Oh, wow.
That was an oddly sexy sentence. So was his presence in delivering it.
Still no smile, though. Jesus Christ, this man. Does he not realize that facial expressions are supposed to accompany speech?
I dont want him to see my disappointment, so I turn back toward the sink. I use the sprayer to wash the remaining suds down the drain. I find it quite fitting, considering the weird vibes floating around his kitchen. How long have you lived here? I ask, attempting to alleviate the awkward silence as I turn and face him again.
Four years.
I dont know why I laugh, but I do. He raises an eyebrow, confused about why his answer caused me to laugh.
Its just that your apartment … I glance toward the living room, then back to him. Its kind of bland. I thought maybe you just moved in and havent had a chance to decorate.
I didnt mean for that to come out like an insult, but thats exactly how it sounded. Im just trying to make conversation, but I think Im only making this awkwardness worse.
His eyes move slowly around his apartment as he processes my comment. I wish I could take it back, but I dont even try. Id probably just make it worse.
I work a lot, he says. I never have company, so I guess it just hasnt been a priority.
I want to ask him why he never has company, but certain questions seem off limits to him. Speaking of company, whats up with Dillon?
Miles shrugs his shoulders, leaning his back completely against the refrigerator. Dillons an as**ole who has no respect for his wife, he says flatly. He turns around completely and walks out of the kitchen, heading toward his bedroom. He pushes his bedroom door closed but leaves it open just enough so that I can still hear him speak. Thought Id warn you before you fell for his act.
I dont fall for acts, I say. Especially acts like Dillons.
Good, he says.
Good? Ha. Miles doesnt want me to like Dillon. I love that Miles doesnt want me to like Dillon.
Corbin wouldnt like it if you started something up with him. He hates Dillon.
Oh. He doesnt want me to like Dillon for Corbins sake. Why did that just disappoint me?
He walks back out of his bedroom, and hes no longer in his jeans and T-shirt. Hes in a familiar pair of slacks and a crisp, white shirt, unbuttoned and open.
Hes putting on a pilots uniform.
Youre a pilot? I ask, somewhat perplexed. My voice makes me sound oddly impressed.
He nods and walks into the laundry room adjacent to the kitchen. Thats how I know Corbin, he says. We were in flight school together. He walks back into his kitchen with a laundry basket and sets it on the counter. Hes a good guy.
His shirt isnt buttoned.
Im staring at his stomach.
Stop staring at his stomach.
Oh my word, he has the V.Those beautiful indentations on men that run the length of their outer abdominal muscles, disappearing beneath their jeans as if the indentations are pointing to a secret bulls-eye.
Jesus Christ, Tate, youre staring at his damn crotch!
Hes buttoning his shirt now, so I somehow gain superhuman strength and force my eyes to look back up at his face.
Thoughts. I should have some of those, but I cant find them. Maybe its because I just found out hes an airline pilot.
But why would that impress me?
It doesnt impress me that Dillons a pilot. But then again, I didnt find out Dillon was a pilot while he was doing laundry and flaunting his abs. A guy folding laundry while flaunting his abs and being a pilot is seriously impressive.
Miles is fully dressed now. Hes putting on his shoes, and Im watching him like Im in a theater and hes the main attraction.
Is that safe? I ask, finding a coherent thought somehow. Youve been drinking with the guys, and now youre about to be at the controls of a commercial jet?
Miles zips his jacket, then picks up an already packed duffel bag from the floor. Ive only had water tonight, he says, right before exiting the kitchen. Im not much of a drinker. And I definitely dont drink on work nights.
I laugh and follow him toward the living room. I walk to the table to grab my things. I think youre forgetting how we met, I say. Move-in day? Someone-passed-out-drunk-in-the-hallway day?
He opens the front door to let me out. I have no idea what youre talking about, Tate, he says. We met on an elevator. Remember?
I cant tell if hes kidding, because theres no smile or gleam in his eyes.
He closes the door behind us. I hand him back his apartment key, and he locks his door. I walk to mine and open it.
Tate?
I almost pretend I dont hear him just so hell have to say my name again. Instead, I turn around and face him, pretending to be completely unaffected by this man.
That night you found me in the hallway? That was an exception. A very rare exception.
Theres something unspoken in his eyes and maybe even in his voice.
He stands paused at his front door, poised to walk toward the elevators. Hes waiting to see if I have anything to say in response. I should tell him goodbye. Maybe I should tell him to have a safe flight. That could be considered bad luck, though. I should just say good night.
Was the exception because of what happened with Rachel?
Yes. I really just chose to say that instead.
WHY did I just say that?
His posture changes. His expression freezes, as if my words jolted him with a bolt of lightning. Hes more than likely confused that I said that, because he obviously doesnt remember anything about that night.
Quick, Tate. Recover.
You thought I was someone named Rachel, I blurt out, explaining away the awkwardness as best I can. I just thought maybe something happened between the two of you and thats why … you know.
Miles inhales a deep breath, but he tries to hide it. I hit a nerve.
We dont talk about Rachel, apparently.
Good night, Tate, he says, turning away.
I cant tell what just happened. Did I embarrass him? Piss him off? Make him sad?
Whatever I did, I hate this thing now. This awkwardness thats filling the space between my door and the elevator hes now standing in front of.
I walk inside my apartment and close my door, but the awkwardness is everywhere. It didnt remain out in the hallway.
Chapter six
MILES
Six years earlier
We eat dinner, but its awkward.
Lisa and Dad try to include us in the conversation, but neither
of us is in the mood to talk. We stare at our plates. We push
around the food with our forks.
We dont want to eat.
Dad asks Lisa if she wants to go sit out back.
Lisa says yes.
Lisa asks Rachel to help me clear the table.
Rachel says okay.
We take the plates to the kitchen.
Were quiet.
Rachel leans against the counter while I load the dishwasher.
She watches me do my best to ignore her. She doesnt realize
shes everywhere. Shes in everything. Every single thing has
just become Rachel.
Its consuming me.
My thoughts arent thoughts anymore.
My thoughts are Rachel.
I cant fall in love with you, Rachel.
I look at the sink. I want to look at Rachel.
I breathe in air. I want to breathe in Rachel.
I close my eyes. I only see Rachel.
I wash my hands. I want to touch Rachel.
I dry my hands on a towel before turning around to face her.
Her hands are gripping the counter behind her. Mine are
folded across my chest.
Theyre the worst parents in the world, she whispers.
Her voice cracks.
My heart cracks.
Despicable, I say to her.
She laughs.
Im not supposed to fall in love with your laugh, Rachel.
She sighs. I fall in love with that, too.
How long have they been seeing each other? I ask her.
Shell be honest.
She shrugs. About a year. Its been long-distance until she
moved us here to be closer to him.
I feel my mothers heart breaking.
We hate him.
A year? I ask. Are you sure?
She nods.
She doesnt know about my mother. I can tell.
Rachel?
I say her name out loud, just like Ive wanted to do since the
second I met her.
She continues to look directly at me. She swallows, then
breathes out a shallow Yeah?
I step toward her.
Her body reacts. She stands taller but not by much. She
breathes heavier but not by much. Her cheeks grow redder but
not by much.
Its all just enough.
My hand fits her waist. My eyes search hers.
They dont tell me no, so I do.
When my lips touch hers, its so many things. Its good and bad
and right and wrong and
revenge.
She inhales, stealing some of my breaths. I breathe into her,
giving her more. Our tongues touch and our guilt intertwines
and my fingers slide through the hair God made specifically
for her.
My new favorite flavor is Rachel.
My new favorite thing is Rachel.
I want Rachel for my birthday. I want Rachel for Christmas. I
want Rachel for graduation.
Rachel, Rachel, Rachel.
Im gonna fall in love with you anyway, Rachel.
The back door opens.
I release Rachel.
She releases me but only physically. I can still feel her in every
other way.
I look away from her, but everything is still Rachel.
Lisa walks into the kitchen. She looks happy.
She has a right to be happy. Shes not the one who died.
Lisa tells Rachel its time to go.
I tell them both goodbye, but my words are only for Rachel.
She knows this.
I finish the dishes.
I tell my father Lisa was nice.
I dont tell him I hate him yet. Maybe I never will. I dont
know what good it would do to let him know that I dont see
him the same way anymore.
Now hes just … normal. Human.
Maybe thats the rite of passage before you become a man
realizing your father doesnt have life figured out any more
than you do.
I go to my room. I take out my phone, and I text Rachel.
Me: What do we do about tomorrow night?
Rachel: We lie to them?
Me: Can you meet me at seven?
Rachel: Yes.
Me: Rachel?
Rachel: Yeah?
Me: Good night.
Rachel: Good night, Miles.
I turn off my phone, because I want that to be the last text I
receive for the night. I close my eyes.
Im falling, Rachel.
Chapter seven
TATE
Its been two weeks since Ive seen Miles but only two seconds since the last time Ive thought about him. He seems to work just as much as Corbin does, and while its nice to have the place to myself occasionally, its also nice when Corbin isnt working and theres actually someone to talk to. I would say its nice when Corbin and Miles are both off work, but that hasnt happened since Ive lived here.
Until now.
His dad is working, and hes off until Monday, Corbin says. I had no idea hed invited Miles to come back home with us for Thanksgiving until just now. Hes knocking on Miless apartment door. He doesnt have anything else to do.
Im pretty sure I nod after hearing those words, but I turn and walk straight toward the elevator. Im afraid that when Miles opens his door, my excitement over the fact that hes coming with us will be transparent.
Im on the elevator, at the far back wall, when they both step on. Miles finds me and nods, but thats all I get. The last time I spoke to him, I made things completely awkward between us, so I dont say a word. I also try not to stare at him, but its extremely difficult to focus on anything else. Hes casually dressed in a baseball cap, jeans, and a 49ers T-shirt. I think thats why I find him hard to look away from, though, because Ive always found guys more attractive when they put less effort into trying to appear attractive.
My eyes leave his clothes and meet his concentrated stare. I dont know whether to smile in embarrassment or look away, so I just choose to copy his next move, waiting for him to look away first.
He doesnt. He continues to watch me in silence for the remainder of the elevator ride, and I stubbornly do the same. When we finally make it to the ground floor, Im relieved he steps off first, because I have to inhale a pretty noticeable breath, considering I havent inhaled in at least sixty seconds.
Where you three headed? Cap asks once were all off the elevator.
Home to San Diego, Corbin says. You have any plans for Thanksgiving?
Gonna be a busy day for flights, Cap says. Reckon Ill be here working. He winks in my direction, and I wink back before he shifts his attention toward Miles. How about you, boy? You headed home yourself?
Miles silently watches Cap in the same way he silently stared at me on the elevator. This disappoints me tremendously, because on the elevator, I had a small glimmer of hope that Miles was staring at me like he was because he feels the same pull to me that I feel when Im around him. But now, watching his visual standoff with Cap, Im almost certain it doesnt mean Miles is attracted to a person simply because he stares unabashedly. Miles apparently just looks at everyone this way. A very silent and awkward five seconds follows, with neither of them speaking. Maybe Miles doesnt like being referred to as boy?
Have a good Thanksgiving, Cap, Miles finally utters, not even bothering to answer Caps question. He turns and begins walking through the lobby with Corbin.
I look at Cap and shrug my shoulders. Wish me luck, I say quietly. Seems Mr. Archer might be having another bad day.
Cap smiles. Nah, he says, backing up a step toward his chair. Some people just dont like questions is all. He falls into his chair. He gives me a farewell salute, and I salute him back before walking toward the exit.
That was an oddly sexy sentence. So was his presence in delivering it.
Still no smile, though. Jesus Christ, this man. Does he not realize that facial expressions are supposed to accompany speech?
I dont want him to see my disappointment, so I turn back toward the sink. I use the sprayer to wash the remaining suds down the drain. I find it quite fitting, considering the weird vibes floating around his kitchen. How long have you lived here? I ask, attempting to alleviate the awkward silence as I turn and face him again.
Four years.
I dont know why I laugh, but I do. He raises an eyebrow, confused about why his answer caused me to laugh.
Its just that your apartment … I glance toward the living room, then back to him. Its kind of bland. I thought maybe you just moved in and havent had a chance to decorate.
I didnt mean for that to come out like an insult, but thats exactly how it sounded. Im just trying to make conversation, but I think Im only making this awkwardness worse.
His eyes move slowly around his apartment as he processes my comment. I wish I could take it back, but I dont even try. Id probably just make it worse.
I work a lot, he says. I never have company, so I guess it just hasnt been a priority.
I want to ask him why he never has company, but certain questions seem off limits to him. Speaking of company, whats up with Dillon?
Miles shrugs his shoulders, leaning his back completely against the refrigerator. Dillons an as**ole who has no respect for his wife, he says flatly. He turns around completely and walks out of the kitchen, heading toward his bedroom. He pushes his bedroom door closed but leaves it open just enough so that I can still hear him speak. Thought Id warn you before you fell for his act.
I dont fall for acts, I say. Especially acts like Dillons.
Good, he says.
Good? Ha. Miles doesnt want me to like Dillon. I love that Miles doesnt want me to like Dillon.
Corbin wouldnt like it if you started something up with him. He hates Dillon.
Oh. He doesnt want me to like Dillon for Corbins sake. Why did that just disappoint me?
He walks back out of his bedroom, and hes no longer in his jeans and T-shirt. Hes in a familiar pair of slacks and a crisp, white shirt, unbuttoned and open.
Hes putting on a pilots uniform.
Youre a pilot? I ask, somewhat perplexed. My voice makes me sound oddly impressed.
He nods and walks into the laundry room adjacent to the kitchen. Thats how I know Corbin, he says. We were in flight school together. He walks back into his kitchen with a laundry basket and sets it on the counter. Hes a good guy.
His shirt isnt buttoned.
Im staring at his stomach.
Stop staring at his stomach.
Oh my word, he has the V.Those beautiful indentations on men that run the length of their outer abdominal muscles, disappearing beneath their jeans as if the indentations are pointing to a secret bulls-eye.
Jesus Christ, Tate, youre staring at his damn crotch!
Hes buttoning his shirt now, so I somehow gain superhuman strength and force my eyes to look back up at his face.
Thoughts. I should have some of those, but I cant find them. Maybe its because I just found out hes an airline pilot.
But why would that impress me?
It doesnt impress me that Dillons a pilot. But then again, I didnt find out Dillon was a pilot while he was doing laundry and flaunting his abs. A guy folding laundry while flaunting his abs and being a pilot is seriously impressive.
Miles is fully dressed now. Hes putting on his shoes, and Im watching him like Im in a theater and hes the main attraction.
Is that safe? I ask, finding a coherent thought somehow. Youve been drinking with the guys, and now youre about to be at the controls of a commercial jet?
Miles zips his jacket, then picks up an already packed duffel bag from the floor. Ive only had water tonight, he says, right before exiting the kitchen. Im not much of a drinker. And I definitely dont drink on work nights.
I laugh and follow him toward the living room. I walk to the table to grab my things. I think youre forgetting how we met, I say. Move-in day? Someone-passed-out-drunk-in-the-hallway day?
He opens the front door to let me out. I have no idea what youre talking about, Tate, he says. We met on an elevator. Remember?
I cant tell if hes kidding, because theres no smile or gleam in his eyes.
He closes the door behind us. I hand him back his apartment key, and he locks his door. I walk to mine and open it.
Tate?
I almost pretend I dont hear him just so hell have to say my name again. Instead, I turn around and face him, pretending to be completely unaffected by this man.
That night you found me in the hallway? That was an exception. A very rare exception.
Theres something unspoken in his eyes and maybe even in his voice.
He stands paused at his front door, poised to walk toward the elevators. Hes waiting to see if I have anything to say in response. I should tell him goodbye. Maybe I should tell him to have a safe flight. That could be considered bad luck, though. I should just say good night.
Was the exception because of what happened with Rachel?
Yes. I really just chose to say that instead.
WHY did I just say that?
His posture changes. His expression freezes, as if my words jolted him with a bolt of lightning. Hes more than likely confused that I said that, because he obviously doesnt remember anything about that night.
Quick, Tate. Recover.
You thought I was someone named Rachel, I blurt out, explaining away the awkwardness as best I can. I just thought maybe something happened between the two of you and thats why … you know.
Miles inhales a deep breath, but he tries to hide it. I hit a nerve.
We dont talk about Rachel, apparently.
Good night, Tate, he says, turning away.
I cant tell what just happened. Did I embarrass him? Piss him off? Make him sad?
Whatever I did, I hate this thing now. This awkwardness thats filling the space between my door and the elevator hes now standing in front of.
I walk inside my apartment and close my door, but the awkwardness is everywhere. It didnt remain out in the hallway.
Chapter six
MILES
Six years earlier
We eat dinner, but its awkward.
Lisa and Dad try to include us in the conversation, but neither
of us is in the mood to talk. We stare at our plates. We push
around the food with our forks.
We dont want to eat.
Dad asks Lisa if she wants to go sit out back.
Lisa says yes.
Lisa asks Rachel to help me clear the table.
Rachel says okay.
We take the plates to the kitchen.
Were quiet.
Rachel leans against the counter while I load the dishwasher.
She watches me do my best to ignore her. She doesnt realize
shes everywhere. Shes in everything. Every single thing has
just become Rachel.
Its consuming me.
My thoughts arent thoughts anymore.
My thoughts are Rachel.
I cant fall in love with you, Rachel.
I look at the sink. I want to look at Rachel.
I breathe in air. I want to breathe in Rachel.
I close my eyes. I only see Rachel.
I wash my hands. I want to touch Rachel.
I dry my hands on a towel before turning around to face her.
Her hands are gripping the counter behind her. Mine are
folded across my chest.
Theyre the worst parents in the world, she whispers.
Her voice cracks.
My heart cracks.
Despicable, I say to her.
She laughs.
Im not supposed to fall in love with your laugh, Rachel.
She sighs. I fall in love with that, too.
How long have they been seeing each other? I ask her.
Shell be honest.
She shrugs. About a year. Its been long-distance until she
moved us here to be closer to him.
I feel my mothers heart breaking.
We hate him.
A year? I ask. Are you sure?
She nods.
She doesnt know about my mother. I can tell.
Rachel?
I say her name out loud, just like Ive wanted to do since the
second I met her.
She continues to look directly at me. She swallows, then
breathes out a shallow Yeah?
I step toward her.
Her body reacts. She stands taller but not by much. She
breathes heavier but not by much. Her cheeks grow redder but
not by much.
Its all just enough.
My hand fits her waist. My eyes search hers.
They dont tell me no, so I do.
When my lips touch hers, its so many things. Its good and bad
and right and wrong and
revenge.
She inhales, stealing some of my breaths. I breathe into her,
giving her more. Our tongues touch and our guilt intertwines
and my fingers slide through the hair God made specifically
for her.
My new favorite flavor is Rachel.
My new favorite thing is Rachel.
I want Rachel for my birthday. I want Rachel for Christmas. I
want Rachel for graduation.
Rachel, Rachel, Rachel.
Im gonna fall in love with you anyway, Rachel.
The back door opens.
I release Rachel.
She releases me but only physically. I can still feel her in every
other way.
I look away from her, but everything is still Rachel.
Lisa walks into the kitchen. She looks happy.
She has a right to be happy. Shes not the one who died.
Lisa tells Rachel its time to go.
I tell them both goodbye, but my words are only for Rachel.
She knows this.
I finish the dishes.
I tell my father Lisa was nice.
I dont tell him I hate him yet. Maybe I never will. I dont
know what good it would do to let him know that I dont see
him the same way anymore.
Now hes just … normal. Human.
Maybe thats the rite of passage before you become a man
realizing your father doesnt have life figured out any more
than you do.
I go to my room. I take out my phone, and I text Rachel.
Me: What do we do about tomorrow night?
Rachel: We lie to them?
Me: Can you meet me at seven?
Rachel: Yes.
Me: Rachel?
Rachel: Yeah?
Me: Good night.
Rachel: Good night, Miles.
I turn off my phone, because I want that to be the last text I
receive for the night. I close my eyes.
Im falling, Rachel.
Chapter seven
TATE
Its been two weeks since Ive seen Miles but only two seconds since the last time Ive thought about him. He seems to work just as much as Corbin does, and while its nice to have the place to myself occasionally, its also nice when Corbin isnt working and theres actually someone to talk to. I would say its nice when Corbin and Miles are both off work, but that hasnt happened since Ive lived here.
Until now.
His dad is working, and hes off until Monday, Corbin says. I had no idea hed invited Miles to come back home with us for Thanksgiving until just now. Hes knocking on Miless apartment door. He doesnt have anything else to do.
Im pretty sure I nod after hearing those words, but I turn and walk straight toward the elevator. Im afraid that when Miles opens his door, my excitement over the fact that hes coming with us will be transparent.
Im on the elevator, at the far back wall, when they both step on. Miles finds me and nods, but thats all I get. The last time I spoke to him, I made things completely awkward between us, so I dont say a word. I also try not to stare at him, but its extremely difficult to focus on anything else. Hes casually dressed in a baseball cap, jeans, and a 49ers T-shirt. I think thats why I find him hard to look away from, though, because Ive always found guys more attractive when they put less effort into trying to appear attractive.
My eyes leave his clothes and meet his concentrated stare. I dont know whether to smile in embarrassment or look away, so I just choose to copy his next move, waiting for him to look away first.
He doesnt. He continues to watch me in silence for the remainder of the elevator ride, and I stubbornly do the same. When we finally make it to the ground floor, Im relieved he steps off first, because I have to inhale a pretty noticeable breath, considering I havent inhaled in at least sixty seconds.
Where you three headed? Cap asks once were all off the elevator.
Home to San Diego, Corbin says. You have any plans for Thanksgiving?
Gonna be a busy day for flights, Cap says. Reckon Ill be here working. He winks in my direction, and I wink back before he shifts his attention toward Miles. How about you, boy? You headed home yourself?
Miles silently watches Cap in the same way he silently stared at me on the elevator. This disappoints me tremendously, because on the elevator, I had a small glimmer of hope that Miles was staring at me like he was because he feels the same pull to me that I feel when Im around him. But now, watching his visual standoff with Cap, Im almost certain it doesnt mean Miles is attracted to a person simply because he stares unabashedly. Miles apparently just looks at everyone this way. A very silent and awkward five seconds follows, with neither of them speaking. Maybe Miles doesnt like being referred to as boy?
Have a good Thanksgiving, Cap, Miles finally utters, not even bothering to answer Caps question. He turns and begins walking through the lobby with Corbin.
I look at Cap and shrug my shoulders. Wish me luck, I say quietly. Seems Mr. Archer might be having another bad day.
Cap smiles. Nah, he says, backing up a step toward his chair. Some people just dont like questions is all. He falls into his chair. He gives me a farewell salute, and I salute him back before walking toward the exit.
