Page 62 of Stuck-Up Big Shot
Miles: Oh, you meant food. My bad. I had something else in mind for you to eat.
My shoulders shake from my laughter as I read his naughty text, as another one comes in right after.
Miles: Just kidding. Sort of. I’ll be by in thirty minutes with Chinese. That good?
Me: Both sound delicious.
I insert a smiley face and an eggplant emoji for good measure because Miles brings out both the naughty girl in me and the one that is just ecstatic to have him back in my life in this manner.
It’s crazy to think how time can change people. Seven years ago, as Miles pointed out, I didn’t possess the maturity or meet the age requirement to be with a twenty-three-year-old man. It would’ve been wrong, regardless of the circumstances.
But now that I’m an adult, things are different. The relationship can be different. And we can start something that might lead into something longer-term.
It dawns on me that Graham and Soraya will be returning home soon. I check the calendar on the wall, and sure enough, they’ll be returning on Wednesday of this week. I need to confirm with Ben that I can move in again until I can find a new place, either with roommates or an inexpensive apartment of my own.
A pang in my heart ripples and quakes, and I swallow down my sadness. It’ll be weird not seeing Miles every day, whether by chance or planned meet-up. I’ve become used to having him knock on my door in the mornings to head downstairs for a swim or workout. Or a walk in the park with him and Blackie in the late evenings, before climbing into one of our beds and fooling around before falling asleep in each other’s arms.
Miles is everything I’d ever thought he would be as a boyfriend, and the guy I’d always dreamed of being with.
Yet I feel there is a loose strand of yarn threatening to unravel the woven fabric of this thing building between us. Miles has admitted to not dating or having a single lasting relationship since he was in high school. What does that mean for me? For us?
Perhaps I’m romanticizing our affair between us due to my longstanding feelings for Miles. The fascination over him, the crush I’ve harbored for years with all the wanting and yearning to be with him.
To be someone to Miles other than a fling or a fuck buddy.
To be someone special in his eyes.
35
Miles
As I waitfor the Chinese takeout, sitting in a God-awful, orange plastic chair, I type out a quick text to Graham.
Me: Hey, buddy. Just checking in again. Hope you’re enjoying your last few days of rest and relaxation.
I get an immediate reply.
Graham: Consensus is “We’re never coming home.” So, I’ll start the paperwork to sell you the business.
My loud snorting chuckle garners curious glances from the other three patrons hanging out in the small restaurant waiting for their orders. A sidelong look from an elderly woman makes me want to laugh louder, but I tamp down the need to annoy her and clamp my lips together and return the text.
Me: Gladly. Any day. And let’s face it, I’m the far better choice. You’re a lazy ass.
An image appears on my phone, and this time I can’t help my laughter. It’s Graham, lying on a lounge chair, hat pulled down to shade his eyes, a beer bottle in his clasped hand, and his bare chest sunburned like a cooked lobster.
Me: Jesus, dude. Ever hear of SPF?
Graham: (Flipping the bird emoji)
Graham: That was from last week. I’m back to a nice tan again. But I have to say, not terribly excited about returning. How’s my dog-sitter doing? You checked in on her lately?
I make a coughing sound, clearing the reluctance that sits in my throat to mention anything. But it’s Graham, and he won’t give a shit, especially when he finds out the circumstances involving Sutton’s and my relationship.
My fingers tap across my phone.
Me: Funny you should mention. . .
Graham: I knew it! You tapped that, didn’t you? Mofo. Just couldn’t resist the temptation, could you?
