Page 73 of Chasing After You
“If you say so.” He shrugs, letting this go far easier than I would have expected. “Then you shouldn’t be bothered that Quinn’s going to ask her out tomorrow, right?” Wilson challenges, calling my bluff.
The blood running through my veins turns to ice at the thought of Quinn asking Mirabelle out. Absolutely fucking not. Wilson laughs, finding this amusing. “Maybe you should go look in a mirror to see how believable it is that you aren’t jealous of him.”
“Fuck off, I’m not jealous.”
I am jealous, and I’m done staring at Mirabelle as she deals with this on her own.
I stand up from the couch as Mirabelle slips under the water, disappearing from my sight. In the time it takes me to walk from the couch to the back door, she still doesn’t come up.What is she doing?I push my sweatpants down, stepping out of them as I pull off my shirt, and then dive into the water.
Mirabelle resurfaces at the same time I do, wiping the water from of her face. “What are you doing?” she asks, her wet hair falling around her shoulders.
“I’m swimming in my pool,” I say, simply because I don’t have a better answer.
She tips her head back, exposing the smooth column of her neck to smooth her hair back from her face. “Right,” Mirabelle murmurs, looking away from me.
Look at me please. Let me in.
“What are you doing?” I echo the question back to her, hoping she’ll give me some indication she’s okay. Actually, that sounds stupid. Obviously, she’s not okay if she’s jumping into the pool fully clothed.
“You know, that’s a great question. I wish I had an answer.” Mirabelle seems as if she’s in a daze as she trails her fingertips through the water, exhaling sharply. “I haven’t called JJ back. He keeps calling, but I don’t know what to say, so I haven’t answered.”
“When did you last talk to JJ?”
“I was on the phone with him when Bailey’s school called me the other day. We were talking about . . . well, it doesn’t matter what. I told him I’d call him back, and I didn’t. Sister of the year, right?” she asks, her eyes shining as she finally looks at me. Mirabelle’s face is a window to her battered soul, giving me a glimpse of what she’s been hiding, and I’m utterly devastated as she wipes her cheeks hastily.Fuck, she’s crying. I’m not good with tears, but I’m even worse when it’s Mirabelle crying.“I’m sorry. I’m fine, I don’t know why I’m crying.”
“Actually, I’m shocked you don’t cry more. You’ve had a lot going on. You don’t need to apologize,” I say, and she cracks a faint smile.
“Well, if I cried every time something went wrong in my life, I wouldn’t get very much done.”
“What’s wrong with that? You’re allowed to have feelings,” I say, slowly wading closer with the hope I don’t scare her into disappearing.
Instead, Mirabelle looks at me like I’m insane, which I most definitely am. I’m insane for trying to provoke her. “What’s wrong with crying all the time? Are you seriously asking for an obvious answer? I know how much you love that word, Henry.”
“What word?” I question, fully aware that I’m playing with fire to goad her into giving me a reaction.
The corners of Mirabelle’s mouth tip downward as her bloodshot eyes flicker with the first sign of life in two days.Yes.More of that. Clearly, this is the right track.“Obvious.”
I feel like I’m missing something here, because I’m not sure why she thinks that. “Obvious? Why do you think I love that word?”
“Stop, you’re distracting me,” she says, her cheeks flushing as she attempts to turn away from me.
“I’m not trying to,” I say, catching her wrist gently.
Mirabelle exhales, an exasperated laugh escaping her. It sounds like the most beautiful thing in the world to my ears. “It’s so fucking ironic that you throw that word around when you wouldn’t know ‘obvious’ if it hit you in the face. You said I obviously have feelings for Quinn, but I don’t. It should be fucking obvious, but apparently, it’s not. There are obvious reasons why I don’t get to sit around crying every time something goes wrong in my life— because I’m highly aware of how privileged I am.
“Oh poor Mirabelle. Her brothers hate her because she’s so goddamn perfect—they think it’s okay to get drunk at school and blame her. Poor Mirabelle for having no friends at work—except her boss, who doesn’t totally hate her, and her fake boyfriend—because they all think she’s a nepo baby who sits around doing nothing.
“We should feel so fucking bad for poor Mirabelle, whose childhood home was nearly burned down, especially when her parents can simply call their best friend’s son, a professional athlete, to ask if she can stay at his house with its amazing pool. Poor Mirabelle can’t stop crying when there are people out there with real problems, who work all day to make ends meet, and still struggle to put enough food on the table for their families.”
Shit, what the fuck was I thinking pushing her buttons? This was not a good idea.“Mira—”
“Do you want to know what I was doing when you jumped into the pool?” she asks, the challenge lingering heavy like a finger on the trigger of a gun, waiting to fire.I pushed too far.“Ask me, Henry.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, refusing to let go of her.
“What were you doing?” I ask hoarsely.
“I was screaming.” She stares directly at me, tears welling up in her eyes again. “I went under the water where no one would be able to hear me, and I screamed until I couldn’t breathe. I hoped it would make me feel better.”
