Page 67 of Rent: Paid in Full
“How did it go?” I ask the second Miller enters our room. He looks pleased with himself. He always looks pleased with himself, so what I mean is he looks more pleased with himself than usual.
“I totally bombed.”
“What?” My voice hitches, and I clear my throat to correct it.
“Yep, crashed and burned, baby.”
“Uh, m-maybe it was okay. Maybe it’s one of those times where you think it sucked, but you did okay?”
“Nah. Failed outright. Failed so spectacularly there’s no way they’ll even offer me a retake.”
Fuck off!I say to the fist that instantly starts clenching.
It’s bad enough having my own anxiety. There’s no way in hell I can afford to start having anxiety on Miller’s behalf. I can’t do it. I don’t have the time. Or the inclination.
There’s something strange going on with Miller’s face. He looks happy and smug like always, but there’s something new there too. A disconcerting sort of peacefulness.
“Wait. Did you fail onpurpose?”
“A little bit, yeah.”
“Why?”
“Dunno. Guess I’ve been thinking about what you said. About pursuing a different degree or something.”
“Well, you better hope your dad’s happy to pay for your little one-eighty. You better hope he doesn’t make you get a job and pay back the money you’ve just wasted like a normal parent would. You may not know it, but not everyone has a sense ofhumor about throwing away good money. Some people don’t find it funny when—”
He pulls his shoulders up to his ears and his entire face creases into such a big, dumb smile that I lose my train of thought for a second.
“Aw…” His bottom lip juts out slightly. “Thanks, baby.”
That snaps me out of it. “Thanks for what?”
“Thanks for caring.”
I’m not even going to get started on that. Nope. Not touching it with a bargepole. “Are you ready to go?”
He shoves his phone and keys into his pocket, perfect teeth gleaming, “Yep, let’s do this.”
“Aren’t yo—”
It’s a close one, but I manage to stop myself there. Whether Miller chooses to wear a beanie, slouchy or not, is none of my business. Absolutely none. Literally does not have a thing to do with me.
It’s still early when we get to The Pardon, but the place is packed. Loud whoops and throaty screeches greet us as soon as we walk in. I can tell at a glance that at least half of the clientele have committed themselves to making bad decisions tonight. There are countless instances of “something stupid” on the agenda.
Bev would be pleased.
Miller holds the door open for me, and as I cross the threshold, the onslaught of people and eyes and noise makes me hesitate. His arm is around my neck immediately and his breath laps at my ear.
“It’s the same,” he whispers.
“The same as what?”
“The same as always.” He explains it slowly as if he’s talking to a child. “Nothing bad happens when you’re with me.”
I hate that he knows this about me. Absolutely hate it. And what’s even worse is the fact that my entire body relaxes the second he says it.
“Mac. A. Way!” bellows Trip.