Page 75 of Fighting Fate
Was our connection always charged with this much intensity? She opens her mouth slightly, her lips softly seizing my upper one in a kiss that's both gentle and fervent. I pour every repressed emotion into this kiss, releasing a flood of pent-up feelings. My hands find her waist, my thumbs caress her sides with the utmost care. Her foot slides up and down my leg, her movements pressing her against me in a tantalizing rhythm. As my tongue tentatively traces her upper lip, her response is playful, inviting a dance of mutual desire.
Cradling the side of her face, my fingers trail down to encircle her neck. Our kiss deepens, becomes more fervent, our tongues exploring in a synchronized ballet of passion. A soft moan escapes her, stirring a growl from deep within me. "Fuck, Mills."
In a fluid motion, driven by instinct, I scoop her up, her arms and legs encircling me in a seamless, intimate hold. I carry her toward the locker room vanity, setting her down gently. Our lips separate, but merely by a whisper's distance, her legs winding around mine, pulling us to the edge of a boundary I've only fantasized about crossing.
What would it be like to have my cock inside her? To kiss her sweet pussy, to discover her taste?
A faint blush dusts her cheeks as she looks at me, her gaze piercing, as if she's reading every unspoken thought.
Her finger beckons me closer, a silent invitation I'm powerless to resist.
I lean in, her hands finding a firm hold on my shoulders, ready to lose ourselves again in the heat of our connection. But then, the insistent buzz of my phone shatters the spell, vibrating obnoxiously on the sink beside us.
Fucking incredible timing . . .
Our foreheads meet, a shared sigh of frustration and resignation escaping us. The room is filled with the persistent buzzing, a stark reminder of the world outside this moment.
Reluctantly, I step back to check the message, a nagging intuition urging me to see who it is.
When I do, the message isn't what I anticipate.
Kins: Hey, Miles. We tried calling you earlier today, but you must have been busy.
Busy is an understatement, I muse to myself, reflecting on the intense, whirlwind moments that just unfolded.
Reading further, the message hits like a cold wave.
Kins: Dr. Reynolds wants you in for another scan.
That sinking feeling in my gut tells me this isn't routine. More scans usually mean they've found something in the initial one.
Milli's hand gently touches mine, drawing my attention. I quickly hide my phone, hoping she hasn't caught a glimpse of the message.
I try to convince myself it's nothing, giving her a strained smile that I know doesn't fully light up my eyes.
I release her hand to grab our towels, which, to my relief, are placed side by side. A small favor from the universe in an otherwise unsettling moment.
Wrapping the towel around my waist, I take Milli's hand again. She seems to have withdrawn slightly, a change I can't ignore. The heat of the moment has cooled into a more somber reality.
Gently, I guide her to her feet, wrapping her snugly in the towel. My arms fold around her in a natural embrace, a silent promise of comfort. For a moment, a precious, fleeting moment, as she leans into the circle of my arms, the looming worries and the heavy silence between us lose their grip. It's her—her nearness, the soft heat radiating from her—that scatters the clouds of anxiety, wrapping us in a serene bubble of peace, if only for a heartbeat.
She retreats slightly, yet remains within the circle of my arms, and in this instant, she's more than just my best friend—she's a haven, a source of calm in the storm. It feels right, like a missing piece falling into place.
Casting one last look her way, my fingers delicately raise her chin. Our gazes lock, and as her eyelids flutter shut in expectancy, I lean forward but, at the last moment, shift to the left, pressing a gentle kiss near the corner of her lips. She responds with a soft, understanding sigh, a look of mingled emotions playing across her face. It requires every ounce of my resolve to erase that expression from my mind. But I do. I collect my belongings, and with a heart caught in a whirlwind of feelings, I take my shit and leave the locker room.
"So, he just left without a word?" Payson asks, her voice laced with disbelief. "No goodbye, no playful banter? You didn't even toss him a witty line like, 'Hope you enjoyed the show?'" Her chuckle is infectious.
Brooke, standing by the dance studio mirrors, joins in, her hands theatrically placed on her chest; a comical imitation of me. "Like, 'Thanks for getting cozy with my chest.'"
I shake my head, laughter fading to a soft smile, my voice a whisper of confession. "Just friends." The distance college life has put between us—me with my dance and tutoring, Payson with her RA duties, and Brooke lost in her sorority life—has made these reunions rare. Their presence makes all the difference...I've been itching to share all the details with them, but texting just wouldn't do it justice.
"Mmhm, 'just friends,' keep telling yourself that, Milli," Payson teases, an all-knowing smirk playing on her lips.
Brooke gives her a gentle nudge, the quiet between them saying more than words ever could.
I push aside that nagging little voice in my head, trying to convince myself there is no reason to get all worked up about Miles and our recent encounter. Since being at school, whenever we cross paths, we've exchanged smiles, said hi, even stopped to talk about what was going on that day. But now, it feels like something shifted between us last week. I've texted him a few times to check in, but he replies with a casual, "Yes, Mills" or "Yeah, just busy."
His responses only serve to send my mind into a whirlwind of emotions. I can't stop wondering: Are we truly okay? Did he enjoy what happened between us? Does he want to repeat it? Jeez Louise, just the thought of it consumes me all over again.