I never had control over Isaac, and I still don’t.He controls me in a way that makes my stomach churn, something I’d never stand for from someone else.
“So, are you and Isaac back on?”This is the question Miles asks me, my thoughts consumed with what a fucking mess this all is.The sound of his voice echoes in my head, almost like every word is a song.
I turn to look at him, his face a haunting reminder of what we had and how it went sour so quickly.He pulls his teeth over his bottom lip, raking gently as he waits for my answer.And that’s when I notice it, almost imperceptible: the tiny chip on his left front tooth.
I’ve memorized every inch of Miles’s face, his body, the hard lines of his lean muscles, the veins in his arms, and this chip is new.
I stare too long.I always do, something Isaac has noticed and called me out on, making the guilt pull tighter in my stomach.
“The chip,” I say, my hand reaching out of its own accord, but I quickly pull it back.We don’t touch each other.At least, not anymore.
I watch as he runs his tongue over his top teeth, lingering over the spot for a few seconds before wetting his lips.
“Yeah, chipped it on the microphone in Detroit,” he tells me, but there’s an air of uncomfortableness to his words.He doesn’t want to talk about it.
He never wants to talk about the tour, something that our group of friends learned quickly.Hit with a million questions, proud of all he accomplished, but when it comes to it, he behaves as if he would rather talk about anything else in the world than that.
“Daisy,” he now says.The ache in my chest turns to a painful stab at the way he says my name.It falls from his lips like it hurts him to say it, and that breaks my heart.We were once so much.We were everything to each other.
But we were young, too young to know what the world had to offer, the people we would meet, the places we would go.
This was needed.
We needed to end to find ourselves.
“I gotta go,” I respond, clipped and short.“I need to get to work.”It’s an excuse, and a lame one at that.
Heat sears my skin, and when I look down, Miles’s hand is wrapped around my wrist, holding me there.My tongue goes dry at his touch, and I feel the tears pool behind my eyes, willing them not to fall.
His eyes fall to my thighs, searching for the tattoo that bears his name, but he won’t find it today.It’s hidden beneath the fabric of my boy shorts, the material covering it just enough, and I don’t know if I did it on purpose.He doesn’t need the reminder of what we once were.Me seeing it daily is enough.
“Do you love him?”His question is said with disgust laced with curiosity.
And I stare at him for a beat too long, like I always do.
I can’t answer, though.He doesn’t want to know, torturing himself with what I might say.But in this moment, out here on the water with Miles, his fingers wrapped around my wrist, we’re alone, and my admission could change everything.
But I can’t do it.
Instead, I pull away from him, paddling toward the shore with my heart slamming in my chest, hard and desperate.
“Daisy!”he calls, but I don’t look back, and when my tongue slips out, tracing along my lips, I taste the salt of the ocean.But I know it’s mixed with my tears.
Tucking my board under my arm, I practically run to the solace of my waiting car parked on the side of the road.
As I’m putting my board on the roof, I feel him.He doesn’t need to say anything.His feet are loud on the gravel of the shoulder, and I whip around to come face to face with him.
Anger rages in me, hating that he chased me, but also wondering if Isaac would do the same thing.He wouldn’t.I’m the one chasing him.
“You don’t get to ask me that question,” I shout, my words loud but still somehow lost in the noise of the ocean mixing with the wind.
“You don’t get to run away from me,” he hits back, anger fused with jealousy spewing from his words.He boxes me in, my back pressed against the metal frame of my old Jeep, and its coolness does nothing to ease the burn.
I scoff, rolling my eyes, which only seems to make him press closer to me, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, gripping tightly.
There’s no room between us, our heartbeats mingling, beating to the same erratic rhythm, and I exhale a ragged breath.
“Tell me you don’t love him,” Miles hisses, his other hand gripping my hip, his fingers cutting into my sensitive flesh.“Tell me you feel me everywhere when he fucks you.”
