Miles Within Constellations

Prologue-1-1

Prologue

WHEN PEOPLE SETTLE, they fall into a state of equilibrium. A state where everything stops; an endless pit of sacrifices and compromises; a utopia of expectations that remain unfulfilled.

Our bodies are constantly fighting the urge to fall into a state of equilibrium because if it does, our bodies will die. We will all die. This life will end.

And, I'm not ready to die just yet.

Chapter 1

PRESENT

"You are wasting your time with Cassiel.” His words are raw and harsh. “You are just existing and living your life like a zombie." His lips are twisting words as his mouth curls, like he's aiming to throw the hurt, and puke out the venom he's been feeling at me. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re delusional and you live in your pretty little bubble.”

“Enough, Daniel! What’s that supposed to mean?” I’m taken aback. I’ve known that his feelings had been a mess. But I do not want to know what this mess spirals into. He turns around so I face his back, and I’m weighing the thought of putting a hand on it.

"What I mean to say is that you're just spending your life with Cassiel like you don’t have a better option! He doesn’t bring out the best in you.” He takes a deep breath, his voice is chilling when he pivots and looks at me. “You though, live with me Ange.”

We’ve had this exact same fight so many times. I close my eyes to think and say something that will be a setback to his beliefs. It comes out as an empty hope and desire. “Cassiel can do better." I know it. He just doesn’t have the time. “He has always treated me the best he can.”

“What about now?” Daniel crushes the hollow glass house surrounding my vision with his bitterness. “Is he treating you the best he can today?”

I put a hand on Daniel’s chest to stop him. I can’t do this anymore. I’m drained. The life within me has started to leave my body. Daniel puts both of his hands on my waist in return, and he pulls me in with a swift move of his wrists until I collide in his chest with a soft thud. I open my mouth to revolt but the warmth seeping out of his arms and chest lulls me.

A moment later, he slowly tips my chin for me to look into his eyes as he peers deeply into mine. “You know what Angelique? I’ll do anything for you.” He pushes the loose strands of my hair behind my ear. “I’ll be there for you through everything, through thick and thin. I will be there by your side during your hardest days,” he’s now looking at me with a strange emotion in his eyes, “I would always treat you better than anyone has had ever treated you.” He tilts my head to momentarily touch his lips with mine, “And nothing will ever be more important to me than you are.”

I’m speechless, but all I can do is inhale. The way he's looking at me, right now, makes me know no bounds when it comes to him. To us. About us. I need to throw this out there before I listen to what I should feel. Before I forget what I really feel.

“I know you would Daniel.” I close my eyes, “I wish it was easier.”

I want to so truly believe his words and give in. But, I know it's wrong. It's against my modus operandi. I have to do the right thing even in my sleep. All I want right now is to kiss him. Hard!

Why is that so hard to do?

Daniel Miles is looking at me in a way that every girl wants to be looked at. His gaze is causing goosebumps on the exposed skin of my thighs. Suddenly, he erases the distance between us. As his hand lie on my left shoulder, I feel electricity-like shock currents that shoots up through my entire arm. The sensation makes me retract a step.

"This is not good." My hands are limp and in an electric flux frenzy. I need to remember how to breathe. “I think I should leave now.” I look at the clock at his office cabin’s vanilla wall. It’s 9 p.m. “It’s late.”

"I know.” He rests his forehead against mine. "I wish this wasn't so hard. That you were mine. And ..." he says, as his fingers lace under the very thin material of my cami dress, "... so many other things."

I'm dizzy and I need a minute. I take a step back but he places his hand on my waist and flips me around. He rests his chin on my shoulder, hugging my stomach from behind.

“Don't go,” he says.

But I don't listen to him. It is time to go. And I leave him. Just like that.

Tonight is another lonely night in an endless string of many nights, the nights I had to spend alone with my melancholy and misery. I wish Cassiel would be home right now. That’s an empty dream though. Cassiel is knee deep in files at his new office at the firm he co-founded with a friend from college. When it comes to running his company, he has a lone vision with what he wants to achieve. And, it’s the new normal for Cassiel. He's busy. He's working. It's the weekend after all. We had made plans earlier that are not looking up.

I miss him. As I had always. The romance in our relationship is almost fading away. But what about him? He doesn’t miss me or so it seems.

“Where are you?” I text him.

I don't hold my breath because this has become a constant practise with him. I text him and he doesn’t reply for hours. Also, his working late hours doesn't help me in any way. I feel ignored, neglected, and it's nothing new. This scares me. This scares the hell out of me. We were always busy with our own lives, but we were never too busy to reply to each other.

When did it come to this? Why are we so close but so far apart from each other?

After ten minutes, the phone buzzes and the wooden desk vibrates, disrupting the silence. I scoot forward to check it. Do I want this? Do I really want this? Do I want to live like this? My thoughts run amiss.

I deserve so much more. For better or for worse.

I wipe a silent tear, as I unlock the front screen to read a message from a guy who means the world to me.

“Sorry, love. I can't make it.” The message reads. Something inside me breaks. “Work is calling. I'll be over our place as soon as I can sort this crap out. Love you angel. X.”

I let the screen die as the words reverberate in my head. Okay, so it has come to this. I need to accept it. It’s not too late. Or is it? What I do in the next few minutes, is something I’ll probably regret for the rest of my life. I think I will. I have a strong intuition that tells me I might.

I pick up my phone and look for Daniel Miles’ number. I hit the dial button. Miles calling. Miles ringing. Miles picks up.

His voice drawls into a low whisper through the static. “Why are you still awake?"

"I never sleep this early,” I say. “Are you awake?"

"You called in sick today, remember?” He’s stating the obvious. He’s stating what he shouldn’t state, that there’s no hope, no volition, no sanity if I’m embarking on what I think I'm embarking on.

"Uh, umm, yeah. But I feel like eating something. But not alone,” I gulp. “I can use someone to talk to.”

"Cass is still working out late?" His fingers are drumming on a table, and it hums in the background pulling me into calmness.

“Yep,” I sigh.

"Want me to pick up Chinese and come over?” He’s treading the waters. “If you’d like.”

"Yeah... no," I can't bring him here. To our place. "Let's go somewhere. I feel like taking a walk."

"Okay then. Be there in fifteen. Wear something warm. It's cold outside.” He sounds happier now, I can feel his happiness seeping through this small electronic device. “You can get into a jumper whether you’re cold or not anymore.”

“Yes, all right."

The call ends.

“What have I done?” My inner conscience or voice, whatever, asks. “You've done what's right for you. You deserve what’s good for you. Looking out for yourself isn’t wrong. Remember?” The conscience answers its own questions.

I walk without looking, dazed in my thoughts, to my closet to pick out a warm sweater and a coat. I run a brush through my hair to escape the dilemma in my head. I need a distraction, so I start putting makeup on my face.

After I get ready, I slip on my boots and walk to the living room's sofa and plop myself down. New York gets awfully cold this time of the year. It’s cold, sticky, and dull. The combination I hate the most.

I check my phone's screen again. Five minutes and he'll be here. Five minutes before I lose all control over my life and my train of thoughts. And, probably over myself.

“You can’t fully commit, can you?” My inner voice goes off again. “Why can’t you?”

There's a knock on the front door. Sadly, I lost control over my thoughts a long time ago. There’s no point hiding it now. I walk and wrap my hands around my slim waist.

The door clicks as I open it. He's wearing his brown leather jacket and black boots, somehow, matching with mine. His forest green, somber eyes are a whole different story.

He pulls out his iPhone from his jeans pocket while slowly checking me out from top to bottom. He doesn’t hide it. He lets me know he’s watching, observing me. I kind of like it. A small smile smoothens his dark features.

"How many points?" I ask him.

"Huh?” He licks his lips, as he puckers the top one he's now biting on.

Daniel Miles is a fine man. There’s no denying that. He smells of fresh peppermint after wash and a woody essence which makes me slightly weak in the knees. He's standing really close to me, his back meeting the back of the door frame, and his right foot propped on the walls. He’s doing a lot of leaning. Sexy leaning. “Danger, it’s red!” my inner voice screams.

"You're checking me out. How. Many. Points?” I curl my mouth in pantomime distaste.

“Three.” He smirks.

I slap his shoulder, rolling my eyes. “Whatever.”

He laughs. “Six."

I take a step closer to him. He inhales harshly, lowering his head to mine and basking in the brownness of my eyes. He runs his wet tongue over his lower lip.

I lose my balance, and his long arms wrap themselves to my waist. The first moment his hands meet my body, electricity jolts my stomach. So, I keep my head up and stand slightly more upright to match his tall frame, whispering calmly in his right ear. ”Now?”

“Seven."

"You're an asshole,” I say. His grip tightens around me as a bubble of laughter erupts from both of our chests and envelops us.

"Ready to go?” He brings my body closer to his.

“Where?" I watch his eyes closely, his body postured towards mine. He’s close but still far away from me. He's keeping his distance as I asked.

"It's a surprise,” he mumbles on my ear lobe.

"I hate surprises,” I throttle.

"Nah, you love them." And he's right, I do love them. It's just a thing I say to everyone to not get disappointed or to build up expectations.

"You're a jerk.” I give him a look, trying to get away from him slightly.

“Eight,” he looks at me, his eyes moving slowly from my butt to my head.

“What?" I look at him wildly. Is he for real?

"Nine tops. You're getting hotter by the minute,” he chuckles, closing the distance I put forth, again.

"Why not ten?” I scoff.

"Lose your top. I'll give you a hundred,” he sneers with a laugh.

I nudge him in the stomach. "You're an egocentric, devious asshole."

I'm now locking the front door of my house. As I slip the keys in my purse, he slips his fingers in mine. We start walking to the basement of the building where the parking lot is.

As we're heading out to the front driveway, our breaths are short and icy, but I feel warm. Fuzzy. Exhilarated.

He walks ahead of me. His fingers suddenly leave mine and I'm now mourning the sudden loss of them. He clicks the front doors of the car open, and he opens the passenger door for me. I slide in as he takes the driver seat. As he's driving the car out of the parking space, his fingers find mine again in my coat pocket. He holds them tightly inside the pocket and continues driving as if it's the most casual thing in the world. As if he does this every day with everyone he meets.