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I creep up the stairs. Light footsteps, but they still sound so fucking loud. All the doors in the hallway are closed, but there's sound and light coming from one of them. Must be Tom's room.
"It's casual. She understands that," Miles says.
"You just spent Thanksgiving with her."
"So?"
"Then you bring her here for the rest of the weekend." Tom sighs. "How is that casual?"
"Sorry you can't wrap your brain around hanging out with a girl after you've fucked her. I understand, though. Not like any girl ever gave you the chance."
"Get off it, asshole. At least I'm honest about things being no strings attached."
Someone pushes against the door. I shrink backwards. There's nowhere to hide, so I press myself against the wall.
There's no movement from the door. No one is leaving.
Miles starts. "I've got it under control. No spinning out, no relapsing, nothing. I'm as clean as… well, clean isn't your strong suit, so I can't find the perfect metaphor."
"You remember what happened last time you lost someone you cared about?"
"That was my uncle. Not some girl."
My heart thuds against my chest. My mind reels, trying to piece this together to come up with a proper response. I'm not some girl.
Does he really think that?
"You keeping running off, spending weekends by yourself. Or with her. I don't fucking know." Tom's voice is heavy. "She deserves to know what she's dealing with."
"There's no dealing. I've been fine for the last fucking year."
"Yeah? What about after that girl in Detroit?"
"What about her?" Miles snaps.
"Found you face down on your bed next to a half empty bottle of vodka and God, I don’t even know what else you took. Only that it was enough you nearly went into a coma. Was that doing well?"
"She threatened to kill herself. That's a sensitive issue for me."
"Are you fucking blind? Even I see it. That girl is crazy about you. What happens when you fuck things up? What if she threatens to kill herself because she can't live without you?"
Relapse. Vodka. Enough drugs to go into a coma. Prescription opiates and alcohol are a dangerous combination.
The words rattle around my brain. Miles could be an alcoholic. A drug addict. But he's so casual about not drinking, and after what I said about Rosie… how much watching that hurt, how much I can't stand being around drugs… he would've told me.
That can't be right.
"Meg isn't like that," Miles says. "She doesn't even drink."
Tom makes that harrumph sound that usually means yeah right.
"It's just sex. That's how she wants it."
"You met her fucking parents!"
"And?"
"You need to tell her you're a drug addict."
