I was the most delicious thing ever while begging me to come on his face, it made me orgasm in record time.
I sucked him off, greedily swallowing his salty cum, another college first for me. Afterwards, we lay there immobile, panting, until I climbed over him and kissed him. We were so fucking salty and sweaty and dirty, and I could tell from the satisfied smile on his face that he didn’t mind one bit.
