Page 7 of Fighting Fate
She looks away, but not before I catch a spark of intensity in her eyes. Is she experiencing this magnetic pull as well?
Or is it only me? I can't ignore the feelings that have been quietly building. And really, who wouldn't be drawn to Milli? She exudes a Sarah Michelle Gellar but with an added layer of her unique Milli Sutton charm.
It's been months since we really hung out, just a few texts and FaceTime calls. I let my hand drift along her arm, and her reaction is instant—those wide eyes, the goosebumps. What's she thinking?
As she attempts to step back, I instinctively tighten my hold, surprised by how her hips fit just right in my hands. Instead of stepping back again, she moves in, closing any space left between us. My heart kicks into overdrive, mirroring the intensity of a game's final moments. Then, there it is—the familiar look in her eyes, brimming with a challenge.
The urge to lean in, draw her near, and press my lips to hers swirls tumultuously within me.
But then she steps back, allowing me a moment to catch my breath and collect myself. "I was just on my way to the restroom. Lucky I caught you, or that could've been a nasty fall."
She points at my chest, her touch firm. "The only reason I almost fell is you and your sudden linebacker build," she teases, her fingers pressing against my chest. "What's up with that? You weren't this bulked up last summer?"
A little more observant, aren't we, Mills?
I can't help but laugh, shaking my head. Milli, who used to be more on the reserved side, has really started pushing my buttons as we've gotten older. And I'm here for it, especially when her "compliments" come wrapped in a bit of sass. It's like she's dipping her toes into uncharted waters, and honestly, I'm ready to dive in after whatever she's tossing my way.
Her hand meets my chest with a light push, making me grin. It's clear, even in these small moments, that I'm getting to her somehow, and that's oddly satisfying.
"Can you," she starts, pushing against me, "just get," another shove, "this ridiculously huge," and one more, "body out of my way?" She keeps trying to push me back, but honestly, she might as well be pushing against a wall. She's strong with that dancer's build, but I'm standing my ground. Not to brag, but I've worked hard on this physique. It's a well-sculpted eight-pack with a little trail leading down to...well, you know.
I've had my share of battles, scars and all, but there's something about Milli's comments on my body...it's an undeniable high. "You looking to handle all this, Mills?" I tease, smirking and arching an eyebrow, a blend of pride and something else. Not that I care what she thinks.
Sure you don't, Miles.
Just as she's about to sidestep me, she presses her finger harder against my chest, stirring something inside me.
"Calm down, big guy," I whisper to myself, trying to keep it cool.
Milli's laugh breaks through; that real, unguarded one not many get to hear. "In your dreams," she fires back.
I catch her finger, pulling her close enough to whisper, my lips barely brushing her ear. "Nah, it's you who's dreaming, Baby Sutton."
She halts, tilting back slightly, our faces just inches apart. Her eyes lift to mine, widening momentarily. In them, I catch a spark, a hint of mischief. "Maybe," she answers with an effortless ease, and then glides by me as if our exchange was the most natural thing in the world.
What on earth was that about? Doesn't she realize she can't drop comments like that without making my cock harder than a shot of straight whiskey?
Feeling the need to adjust myself again, I notice an elderly lady watching me as she exits the restroom. Great. I wave awkwardly, and she blushes, fanning herself. Milli, of course, finds this hilarious.
I shoot her a look and silently mouth, "You're dead," with a mock throat-slash gesture. Her laughter only grows. The elderly lady appears taken aback, shaking her head and murmuring, "Kids these days." Despite myself, I find Milli's laughter infectious and join in.
Fucking hell, this woman. Her teasing has definitely kicked up a notch tonight. Not that it's a hardship; more like a turn-on. Before heading into the restroom, I throw over my shoulder, "Oh, and tell Payson I can't make it tonight."
Her eyes narrow, wondering how I'm privy to her plans at Club Zero. I'm always in the loop, forever on the guest list. With an eye roll, she turns and walks off, leaving me admiring her perfect dancer's ass as she returns to our table.
When Payson said we were hitting up Club Zero, I had a picture in my head, you know? Payson's the type to have her quirks; pretty set in her ways and all that. Clubs, I get it, they're usually all about the buzz and chaos, but I wasn't prepared for this scene. Instead of the whole shebang—bright lights, blasting tunes, a crowd getting down—it's just a few people milling around, chatting in little clusters.
I pull a face as I knock back the last of my vodka water. It's got this weird tang, sorta bitter, kinda like seawater with a kick. But hey, it's my go-to. It doesn't wreck me the next day, and with college dance tryouts in June and it already being late April, I need to keep my head in the game, both mentally and physically. I haven't nailed down a college yet, but I'm eyeing two, and they're both scouting for top-notch dancers.
Right up my alley.
Waving over the bartender, I flash my ID again. Okay, it's not really mine, unless you squint and say Chasandra Iden's my twin. The bartender didn't even double-take when I showed it. How did I get it? Let's just say it kinda fell into my lap when I hopped into Payson's car. She flicked it my way as I got comfy. Deep down, I know it's dicey, but hey, you're only a high school senior once, right? Gotta grab life by the horns or something—however that quote goes.
The bartender pushes another vodka water toward me, offering a wink. His gaze lingers on me a tad longer than comfortable, dripping with an attempt at charm, making me feel a bit uneasy. A little less try-hard would be nice, right?
Swiveling toward my friend Brooke, I ask, "So, this is what clubs are these days, huh?" She's lost in her phone, probably texting Jordan. They're like that picture-perfect couple, glued together since freshman year. Saw them once in the rain, him being all knight-in-shining-armor, holding her books and an umbrella. Totally melted my inner romantic.
Their thing is straight out of some love story book, maybe a bit PG, but who's to say what happens when no one's watching, right? Suddenly, I'm caught up in a daydream, imagining landing a guy just like that...