Page 4 of Late Bloomer
But seriously, are you not coming back tonight? You promised to cover for me
Do you want to get out of here for a girls weekend soon? Or maybe get dinner next week?
I purse my lips as I scroll through the messages, getting whiplash from the rapid jumps between supportive and not-so-subtlyhinting at wanting some sort of reward for giving the ticket to me. For my birthday.
I’m about to show my sisters all the texts when a call lights up the screen.
My head jerks back as I read the name.
“What’s wrong?” Olivia asks.
“It’s Miles,” I say, waving my phone.
“Don’t answer it,” my sisters say in unison as I swipe my finger across the screen and answer the call. I’ve never claimed to have self-respect when it comes to communication with an ex, so might as well stay on brand. Can’t let money change me and all that.
“Hello?” I say, my voice breathy and eager. Like a total fool.
“Opal. My God. It’s so good to hear your voice.”
I all but melt. Objectively, I know hearts and tummies are dirty fucking traitors, but even with all the mental resolve in the world, the second I hear Miles’s familiar voice purr in that tone he knows makes me a little wobbly, a tidal wave of hope roars through my system, poisoning my mind and heating my blood and beckoning at me with a seductive crooked finger.
“I’ve missed you,” Miles says, sweet and tempting like honey.
“Do you need something, Miles?” I ask, trying to sound cool. I’m sure I’m not fooling anyone.
“Nah. Just wanted to check in on you. Been thinking about you.”
My heart twirls then floats heavenward. He’s been thinking about me? All I’ve ever wanted is for someone to think about me.
“I’ve been thinking about you too,” I whisper, dipping my toes in emotional quicksand. But I swear I can hear him smile on the other end. Wicked. Wolfish. Softened with a dimple. And, this time, it’s genuine.
I can also feel my sisters staring daggers at the back of my head, but I’m pretending not to notice. I scuttle across the room, tucking myself into a corner.
“Been thinking a lot aboutustoo,” he says, voice even lower, the words vibrating through my cracked chest.
Us.Who knew two little letters could create such an impact. Whenever I’m part of anusI pour all my energy into theuand make thesstand for sacrifice. It’s not like it does much good, I always seem to end up alone. I have a tendency to get too attached to people too fast, finding even the tiniest thread of connection and plucking it to death.
Miles is the latest in my tapestry of frayed relationships.
“R-really?” I ask, a dangerous swoop of hope in my voice.
“Of course. I… I miss you, Opal. Wanna get coffee tomorrow? Maybe talk about things?”
At this point, my heart is fit to burst. Miles is apathetic by nature, excitement and interest too cringey to indulge in, but I spent the entirety of our relationship bending over backward to try to make him smile, regardless. I nearly tore in two twisting myself into different shapes in the hopes that he’d like one of them. And maybe now, he’s finally seeing what he lost when he told me he needed to focus on his music.
“I’d… I’d really like that,” I whisper, biting my lip as I smile.
“Amazing. Waffle House?”
Jesus, I’m a swoon risk. “Perfect.”
There’s a pause that stretches a beat too long. “So… anything new?” Miles asks, his tone the epitome of casual.
“Ummm?” It’s not like Miles to ask about my day. Or ask any questions at all, to be honest. “Not really. Why?” I respond, for once choosing to have caution with this stupid boy who always has me wrapped around his finger.
“Just curious. Just curious. Like I said, been thinking about you.”
Another pause.
