Page 54 of Sweet Caroline
A beat passes. Then another. And then, before I can react, I’m wrapped in his arms, surrounded by his earthy scent, his warmth, the press of his body. Reflexively, I snake my arms around his waist and cling tight as he rubs my back in rhythmic strokes.
“I’m really sorry.” His voice vibrates low against my temple, his lips so close they heat my skin. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fight off the memory of the last time he held me this close, yet unable to pull away all the same. Because, God damnit, this feels good. To be held like this—to beseenlike this. Even if his words did sting a bit.
How did he do that?
With just a few pithy sentences, he’d held up a mirror to all the uncomfortable truths I’ve been carrying around my entire life.
“You’re right,” I hear myself say against his chest.
“What?” His hands still. “No. I’m a dick who doesn’t know when to shut up. Ignore me, please.”
“But Idon’tknow what I want.” I finally work up the nerve to pull back, stepping out of his arms before I risk looking up. “Sometimes I feel like this puppet, just going through the motions, y’know? Other times I feel like I might explode. Or scream. And, even if I threw the fit, had the tantrum… what would it achieve?”
His expression pinches with concern, but his silence beckons me on.
“When I first moved here last year, I had this silly idea about starting over. I bought all these new clothes, trying to look less like a senator’s daughter and kind of… lean into my own style a bit more.”
“Did it help?”
“Kind of?” I shrug. “I mean, it’s not like my parents picked out my clothes before; I’m an adult. But there was pressure to show up a certain way. Look a certain way. And I guess it never felt like me. Never felt right. Or good. I just wanted to feelgood.” Tears well in my eyes and I clench my hands into fists, fighting the way putting it into words brings back that suffocating feeling in full force. “It’s like I’ve lived this neat little life that fits into this neat little box, and all of it has been what other people wanted me to do.” My shoulders sag. “And I want out. I wanna live my own life, make my own choices, my own mistakes. I wanna have experiences. Be messy. Figure out what I like. What I don’t like. Try stuff.”
“Like sketchy, hole-in-the-wall tacos?” The scarred corner of his lips curls up slightly.
“Yeah! Like… likefucking delicioustacos!”
A broad grin splits his face.
I tilt my head. “Do you see what I’m saying? I’m just at this breaking point, and it all feels like such ridiculous, first-world nonsense to even be upset about it!”
“It’s not.” He shakes his head.
“Yes, it is! I’ve had this incredibly privileged life, and I’m still not happy? What’s wrong with me?”
“Caroline, there’s nothing wrong with you.” He steps toward me, sliding his palms down my arms. “You deserve all of that. To be messy, to make your own decisions, to feel good. Wanting those things is like basic human shit, okay?”
I’m not sure I believe him.
“Listen,” he says. “What’s one thing you’ve never done?” When I hesitate, he squeezes my hands and adds, “One thing you always wanted to do but never felt like you could.”
“What?”
“C’mon! Let’s see if we can knock something off your list.”
“Now? Tonight?” I look around us.
“Yes! A real boyfriend would help you do that stuff, right? Why not let your fake boyfriend take you on a few adventures while you’ve got him?”
“Uh, I… I don’t…” A thousand thoughts careen and crash in my head, jostling to get front and center. I blow out a breath, pulling my hands away from his.
“Just hit me. Spitball style. Don’t overthink it. Just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. Something you wanna do.”
“Skinny dipping!”
Miles’ eyebrows nearly meet his hairline before shocked laughter stutters out. “Skinny dipping.”
“Sorry! I panicked!” I press my palms to my cheeks, confirming they’re on fire.
Did I seriously suggest being naked together?
