LIA POV
"He's just a smoker hiding from his wife. I know him. I've seen him several times. Trust me, no one's watching you," Miles said and patted my hand. "Let's drink our sorrows away."
I drowned myself in the third bottle and picked a fourth one. "I was not always such a sad girl. I was practically a beggar before I got adopted but I was still a cheerful person," I said then grinned. "Oops! Did I just tell you that I was adopted?" I hiccupped then sighed.
"That's enough," he said, taking the bottle from me. "You're not a sad girl. Everyone has problems," Miles said.
"You— You—" then I blanked out.
I woke up with a banging sound in my head the next morning. Holy crap! I embarrassed myself right in front of a total stranger. I'm so stupid. I got out of bed and raced down the stairs. There's got to be an explanation for how I got into my house and onto my bed. My little living room vibrated from the noise that came out of a man's throat.
“Miles?! How did he —” I stopped to watch him sleep. I could not place my finger on the reason he liked me so much. I could not drop the feeling that he was after something I had.
“Hey!” I called, shaking him up. He snuggled up and sat up straight to face me.
“Why are you here? You should have left yesterday,” I said.
“What a great way to say thank you,” he quipped then chuckled. “You were drunk last night so I brought you home. After all you said yesterday, I could not leave you unconscious without any guardian.”
I bit my lower lip and avoided his gaze. Screw me! All he did was for me.
“Thank— thank you,” I stuttered without turning in his direction.
“It’s fine. I'll get going,” he said and moved abruptly towards the door.
“Hey you! I thought you were dead in there. Thought I forgot about my money? You wish!” Mrs. Willow forced her way in, kicking Miles out of the way. Words are not enough to express how embarrassed I felt.
“Mrs —”
“Keep your greetings in your pocket, I'm here for serious business. Where's my money?” she broke in.
“Lia, what's this about?” Miles asked. He stood akimbo with his jacket ruffled in between his palms. I was getting an unusual feeling that made me question who I was and my principles. Why do I feel so safe whenever I'm around him? I always looked forward to stabbing every man I saw but I kept my cool by staying away from them so I wouldn't go crazy. However, Miles was a different ball game. He was also a man — someone I enjoyed spending time with even if I won't admit it. It might be a result of my social phobia but it was strange and surprisingly satisfying.
“Don't worry, I've got this,” I assured him but he turned to face Mrs. Willow instead. “Did she do something wrong?”
“Oh! Who do we have here? You've got a boyfriend?!” she exclaimed and busted out laughing. What's funny about me having a boyfriend? She must have thought I was a recluse.
“How much is the money she's oweing you?” Miles asked with all seriousness, his eyes painted with irritation at the older woman's uncomfortable giggle.
“500 bucks,” she replied.
“Can I get your details?” he asked, pulling out his phone. Her eyes shone and she glued to his side while he made the transaction. I hurried to him and held his hand, “You don't have to. I've got this under control.”
“She's making a scene. This isn't under control,” he said and completed the transaction.
“Seen,” she said then turned to me, “you never told me you've got a rich boyfriend. You should stop scrambling for scraps by treating this man well. You've obviously got a bad character. That's why he's not involved in your life. He —”
“Would you mind giving us some privacy?” Miles broke in. She got the cue and left the room, humming a 90’s R&B song.
“Why did you do that? She thinks I have a boyfriend when I don't. I don't want a complicated life. Don't make things harder for me,” I walked over to the sofa, breaking down on it. Miles sat in the opposite chair, smacked his lips then looked in my eyes.
“Do you ever appreciate people? Why do you keep shutting everyone out? We've all got scars but we all hide it. We live in this fantasy because we don't want to live in our realities. Why can't you ditch your reality and live life a little?” he demanded. I could not respond to any of his questions. He'd never understand. He wasn't raped by his family at 17 or turned into a sex toy for 7 years.
“You don't know me so don't judge me,” I said and stood up abruptly.
“I'd never judge you, Lia. I don't want to admit it but you're an important person to me and I don't want to see you get hurt or in tears.
*****
Two weeks later and Miles had became a close acquaintance. He'd always show up at the cafe outside the academy at lunch break to see me. Then, he'll escort me back home. Why was he showing so much care and attention? I don't know. You might call it love but to me, he had an ulterior motive. Men were not made to be nice. My phone beeped with a message notification after Miles had walked me home.
Be here this instant. I need to recharge.
Pat.
“I have to leave. Thanks for escorting me,” my lips curved into a smile. A very shy one that made me stutter.
“Leave? But you just got home. You should rest,” he replied, taking my hand. I maneuvered my fingers out of his grip because I could not stand any physical touch with men. It made me cringe.
“No, I have to go. It's urgent,” I said.
“Just as urgent as you left the other day and came back with tears and bruises. I won't let you go to wherever you're going. He can do nothing to you,” Miles said.
“You don't understand!” I exclaimed.
“I'd rather not understand. Can't you see me, right in front of you?! Why do you have to go to a man who abuses you? All I want is for you to see me. To know that Greg Sanders loves you so much and would go to any length to keep you safe,” he confessed his feelings but my heart shattered into pieces.
“Greg Sanders?!” my shaky voice stammered.