AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Tom was just running his mouth off. It was nothing."
"If it was nothing, tell me." I take a deep breath. I have to be strong here. I have to resist how much I want him. "I only left with you because you said you'd talk to me."
He runs a hand through his hair. His brow knots with frustration.
"Miles. We agreed. No secrets. No lies. I heard you two talking. He asked if you'd told me something. He threatened to tell me if you didn't."
"It's nothing." Miles sits next to me. His eyes turn to the ground. His voice softens. "Tom is nosy. That's it."
"If it's nothing, tell me."
"I can't talk about that." He leans closer. "That's how it is. We agreed that this is casual."
"We agreed not to keep secrets."
His eyes darken. "I'm not talking about that. Take it or leave it." His voice drops to something. It's needy. "This isn't supposed to be complicated."
"You're the one making it complicated." I push myself off the bed and press my back against the wall. It only puts three feet between me and Miles. That's about as good as I can do in this apartment. "Why won't you tell me if it's nothing?"
"Meg. Don't do this. We have a good thing here."
"You're the one doing it." I pull the sheet tighter around my chest. "You asked me if I trust you. I do. I want to keep trusting you. Please. Just tell me."
He swallows hard. "I can't."
"Then you need to leave."
Miles pushes himself to his feet. His eyes meet mine. "Wouldn't you rather I leave after?"
"I'm not in the mood anymore." No matter how much my body objects.
"This is supposed to be fun."
"Yeah, well it's not fun for me anymore." I press my palm flat against his chest. "If you're not going to tell me then fucking leave."
"Meg..."
"Now."
He holds my gaz
e for a moment. There's something in his eyes—that same hurt I saw earlier—but he blinks and it's gone.
I press my eyelids together.
The door slams shut.
That’s it. He’s gone.
I'm affecting him.
But somehow it's not any consolation.
Chapter Eighteen
Routine washes away any hint of Miles. I go to class. I go to work. I go to Kara's on Sunday and try to avoid any topic related to men or music—especially men who make music.
The goal proves impossible. She turns twenty-one at the end of October, and she's throwing a birthday-slash-Halloween-slash-week-before-midterms party at the Sinful Mansion in Hollywood. I consider calling Drew and begging him to take over my duties as best friend.
