Ugly Love Page 60
Author: Colleen Hoover

“Oh, yeah,” I murmur. “So hot.”

His hands are on me again, roaming across my back and down my arms. “You would have loved me from the ages of thirteen to sixteen,” he says. “I failed at pretty much everything. Especially football.”

I grin. “Now we’re talking. Tell me more.”

“Baseball,” he says, right before he presses his mouth to my neck. He kisses his way up to my ear. “And one semester of world geography.”

“Holy shit.” I moan. “Now, that’s hot.”

He moves his lips to my mouth and pulls me in for a soft kiss. He barely touches his mouth to mine. “I failed at kissing, too. Terribly. I almost choked a girl with my tongue once.”

I laugh.

“Want me to show you?”

As soon as I nod, he’s repositioning us on the couch until I’m lying on my back and he’s on top of me. “Open your mouth.”

I open it. He drops his mouth to mine and shoves his tongue inside, giving me what is quite possibly the worst kiss I’ve ever experienced. I push against his chest, attempting to get his tongue out of my mouth, but he doesn’t budge. I turn my face to the left, and he begins licking my cheek, causing me to laugh even harder.

“Oh, my God, that was terrible, Miles!”

He pulls his mouth away and lowers himself on top of me. “I got better.”

I nod. “That’s a fact,” I say, agreeing wholeheartedly.

We’re both smiling. The relaxed look on his face fills me with so many emotions I can’t even begin to classify them. I’m happy, because we’re having fun together. I’m sad, because we’re having fun together. I’m angry, because we’re having fun together and it makes me want so much more of this. So much more of him.

We quietly stare at each other, until he slowly dips his head, pressing a long kiss against my lips. He begins placing soft kisses all over my mouth until the kisses become longer and more intense. His tongue eventually parts my lips, and the playfulness disappears.

It’s quite serious now, as our kisses grow more hurried and his clothes begin to join mine on the floor, piece by piece.

“The couch or your bed?” he whispers.

“Both,” I reply.

He obliges.

I fell asleep in my bed.

Next to Miles.

Neither of us has ever fallen asleep afterward before. One of us always leaves. As much as I’m trying to convince myself that it means nothing, I know it does. Every time we’re together, I get a little bit more of him. Whether it’s a glimpse of his past or time spent without the sex or even time spent sleeping, he’s giving me more and more of himself, little by little. I feel like this is both good and bad. It’s good, because I want and need so much more of him, so every little bit I get is enough to satisfy me when I begin worrying about everything I don’t get from him. But it’s also bad, because every time I get a little bit more of him, another part of him grows more distant. I can see it in his eyes. He’s worried he’s giving me hope, and I’m afraid he’ll eventually just pull away completely.

Everything with Miles will come crashing down.

It’s inevitable. He’s so adamant about the things he doesn’t want out of life, and I’m starting to understand just how serious he is. So as much as I try to protect my heart from him, it’s pointless. He’s going to break it eventually, yet I continue to allow him to fill it. Every time I’m with him, he fills my heart up more and more, and the more it’s filled with pieces of him, the more painful it’ll be when he rips it out of my chest as though it never belonged there in the first place.

I hear the vibration of his phone and feel him roll over and reach for it on the nightstand next to him. He thinks I’m asleep, so I don’t give him reason to think otherwise.

“Hey,” he whispers. There’s a long pause, and I start to panic internally, wondering who he’s talking to. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I should have called you. I figured you’d be asleep.”

My heart is in my throat now, crawling its way up, trying to escape from Miles and me and this entire situation. My heart knows by my reaction to this phone call that it’s in trouble. My heart has just gone into fight-or-flight mode, and right now, it’s doing everything it can to run.

I don’t blame my heart one bit.

“Love you, too, Dad.”

My heart slides back down my throat and finds its normal home in my chest again. It’s happy for now. I’m happy. Happy that he actually does have someone to call.

In the same moment, I’m also reminded of how little I know about him. How little he shows me. How much he hides himself from me, so that when I finally break, it won’t be his fault.

It won’t be a quick break, either. It’ll be slow and painful, filled with so many moments like these that tear me up from the inside out. Moments when he thinks I’m asleep and he slides out of my bed. Moments when I keep my eyes closed but listen as he puts on his clothes. Moments when I make sure my breathing remains regular in case he’s watching me when he leans over to kiss me on the forehead.

Moments when he leaves.

Because he always leaves.

Chapter twenty-eight

MILES

Six years earlier

“What if he turns out to be g*y?” Rachel asks me. “Would that

bother you?”

She’s holding Clayton, and we’re both sitting on the hospital

bed. I’m on the foot of the bed facing her, watching her stare

at him.

She keeps asking me random questions. Playing devil’s

advocate again.

She says we need to work these things out now so we don’t run

into any parenting issues in the future.

“It would only bother me if he felt like he couldn’t talk to us

about it. I want him to know he can talk to us about anything.”

Rachel smiles at Clayton, but I know her smile is for me.

Because she loved my answer.

“What if he doesn’t believe in God?” she asks.

“He can believe whatever he wants. I just want his beliefs—or