Page 23 of Chasing You

Yeah, look at me. The guy who doesn’t have one place to call home anymore. The guy who spends every night in a different hotel room, staring up at the ceiling, trying to fight off the waves of loneliness that inevitably crash over me. The guy who has nothing going for him except one word: Captain.

“Dad,” I stop in my tracks, “Isla’s painting is nothing short of incredible. She has made a life here, one that we should all be envious of. She’s doing what she loves, with someone that she loves, I mean, look at her.” I point to where Caio dips Isla in the center of the room, a bright laugh escaping her as he pulls her back up to meet him, planting a loving kiss against her teeth because she is still smiling. “That is what life is supposed to feel like.”

As I say the words out loud, they hit me back in my gut. Like a boomerang I threw out expecting it not to come right back and hit me in the face.

That is what life is supposed to feel like.And mine doesn’t feel like that, not even close. I’ve only ever felt a glimpse.

My dad does me the favour of keeping quiet. I know he will never see it, see her. Not truly. He’s blind to her joy; the only thing he’s able to see is success, and I’m glowing with it.

I feel a hand brush my shoulder, and I turn to see my mom standing beside me.

“Will you dance with your mother?” She nods out to the dance floor, where I can see everyone joining the happy couple on the dance floor.

Caio is approached by an older woman with dark hair whose smile beams when he takes her hand to give her a spin. My dad walks over to Isla and all I can do is hope that he doesn’t say something stupid.

“Sure, Mom.”

She grabs my hand and pulls me out onto the dance floor. “That conversation looked a little intense.”

“Oh, we were just talking about, uh…the honeymoon. We thought Isla and Caio were going to different places, it was silly really.”

“Oh, okay.” How she bought that, I’m not sure, but I didn’t want to relive the conversation knowing she’d just add to it.

“You should’ve offered to fly them to Australia yourself, what a missed opportunity.”

I chuff a laugh. “Yeah, I could’ve. But I’ve got a flight to Tokyo in a few days.”

“Tokyo, huh? You fly so often out of the country, don’t you miss being at home?”

I refrain from telling her that the cockpit feels more like home these days than my bedroom at my parents’ house. No place feels like home when you move around so much.

“I like being able to travel the world.” The words sound so mechanical, but my mother eats them up nonetheless.

I zone out as she begins telling me about the women at the country club, the ones who all have daughters who would suit me undeniably. She glazes over the fact that half of the country club daughters are freshly eighteen. She’s really desperate if she’s ready to face cradle-snatching accusations. She goes on and on, and I don’t even know what she’s saying anymore. Not as my eyes catch on olive skin wrapped in forest green.

I slip out of my mom’s grasp, muttering a halfhearted ‘sorry’ as I follow Marina through the crowd as she heads toward the ballroom doors. She is probably going to the bathroom, but that doesn’t stop me from following her.

“Marina,” I say, reaching out and letting my fingers wrap loosely around her forearm.

She turns around, and as soon as she sees me, she freezes. It’s almost like time stops as her eyes lock on where our skin connects. I rub my thumb back and forth ever so slightly. I don’t know why I do it. It’s like my body doesn’t know how to be in her proximity when we aren’tus. That’s all I know how to be aroundher. I’m not sure how to be anything else, how to navigate being around her in any other way.

She slips her arm from my grasp, turning and pushing on the door with the image of a woman on the front.

I wait a beat, staring at the wooden door before I push on it myself. When I walk in, I see Marina standing in front of the mirror, her gaze jumps to mine in the reflection, and as soon as she sees me, she backs up. “You know, some people might call this harassment.”

It sounds ridiculous, but with just that sentence alone, I realize she doesn’t know how to not be us either. Because if Marina D’Angelo really felt like I was harassing her, she would’ve punched me in the throat by now.

“And some people might call it desperation. It’s lucky that I don't care about what other people think.”

“You can’t just come into the girl's bathroom and corner me into a conversation, Miles.” Her eyebrows raise as she says my name, and a wave of grief washes over me at the sound of it. God, how I’ve missed the sound of my name on her lips.

The sound of the door opening again stops me from answering as a woman walks into the room with us. She stops when she sees me, her eyes darting between the two of us, but lingering on me, the man standing in the middle of the women’s bathroom.

“You can leave now,” Marina says, her hip popping out as she folds her arms.There’s that assertiveness I know so well.

I should be doing as she says, but my feet are stuck in place. “Miles, fuck off so this woman can pee in peace.”

I nearly scoff at how straightforward she is, how borderline mean she’s being right now—not that I don’t deserve it. But at the same time, all I can focus on is how much I used to love this side of her, how it felt like a challenge to get her to soften for me, and how she always would.

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