Page 29 of Fighting Fate
Furthermore, we are just friends—no more, no less. I need to reign in my tendency to overanalyze. It was just an innocent peck on my stomach, a moment of playfulness, right? He's probably long since moved on. After all, he quickly got over what happened that night at the club. And from what I can tell, he appears to have left the "incident" at the party in the past.
Before I can react, our group halts in the heart of the campus. Suddenly, Brooke grabs my arm and draws me aside, saying, "Sorry, Miles, but Milli and I are grabbing lunch together. Maybe another time?"
"Hey, look who's here," Payson exclaims, joining us and enveloping both me and Brooke in a hug. She then turns her attention to Miles. "Chasen, good to see you, and your tongue, are still intact, huh? I half-expected it might have disappeared into Milli's belly after the other night."
What the heck? I playfully elbow her, maybe a bit harder than usual, and nervously chuckle.
Can she be any less subtle?
She tilts her head back and laughs, "Oh, but wait, it did."
I let out a sigh and mutter, "Give it a rest, Pay."
Even as her eyes danced with playfulness, she pinned me with an intense look. "Seriously, it's true. Everyone at that party saw right through you two." Dropping her arm, she fanned her face. "Whew, just reminiscing about it is enough to make me all flustered."
"Real mature, Payson," Miles quips.
A shadow of disappointment clings to me following Miles' indifferent reaction; it is clear our previous encounter hasn't touched him at all. I want to speak up, to defend myself somehow, but before the words can form, Brooke changes the subject. "Hey, how about we talk about something else? Like what we're doing this weekend?"
Payson shrugs. "Sure, we could hit up that new club downtown. I heard they have a killer DJ."
Rolling my eyes once more, I interrupt the conversation. "As enjoyable as this chat has been, I won't be hitting any parties this weekend." Miles seems to relax a bit, his eyes softening—almost a hint of relief? I go on, "The football team has a bi-week and then the following week is their first away game, which translates to more dance practice for me. Speaking of dance practice..." I say.
"Let me go walk with you," Brooke offers, grabbing my arm again.
I brush her off. "I'm good, really. Thanks, though."
"Milli, at least let me walk you to the studio. It's right on my way," Miles insists, his gaze holding mine with a gentle intensity.
Man, why does saying no to him have to be like climbing Mt. Everest?
I still manage a nonchalant smile and say, "Yeah, sure."
After farewells to Brooke and Payson, we start off. My heart is doing somersaults. Miles' presence is like a warm blanket on a cold night, and his scent, a mix of musk and sandalwood, is downright heady. It sends my feelings into a tailspin.
"So," Miles begins, slicing through our quiet bubble, "what's your plan for the rest of the day?"
"Not much. Just one class today. Last week was hectic with three, so it's nice having a lighter week. But I've got dance practice later. Coach is having us try on new uniforms for the next game. Seems we're updating to match the new university colors."
"Oh," he trails off.
"Just 'oh'?" I tease, eyebrow arched.
His grin is infectious, a laugh booming out that could shake leaves from trees. "Just imagining 'Little Milli' all decked out in her Panthers' gear. The old ones looked great on you, though," he adds with a wink.
He isn't wrong. The old uniforms feel new to me. Miles' reaction at that first game had been...memorable, much like the look he is giving me now. Warmth climbs up my neck, my cheeks likely flushing a deep shade of red. "You'll catch the new ones at the next game," I manage to say, fighting back a grin.
Not that it is a secret—we'll be side by side all season.
His smug smile weighs on me, even as I force my gaze forward.
Reaching the dance studio, Miles' fingers graze my arm ever so slightly, the faint contact sends a ripple of goosebumps across my skin. You'd think I'd be used to his touch, but nope, not happening.
"Your plans for today?" I ask, poking fun. "Let me guess: Football?"
He mockingly gestures a win. "Bingo, Baby Sutton."
His usual spark seems dimmed at the mention of football. Something is up. "You okay? You don't seem up for football today."