"Fucking Miles," I muttered angrily as I stormed into my apartment. "So easy, he says. I'll show him. Mother fucker."
I tossed my wallet and keys onto my bed and flopped down onto it, staring at the ceiling.
God... I hadn't seen him in so long. Why did this hurt?
Why did he look so... angry when he saw me at first? I wasn't the one who cut him out.
"Mother fucker," I hissed, rolling over onto my side as I opened my dresser drawer, scrambling out a remote.
After powering on the TV, I stayed on my side as the news flashed on.
"'And we all know that the hurricane is affecting Hawaii, but it is now a tropical sto—'"
I switched channels, staring at the TV lazily.
"'Who even are you?'" a girl on the TV said.
"'I'm Batma—'"
I switched channels again.
Knock, knock, knock. "'Penny.'" Knock, knock, knock. "'Penny.'"
I switched them again.
"'And now back to Sharkboy and Lava Gir—'"
I powered off the TV, sighing as I rolled over onto the other side of my bed.
What did I want to watch? I honestly didn't know.
Maybe a romance or something... like... Fifty Shades of Grey.
I closed my eyes tightly, an image of Miles flashing by my mind.
But I opened them again, my sight dulling with depression.
I wondered if he hated me now. I wondered if he found someone else.
I was his prize in high school; his possession. We would sneak away on our free hours off school property to kiss and tease each other.
I blinked lazily.
But... at the same time... a lot of high school relationships never lasted. He might've liked me then, but... got into someone else.
I stared at the front door.
He seemed genuinely into me, though... Like... really into me in the bathroom.
Why else would he comment on me like that?
Well... he was Miles. He always put on a show in order to suit his twisted desires.
I remembered in our little games, I would always play the submissive.
I covered my face.
Goddamn it, I needed to stop thinking like this.
I slipped off my bed then and headed into the bathroom, rubbing my eyes lazily as I flipped on the light and stepped over to my sink.
I opened my drawer and spread some toothpaste on my toothbrush, and then got to work on cleaning my mouth.
I stared at myself lazily in the mirror as I brushed, finding me looking like a fucking hobo with my hood drawn over my hair, and my clothes stained with white due to the apple cobbler I baked a week ago.
Seriously... I needed to wash this thing.
I looked down to it as I brushed, eyes softening.
This was Miles's jacket. He gave it to me on one of our dates in eleventh grade. We were sitting on a rooftop, watching the city lights, and I shivered, so he put me in this thing.
He told me I could keep it.
I wore it nearly every day; I honestly didn't know why. It was a sense of comfort for me, and due to this, I struggled to wash it every week.
I spit out the toothpaste, rinsing my mouth.
I guessed this jacket reminded me of a younger him; before he put that shield up.
The man who would hold me every night—stroke my hair and... other places when we were alone—the man who loved me for who I was and cared for me when my father died.
I pulled my hair into a ponytail, staring at my reflection.
I wondered what happened to him.
I turned out from the bathroom, feeling numb as I crawled into my sheets and flipped off my lamp.
I stared into the darkness for a minute.
I also wondered if I'd see him again.
And I snuggled with my pillow, closing my eyes.
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