Page 103 of Faking it For Summer

But she didn’t even know.

Now everything is starting to unravel because I’m no longer able to keep my feelings to myself.

But I knew as soon as I stepped off that plane and back onto Coconut Beach that I was finally home and ready to claim the woman who made everything feel better in my life. I just hadn’t expected that she’d be so open to exploration.

“What are you looking at?” Mia asks as she walks into the hotel room with a bag of fruit in her hand. There’s a quizzical look in her eyes like she wants to ask me something else. Like she knows I’ve been holding back from her. I wait for her to ask me to declare my true feelings and intentions.

I want her to ask.

I need her to ask.

“Oh, just a message from work,” I say and put my phone away. “Nearly ready for breakfast?” I ask her. I’m not going to force something that she’s not ready for.

“Yeah. I just went down to the market to get some fruit as I was craving clementines and I needed to help Juniper open up this morning,” she says, avoiding eye contact with me. “I also got my camera so I can take photographs of the breakfast‌. Andi asked me if I would mind being the unofficial photographer.” Her lips twist up in irony.

“I hope they’re going to pay you,” I say. Though I know Mia. She hates charging friends and family for anything, and I bet she didn’t even bring it up.

“I didn’t ask for payment, Luke.” I gloat inside.I know my Mia so well.

“Well, you should. I don’t want them taking advantage of you.”

“It’s fine. I’m always taking photos. I love taking photos, and I don’t mind doing it.”

“I know you don’t mind doing it, but …” I pause. “You know what? I’m sure they’ll be very grateful.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

There’s an awkwardness between us I haven’t ever felt, and I wonder if this is it for us. I wonder if playing ‌fake boyfriend and girlfriend for just a matter of days has caused a rift in our friendship that will never heal.

“That text message and your reaction last night scares me, Mia.” I wish I had the words to explain to her that the feelings I have for her make it difficult for me to breath sometimes. I wish I could grab her hand, have her close her eyes, and reach into my soul. There’s a storm raging inside of me, and my heart is in the eye of it, scared, vulnerable, and weary.

“Yeah?” She twirls her fingers in her hair—a telltale sign that she’s anxious or nervous about something.

“I just want you to know that I really don’t know why Talia sent me that text message.”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “Doesn’t matter. I’m sure she sent it to you because she wants to get with you, and I think it’s extremely disrespectful, seeing that she thinks we’re in a relationship, but she can do whatever she wants to do if she thinks that’s okay. That’s her problem.”

“Yeah. Well, I just want you to know it’s not something I led her to believe was in the cards.”

“You’ve dated in New York, right?”

“Yeah. Nothing serious. I didn’t care about those women, and I don’t care about Talia.”

“Talia’s a bitch, and you can do much better than her, but if that’s the sort of woman you want to go for, then you go ahead.” She shrugs, and I wonder if she really doesn’t care. I wonder if this has been nothing but a bit of fun for her.

“Really, Mia? That’s where we’re going to leave this?”

“What?”

We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. No smiles. No eyebrow waggles. No teasing smirks. Just searching eyes gazing at each other in contemplation. I wish I could really read her mind. I wish I knew what she was thinking. I wish that I knew the answers. But the silence between us is like an impenetrable wall that neither of us can scale.

I want to step forward. I want to be brave. I want to tell her what’s in my soul. But I’m scared I would be too much. That she won’t understand my feelings. And then what? Where would that leave us? The silence is better than answers I don’t want to hear.

“Nothing. You know what? If you don’t want to talk about it, I don’t need to talk about it. Let’s go down for breakfast.”

“I told you, I’ll be ready in a couple of minutes,” she says, her tone sharp. “Let me put the fruit down on the table and get it out of the plastic bag, and then we can go down for breakfast. Or why don’t you just go by yourself, and I’ll meet you down there? I have to take photos anyway, and that will just make it easier, so you don’t have to wait around for me.”

“Hey, there’s no need to get an attitude.” I don’t bother arguing with her about what information she had and hadn’t given me. I didn’t want to rile her up even more.