I reach over to my nightstand and open the top drawer. I pull
out the letter and hand it to her.
She begins reading it out loud.
Dear Mr. Archer,
She looks up at me, and her eyes are wide.
Congratulations on your summer registration. We are pleased
to inform you that your application for family housing has been
processed and approved.
Rachel smiles.
Enclosed you will find a return envelope and the final
paperwork which will need to be returned by the postmarked
date.
Rachel looks at the envelope and quickly flips through the
attached paperwork. She pulls the letter back to the top.
We look forward to receiving the completed forms. Our contact
information is below should you have any questions.
Sincerely,
Paige Donahue, Registrar
Rachel covers her smile with her hand and tosses the letter
aside, then leans forward and hugs me.
We get to move now? she says.
I love how evident the excitement is in her voice.
I tell her yes. Rachel is relieved. She knows as well as I do how
awkward the next several weeks would have been in the same
house as our parents.
Have you asked your father yet?
I tell her she forgets that were adults now. We no longer have
to ask for permission. We only have to inform.
Rachel says she wants to inform them right now.
I take Rachels hand, and we walk together to the living room
and inform our parents that were moving out.
Together.
Chapter twenty-five
TATE
Its been a few weeks since Corbin found out. He hasnt accepted it, and he still hasnt spoken to Miles, but hes beginning to adapt. He knows on the nights I leave without explanation, only to come back a few hours later, where Ive been. He doesnt ask.
As far as things with Miles, Im the one doing the adapting. Ive had to adapt to his rules, because theres no way Miles is adapting to breaking them. Ive learned to stop trying to figure him out and to stop allowing things to get so tense between us. Were doing exactly what we agreed to do in the beginning, which was to have sex.
A lot of sex.
Shower sex. Bedroom sex. Floor sex. Kitchen-table sex.
Ive still never spent the night with him, and it still hurts sometimes how closed off he becomes right after its over, but I still havent figured out a way to say no to him.
I know I want so much more than what hes giving me and he wants so much less than what I want to give him, but were both just taking what we can get for now. I try not to think about what will happen the day I cant handle it anymore. I try not to think about all the other things Im sacrificing by still being involved with him.
I try not to think about it at all, but the thoughts still come. Every night, when Im in bed, I think about it. Every time Im in the shower, I think about it. When Im in class, in the living room, in the kitchen, at work … I think about whats going to happen when one of us finally comes to our senses.
Is Tate a nickname for something else? Miles asks me.
Were in his bed. He just got home from four days at work, and even though our arrangement is supposed to be all about sex, were still fully dressed. Were not making out. Hes just lying with me, asking me personal questions about my name, and I love it so much more than any other day weve ever spent together.
Its the first time hes ever asked me a semi-personal question. I hate that his question fills me with all these feelings of hope, and all he did was ask me if Tate was a nickname.
Tate is my middle name, I say. It was my grandmothers maiden name.
Whats your first name?
Elizabeth.
Elizabeth Tate Collins, he says, making love to my name with his voice. My name has never sounded as beautiful as it did just now, coming out of his mouth. Thats almost twice as many syllables as my name, he says. Thats a lot of syllables.
Whats your middle name?
Mikel, he says. People always mispronounce it and say Michael, though. Gets annoying.
Miles Mikel Archer, I say. Thats a strong name.
Miles rises onto his elbow and looks down at me with a peaceful expression. He brushes my hair behind my ear as his eyes roam over my face. Anything interesting happen this week while I was working, Elizabeth Tate Collins? Theres a playfulness in his voice. One that Im not familiar with, but I like it. I like it a lot.
Not really, Miles Mikel Archer, I say, smiling. I worked a lot of overtime.
Do you still like your job? His fingers are touching my face, sliding across my lips, trailing down my neck.
I do like it, I say. Do you like being a captain? I just throw versions of his own questions back at him. I figure its safe that way, because I know hell only give what hes willing to take.
Miles follows his hand with his eyes as he unbuttons the top button of my shirt. I love my job, Tate. His fingers work on the second button of my shirt. I just dont like being gone so much, especially knowing youre right across the hall from where I live. It makes me want to be home all the time.
I try to contain it, but I cant. His words make me gasp, even though it was probably the quietest gasp to ever pass anyones lips.
But he notices.
His eyes meet mine in a flash, and I can see him wanting to backpedal. He wants to take back what he just said, because there was hope in those words. Miles doesnt say things like that. I know hes about to apologize. Hes going to remind me that he cant love me, that he didnt mean to give me that inkling of false hope.
Dont take it back, Miles. Please, let me keep that.
Our eyes remain locked for several long seconds. I continue to stare up at him, waiting for the take-back. His fingers are still on the second button of my shirt, but theyre not attempting to unbutton it anymore.