Page 156 of After All This Time

"I miss you, but I'm okay." He stubs out his cigarette before dragging his fingers through his hair, and my eyes track every flex of muscle like I'm dying of thirst. "Don't look at me like that."

"I can't help it." The words come out breathier than I mean them to. He reaches for another cigarette, and I snap. "Don't you dare."

"Then you better distract me, baby, because I'm climbing the walls here. All I'm doing is fucking my fist thinking about you or chain-smoking just to keep myself from losing my mind with how much I'm missing you."

This is what distance does—it turns desire into desperation and love into an ache so deep it feels like you're sinking.

"Hey, baby, look at me." Our eyes meet through the screen, and his blues are almost swallowed by black. "Is there any way you can get a little time off work?"

He blows out a breath, and for a second, I can see every ounce of tension etched into his body. "I'm fucking swamped, Mills," he admits, his voice rough and raw, "but let me figure some shit out. Because, baby, I'm not doing too good. And it's not the loneliness or the abandonment crap that people might think. It's just… not having you here." He pauses, and his jaw tightens like he's trying to pull it together, but his next words come out broken. "Fuck, baby, thirty-seven days and nights without you is so fucking long. Maybe that's nothing to anyone else; maybe it makes me sound pathetic, but this shit is hard."

"I know."

Through the screen, I watch him hurting, and my hands itch with the need to touch him, to smooth away the shadows under his eyes. "I just wish I could do something to help you right now."

"Jesus, you shouldn't have to… I'm sorry, Mills. I shouldn't be dumping this on you," he replies, clearly frustrated with himself.

"You absolutely should." I cut him off, my voice firm enough to stop his spiral. Because that's what we do—we catch each other before the fall. "You're always there for me when I'm having my worst days. So let me be here for you now."

"Just keep talking to me, Firefly." There's a pause, and I hear the telltale click of his lighter. "Don't yell, but I'm lighting up."

"Fine," I say, knowing some battles aren't worth fighting, especially when he's like this. "I meant to tell you—I'm inPennsylvaniain a couple of weeks, and my mom's asked me to get tickets for her."

"So Kayla's actually pulling her head out of her ass long enough to come and watch you perform?"

"Yeah," I reply, still wrapping my head around it myself. "Her and David both are."

"Well, she definitely hasn't told my dad about us," he says with a dry laugh. "Because there’s no way he wouldn't have blown up my phone—or possibly my entire fucking life—if he knew."

"You think he's going to take it that badly?"

"Yeah, Firefly, but only because they care too much about what people think. This thing between us will have people whispering, and all they'll focus on is how it looks on them. Like we're some dirty little secret they need to sweep under their designer fucking rugs."

"I could maybe understand it if we'd grown up together as kids,"I say, picking at a loose thread on my hotel comforter. "But we didn't. We both already had raging hormones when we met, and let's be honest—I wasn't exactly blind to you."

His lips curve into that devastating smirk—the one that makes my insides melt, no matter how many times I've seen it. "Imagine the fun we could've had if you'd opened your damn mouth."

"Please. You would've laughed in my face and gone back to sneaking whatever girl was in your room out the window."

"I never would've laughed at you, Mills. But it never crossed my mind that this could happen between us."

"Because you weren't attracted to me, and that's okay."

"You've always been beautiful,"he says, his voice low as he takes the last drag of his cigarette, the glow of the ember flickering once more before he exhales a cloud of smoke.

"That's not true, and we both know it."My laugh comes out hollow, but he doesn't join in.

"If I didn't mean it, I wouldn't say it,"he says, his voice rough like gravel. "I just wish—"

"Don't." I cut him off before he can venture down that road. "Because we wouldn't have gotten as close as we did. And even though you left for a while, you were always my person."

His tongue sweeps across his bottom lip as he smirks."Am I still your friend, Mills?"

"You're my best friend."

"Amelia…" he says, and I laugh knowing how much he hates me calling him that.

"What? You are my best friend," I taunt.

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