Page 2 of Fighting Fate
Caught off guard, I'm jolted back to reality by his question. He's smirking as if he can read my thoughts. "You've got something right here," he says, pointing at my lip.
Shit. I did not just drool.
Stay cool, Milli. It's just a bit of spit, nothing more.
I quickly wipe my lip.
"Gotcha!" he says, flashing a wink as he walks backward. "But hey, it's flattering to be on your mind."
Heat creeps into my cheeks. "Keep dreaming, Sunshine," I retort, struggling to maintain my cool.
His laughter rings out as he points at me. "You got it, Baby Sutton. That's where you'd see how a true man treats a lady."
Did he really just say that?
Yes, he did, and so nonchalantly.
And sure, Miles has this way of "flirting" with me. In my mind, it's flirtation. To him? Likely just his style of playful teasing.
I watch him run off to the field, rolling my eyes. He might not be as affected by my presence as I am by his, but deep down, I relish that he sought me out first. It's a small victory, having Miles Chasen's undivided attention, even if just for a moment.
I shift my focus from him back to the field, catching Luke and his teammates head-butting their helmets in a pregame ritual. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Mom and Dad heading my way. Despite the storm brewing inside, I muster a polite smile and wave.
Chill, Milli.
"Yeah, yeah," I mutter under my breath, barely listening as Mom chimes in.
"Oh, Milli, don't act like supporting your brother is such a chore. He's always been there for your dance recitals, hasn't he?" She settles next to me, laying on the guilt.
She's not wrong. Luke's been my steadfast audience, except when football interfered. I should be grateful, right? But here I am, benched at a football game as a "punishment" for being ten minutes late—and for what? Tutoring, of all things. Seriously, aren't parents supposed to be thrilled about that kind of thing?
And yes, I'm that girl—a dancer and an English tutor, dreaming of a future where I teach both. I want to give back, to offer kids from less fortunate backgrounds the chance to dance and to learn, just like I did. Dance has shaped me, but it's not cheap. I can't even count the dollars poured into classes, costumes, shoes . . . you name it. That's why I'm set on making it accessible for those who can't afford it.
As I'm lost in thought, Dad leans in, whispering, "Don't mind her, Milli. Think about it—you've only got one more year to cheer for Luke. Then, it's all history."
He obviously forgets his own NFL dream is now Luke's. Like father, like son, they say.
Dodging that conversation, I nod along. "Right, Dad," I reply, eyes drifting back to the field, catching Miles in action.
He's something else—those arms, that build . . .
Focus, Milli.
But how? You'd think I'd be immune to his charms by now. Yet, the more I see him, especially after some time apart, the stronger the pull. Just one look at him, and my freaking heart races, my core tightens, and my legs instinctively squeeze together to ease the lingering discomfort. His magnetic presence makes my body react beyond my control.
Clearly, I need to deal with this issue.
Don't do it, Milli. Resist the urge.
I mockingly challenge my inner thoughts, thinking, Resist? Yeah, right. I purposefully grab my purse from the ground, intentionally averting my gaze. But just as I do, a hand lands on mine.
"Nope, not here. We're here to support your brother, end of story," a voice interrupts, grounding me in the moment. I exhale, annoyed, and slide my book back, just as Dad squeezes in between me and Mom, urging, "Focus, both of you."
Yeah, Dad, I had no idea this game was such a big deal.
The spring game is mainly a chance for the players to strut their skills for the fans, set the tone for the season, and maybe even predict how the team will perform.
Oh, by the way, did I mention that my football knowledge is basically unrivaled?