Page 40 of Marisol Acts the Part

It doesn’t matter now—shouldn’t matter. While I’ve moved past him, the piece of me that loved him still has a dozen questions. The girl who showed up to Capri that night thinking she’d come home with some leftover tiramisu, not a broken heart, is curious.

He shrugs, leaning back against the cracked open window behind him, staring up at the lazily spinning ceiling fan. “I guess we’ll never know.”

We let that sit out in the open. The final remnants of who we used to be, finally put to rest. Something I never thought I’d say comes to the forefront of my mind as I snuggle back into my cocoon and think about everything that’s happened this summer.

I’m glad Miles broke up with me. If he hadn’t, maybe I would be that girl he worried I’d become.

Hung up on her long-distance boyfriend, waiting around for the day she gets to visit him.

Life now isn’t perfect by any means, but at least I challenged myself.

I came to a city I barely knew, lived with the family I knew even less, and pushed myself to tackle the type of role I never thought I was capable of performing.

I pushed myself to my limits—no pun intended—and learned how strong I am in the process.

I refused to let the world underestimate me.

I met a girl and kissed her on the dance floor. A girl I can’t believe thinks I’m as beautiful as she is.

After everything, this breakup brought me a new life, a chance to reconnect with my family. To get to know my dad and Jerome and Abuela and Kevin.

To be with Jamila.

“We’re older now, Mari,” Miles continues when I don’t respond.

“We’re different people than we were at fourteen, and that’s a good thing.

I didn’t mean to make you feel ashamed because our tastes aren’t the same.

All I wanted was for you to be happy—to pursue whatever it is you wanted to do. Even if that didn’t involve me.”

I nod in understanding, wiping at the few tears that managed to slip down my cheeks.

I’m not not pissed that he thought he got to decide that for me, but less so now that I know he wasn’t throwing salt in the wound at the same time.

Maybe I’ll always be a little bitter about the breakup.

But at least I don’t feel the need to think back and wonder what we could’ve been anymore.

“I’m sorry for coming here,” I say, wiping my cheek. “I know it was weird, but…I got so in my head about everything. I wanted to prove that I wasn’t what you, and others, thought I was.”

“I’m sorry I made you think you had anything to prove,” he says softly, shifting closer until his hand is resting on my knee. “There’s nothing wrong with Avalon Grove. With those rom-coms you auditioned for—and should’ve booked, by the way. The Limit isn’t better because it’s won a few awards.”

“A lot of awards,” I interject.

“Even a lot of awards.” He chuckles, shoving me playfully. “What matters is what you want to do. And if you don’t want to work on this show anymore, that’s okay.”

“Thanks, Miles.” I sniffle, wiping at my runny nose with the sleeve of my hoodie, not dwelling on how gross I must look. “That means a lot.”

Miles gives me that smile—the same one that made me fall for him four years ago. It doesn’t make my heart race the way it used to, but I can’t deny that it’s a pretty stunning smile. His face moves in closer to mine, his eyes slowly slip closed as he goes to cup my cheek, and—

Wait, what?!

I leap out of bed, nearly tripping over my tangle of blankets in my rush to get out of the path of Miles’s puckered lips. “Whoa, whoa—”

“Oh God, my bad, I’m sorry,” Miles apologizes, jumping off the bed too and pressing himself to the opposite wall as he runs a frantic hand through his hair. “I—I thought we had a vibe going and—”

“I’m with Jamila,” I blurt out before I can consider the consequences of telling him.

Jamila asked if I wanted her to share the news with Miles on our behalf, but I told her I’d rather give it some time.

Let us all move on from our nightmarish breakup before dropping the bomb that I’m dating his love interest.

“Oh. Wow. That’s…wow.” Miles lets out a humorless but not unkind laugh. He shakes his head, clearly struggling to deal with the whiplash of what I’ve told him. “Congrats?”

“Thanks?” I reply, both of us turning our statements into questions.

Miles runs both hands down his face, groaning as he pulls his blemish-free skin down like he’s a melting Halloween mask.

“We’re trying to keep things low-key.”

“Right. Totally. Your secret’s safe with me.” He holds up a pair of crossed fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

The silence returns, and not the thoughtful kind. Miles shifts awkwardly, running a hand down his jacket as he eyes the doorway. Down the hall, I spot Jerome poking his head out from the kitchen again, backing away when he realizes I instantly spotted him.

Finally, Miles turns around to face me again instead of staring at the wall and holds out his hand. “Friends?”

I bite back a laugh when I notice how intensely his hand is shaking. Like he’s settling a deal with the devil instead of asking his ex to be friends again. I pull him into a hug. “Only if you keep bringing me doughnuts.”