Finding Cinderella Maybe Someday

TATE
Miles: What are you doing?
Me: Homework.
Miles: Feel like taking a swim break?
Me: ??? It’s February.
Miles: The rooftop pool is heated. It doesn’t close for another hour.
I stare at the text, then immediately look up at Corbin.
“There’s a rooftop pool here?”
Corbin nods his head but doesn’t look away from the TV.
“Yep.”
I sit up straight. “Are you kidding me? I’ve lived here this
long, and you fail to tell me there’s a heated rooftop pool?”
He faces me now and shrugs. “I hate pools.”
Ugh. I could slap him.
Me: Corbin never mentioned there was a pool. Let me change, and I’ll
head over there.
Miles: ;)
• • •
I realize I forgot to knock as soon as I close the door to his
apartment. I always knock. I guess my mentioning in a text

---

that I was coming over after I changed seemed good
enough to me, but the way Miles is staring at me from the
doorway of his bedroom makes me think he doesn’t like the
fact that I didn’t knock.
I pause in his living room and look at him, waiting to see
what mood he’s in today.
“You’re in a bikini,” he says pointedly.
I look down at my attire. “And shorts,” I say defensively. I
look back up at him. “What are people supposed to wear
when they swim in February?”
He’s still standing frozen in his doorway, staring at my
attire. I fold my towel across my arms and over my stomach.
I suddenly feel extremely awkward and underdressed.
He shakes his head and finally begins moving toward me.
“I just . . .” He’s still staring at my bikini. “I hope no one is
up there, because if you’re wearing that bikini, these swim
shorts are going to be really embarrassing.” He looks down
at his shorts. At the obvious bulge in them.
I laugh. So he actually 
likes
the bikini.
He takes another step forward and slides his hands around
to the back of my shorts, then pulls me against him. “I
changed my mind,” he says with a grin. “I want to stay
here.”
I immediately shake my head. “I’m going swimming,” I
say. “You can stay here if you want, but you’ll be alone.”
He kisses me, then backs me toward his apartment door.
“Then I guess I’m going swimming,” he says.
• • •
Miles enters the passcode for rooftop access, then opens the
door for me. I’m relieved to see that no one else is out here,
and I am taken by how breathtakingly beautiful it is. It’s an
infinity pool, overlooking the city, and it’s lined with patio
chairs, all the way to the opposite end, where it’s capped off
with an attached hot tub.

---

“I can’t believe neither of you thought to mention this
before now,” I say. “All these months, and I’ve been missing
out.”
Miles takes my towel and lays it on one of the tables
surrounding the pool. He walks back over to me and drops
his hands to the button on my shorts. “This is actually the
first time I’ve ever been out here.” He unzips my shorts and
pushes them over my hips. His lips are close to mine, and
his expression is playful. “Come on,” he whispers. “Let’s get
wet.”
I kick off the shorts at the same time as he takes off his
shirt. The air is incredibly cold, but the steam rising from the
water is promising. I walk to the shallow end to descend the
steps, but Miles dives headfirst into the deep end of the
pool. I step in, and my feet are swallowed up in the warmth
of the water, so I quickly step in the rest of the way. I make
my way toward the middle of the pool and walk to the edge,
then rest my arms on the concrete ledge looking out over
the city.
Miles swims up behind me and cages me in by pressing
his chest against my back and placing his hands on either
side of the ledge. He rests his head against mine as we both
take in the view.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
He’s quiet.
We watch the city in silence for what seems like forever.
Every now and then, he’ll cup his hands and bring water up
to my shoulders to warm my chills away.
“Have you always lived in San Francisco?” I ask him. I turn
so that my back is against the ledge now and I’m facing
him. He keeps his arms on either side of me and nods.
“Close to it,” he says, still looking at the city over my
shoulder.
I want to ask him where, but I don’t. I can tell by his body
language that he doesn’t want to talk about himself. He
never wants to talk about himself.

---

“Are you an only child?” I ask, trying to see what I can get
away with. “Any brothers or sisters?”
He looks me in the eyes now. His lips are pressed into a
firm, agitated line. “What are you doing, Tate?” He doesn’t
ask it in a rude way, but there’s no other way his question
can come across.
“Just making conversation,” I say. My voice is soft and
sounds offended.
“I can think of a lot more things I’d rather talk about than
myself.”
But that’s all I want to know about, Miles.
I nod, understanding that although I’m technically not
breaking his rules, I’m bending them. He doesn’t feel
comfortable with that.
I turn around and face the ledge again. He’s still in the
same position, pressed against me, but it’s different now.
He’s stiff. Guarded. Defensive.
I don’t know anything about him. I don’t know a single
thing about his family, and he’s already met mine. I don’t
know a single thing about his past, but he’s slept in my
childhood bed. I don’t know what subjects I bring up or what
actions I take that will cause him to close off, but I’ve got
nothing to hide from him.
He sees me for exactly who I am.
I don’t see him at 
all.
I quickly bring a hand up and wipe away a tear that
somehow just escaped down my cheek. The absolute last
thing I want is for him to see me cry. As much as I know I’m
too far gone to continue treating this as casual sex, I’m also
too far gone to stop it. I’m terrified to lose him for good, so I
sell myself short and take what I can from him, even though
I know I deserve better.
Miles places a hand on my shoulder and turns me around
to face him. When I choose to stare down at the water
instead, he hooks a finger under my chin and makes me
look up at him. I allow him to tilt my face up to his, but I

---

don’t make eye contact. I look up and to the right,
attempting to blink back the tears.
“I’m sorry.”
I don’t even know what he’s apologizing for. I don’t even
know if 
he
knows what he’s apologizing for. But we both
know my tears have everything to do with him, so he’s more
than likely just apologizing for that simple reason alone.
Because he knows he’s incapable of giving me what I want.
He stops making me look at him and instead pulls me to
his chest. I rest my ear against his heart, and he rests his
chin on top of my head.
“Do you think we should stop?” he asks quietly. His voice
is fearful, like he’s hoping my answer is no, yet he feels
compelled to ask me anyway.
“No,” I whisper.
He sighs heavily. It sounds like it could be a sigh of relief,
but I’m not sure. “If I ask you something, will you be honest
with me?”
I shrug, because there’s no way I’m answering that with a
yes until I hear his question first.
“Are you still doing this with me because you think I’ll
change my mind? Because you think there’s a chance I’ll fall
in love with you?”
That’s the
only 
reason I’m still doing this, Miles.
I don’t say that out loud, though. I don’t say anything.
“Because I 
can’t
, Tate. I just . . .” His voice fades away,
and he grows quiet. I analyze his words and the fact that he
said 
I can’t
rather than 
I won’t
. I want to ask him 
why
he
can’t. Is he scared? Is it because I’m not right for him? Is he
afraid he’ll break my heart? I don’t ask him, because none
of his answers to these questions would reassure me. None
of these scenarios is reason enough to absolutely deny a
heart happiness.
Which is why I don’t question him, because I feel like
maybe I’m not prepared for the truth. Maybe I’m
underestimating whatever it was that happened in his past

---

to make him this way. Because 
something
happened.
Something I more than likely couldn’t relate to, even if I
found out what it was. Something that stole the spirit right
out of him, just like Cap said.
His arms pull me in tighter, and the hold he has on me
speaks volumes. It’s more than an embrace. More than a
hug. He’s holding me like he’s terrified I’d drown if he were
to release me.
“Tate,” he whispers. “I know I’ll regret saying this, but I
want you to hear it.” He pulls back just enough for his lips to
meet my hair, then grips me tightly again. “If I were capable
of loving someone . . . it would be you.” My heart cracks
with his words, and I feel the hope seep in and leak right
back out again. “But I’m not capable. So if it’s too hard—”
“It’s not,” I interrupt, doing whatever I can to stop him
from ending this. I somehow find it in me to look him in the
eyes and tell the best lie I’ve ever told in my whole life. “I
like things exactly how they are.”
He knows I’m lying. I can see the doubt in his concerned
eyes, but he nods anyway. I try to get his mind off of it
before he sees right through me. I wrap my arms loosely
around his neck, but his attention is pulled to the door,
which is now opening. I turn, too, and see Cap slowly
shuffling his way onto the rooftop deck. He walks toward the
switch on the wall that turns off the jets to the hot tub. He
flips it off and slowly turns back toward the door but not
before noticing us out of the corner of his eye. He turns and
faces us full on, standing no more than five feet away.
“That you, Tate?” he says, squinting.
“It’s me,” I say, still in the same position with Miles.
“Hmm,” Cap says, taking us both in. “Anyone ever told the
two of you that you make a pretty darn good-looking
couple?”
I wince, because I know this isn’t the best moment for
Miles to hear that, especially after the awkward

---

conversation we just had. I also know what Cap is up to with
that comment.
“We’ll shut the lights off when we leave, Cap,” Miles says,
ignoring Cap’s question and redirecting the conversation.
Cap narrows his eyes at him, shakes his head as though
he’s disappointed, and begins to turn back to the door. “It
was a rhetorical question anyway,” he mumbles. I see his
hand go up to his forehead, and he salutes the air in front of
him. “Good night, Tate,” he says loudly.
“Good night, Cap.”
Miles and I both watch until the door closes behind Cap. I
pull my hands away from his neck and gently push against
his chest until he steps back in order for me to make my
way around him. I swim backward toward the other side of
the pool.
“Why are you always so rude to him?” I ask.
Miles lowers himself in the water, parting his arms in front
of him and kicking off the wall behind him. He swims toward
me, and I watch as his eyes remain focused on mine. I swim
backward until my back is against the opposite wall of the
pool. He continues toward me, almost crashing into me, but
he stops himself by gripping the ledge on both sides of my
head, sending waves of water against my chest.
“I’m not rude to him.” His lips meet my neck, and he
kisses it softly, trailing slowly upward until his mouth is
close to my ear. “I just don’t like answering questions.”
I think we’ve established that already.
I pull my neck away a few inches in order to see his face. I
try to focus on his eyes, but there are drops of water on his
lips, and it’s hard not to stare. “He’s an old man, though.
You’re not supposed to be rude to old people. And he’s
pretty damn funny, if you’d just get to know him.”
Miles laughs a little. “You like him, huh?” He seems
amused.
I nod. “Yeah. I like him a lot. Sometimes I like him more
than I like 
you
.”

---

He laughs loudly this time and leans in again, planting a
kiss on my cheek. His hand conforms to the nape of my
neck, and his eyes drop to my mouth. “I like that you like
him,” he says, bringing his eyes up to mine. “I won’t be rude
to him again. Promise.”
I bite my lip so that he doesn’t see how much I want to
smile at the fact that he just made me a promise. It was a
simple promise. But it still feels good.
He slides his hand around to my jaw, and his thumb meets
my lip. He pulls it away from my teeth. “What did I tell you
about hiding that smile?” He takes my bottom lip between
his teeth and bites it gently, then releases it.
It feels as if the temperature in the pool just shot up
twenty degrees.
His mouth meets my throat, and he breathes out a heavy
sigh against my skin. I tilt my head back and let it rest
against the ledge of the pool as he kisses his way down my
neck.
“I don’t want to swim any more,” he says, sliding his lips
from the base of my throat all the way up to my mouth
again.
“Well, then, what do you want to do?” I whisper weakly.
“You,” he says without hesitation. “In my shower. From
behind.”
I swallow a huge gulp of air and feel it fall all the way to
the pit of my stomach. “Wow. That’s very specific.”
“And also in my bed,” he whispers. “With you on top, still
soaking wet from the shower.”
I inhale sharply, and we can both hear the tremble of my
breath as I exhale. “Okay,” I try to say, but his mouth is on
mine before the word is even all the way out.
And once again, what should have been an eye-opening
conversation for me is shoved aside to make room for the
only thing he’s willing to give me.

---

chapter thirty