Falling: Chapter 34

I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know how I went from wanting to rip his head off at that party a few months ago to being in a bar in Palm Springs on New Year’s Eve with Miles Davis.

The strangest part isn’t that I don’t know, it’s that I don’t care.

For some reason, being here, in a crowded bar with Miles’s hand on my back doesn’t make me scream. It makes me want to melt into him. We don’t have to pretend here, but being close to him is comforting and calming enough that I don’t question it.

The last week has been heaven. I know I should be training and preparing myself for competition season, but I’m sure I can spare a week. I deserve a week, and Miles has spent the last few days proving that to me. We’ve been eating, talking, traveling, and doing more talking. I’ve learnt a lot more about him and myself being here than I have in the last four months of knowing him.

We’ve still tried to keep up with working out and using the gym in the hotel, but we stay for an hour at most before running back to the room or the beach. It feels like nothing can touch us here.

All the pressure, the stress, the grief. It feels like the world is at our fingertips. Or maybe I’m just starting to feel the shots we took earlier.

It’s half an hour until midnight, and we’re desperately trying to speak over the loud music that’s reverberating off the walls.

“What was that?” Miles basically shouts in my ear, his hand on my waist, leaning his face to mine.

“I said that I’m going to stop being strict on drinking,” I shout back to him. A crooked grin splits across his face.

“Really? That’s your New Year’s resolution?”

“Yeah. I kind of like how it feels now. I feel like I’m floating,” I say.

“You’ve had, like, two shots, Wren. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you’re a lightweight.”

“I’m not!” I shout, pushing him in the chest.

“I put some water in your bag. Drink some, please. I can’t have my girl passing out on me,” Miles says, moving me with him as we walk around the room. If I could form real thoughts, I would thank him for being so responsible. For taking care of me. But all my thoughts latch on to those two words. My girl. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

“Does such a place even exist?” I ask.

“There’s a small room over there.” Miles points down a corridor with brighter lights than the dark ones in the main bar. I stand still, not willing to go down the sketchy hallway.

“I think that’s where all the orgies and murders happen,” I say, shuddering.

“There’s only one way to find out, Wrenny.” He smiles. “I got you.”

But as we start walking, someone shouts his name. He looks back at me, thinking it was me who called him. I shake my head and shrug.

“Miles!?” the shrill voice from behind us shouts again. We both t urn this time. A dark-haired woman walks toward us in a bejeweled silver dress, and I instantly recognize her.

My stomach tightens.

Miles has never been closed off about his ex-girlfriend, Emily Fraser. Mostly because she comes up a lot when he talks about Carter. She’s a shortish woman with dark-brown hair that cuts off at her shoulders. She studies marine biology at Drayton Hills, so she’s smart and gorgeous. She’s the opposite of me, and I can’t figure out if that’s a good thing or not. I take a little step back, and Miles’s hand wraps around my waist, pulling me into his side.

“Oh my god, it is you!” she shrieks, and before either of us can register, she pulls Miles into a hug, his hand slipping off me.

“It’s good to see you, Emily,” Miles says when she pulls away from him. His hand returns to me again. “This is Wren. My girlfriend.”

“So I heard,” Emily says as she gives me a once-over. Her fake smile doesn’t even reach her eyes. She turns back to Miles, ignoring my presence. “Are you staying in town for a bit?”

“Yeah, only until Monday. Our flight’s in the evening,” Miles explains.

“Aw, that’s tomorrow. If I had known, we could have hung out,” she says.

She comes closer to him, her hand resting on his chest. Okay. So we’re doing this. Miles doesn’t look at her. In fact, he looks straight over her head. It doesn’t take a genius to know that she’s drunk, and he’s too nice to tell her to fuck off.

“I miss you. I miss your body,” she murmurs, and that’s where I draw the line. I grab her hand and push it off him, pushing her back gently.

“Hi, I’m sorry, but I’m right fucking here. If you wanted to flirt with my boyfriend, you could have at least waited until I slipped away,” I say, coming in her face.

The darkness of the bar and the LED lights have given me a lot mo re confidence than I should have. I’m lucky I just tower over her in my stilettos or else I’d look ridiculous.

He might not be my real boyfriend, but he’s still mine in every way that counts. Anyone else looking at him like they want him is driving me crazy, and I hate myself for it.

“Miles, can you tell your girlfriend to chill?” Emily scoffs. She blinks up at Miles, but he steps back away from her, pulling me into him again.

“No, she’s right,” Miles says, looking at me and then back to her. “You don’t have the right to say shit like that anymore.”

“I can say what I want,’ she retorts, spluttering.

Miles groans, lowering his voice so only we can hear. “And Emily, you’re lucky I’m talking to you nicely because the last thing you deserve is nice. I don’t want to shout at you and cause a scene because I’m a decent human. So please, step back so me and my girlfriend can leave.”

She blinks at us, and I want to laugh so badly.

“Happy fucking New Year,” I say to Emily before grabbing the cuffs of Miles’s shirt and getting us the hell out of there. I know it was a petty thing to say, but it made my blood boil. Exes like that are not good for anybody. The kind of ones who want you back when you’ve moved on. That shit sucks.

We wait outside of the bar for a cab, not saying anything as we sit down on the sidewalk. There is something comforting about being around Miles in this setting, watching cars drive past and drunken strangers howl behind us. He’s sitting next to me, sighing loudly as he throws his head back, probably as frustrated as I am.

“Thank you for doing that,” I say quietly. I don’t know how it came out, but it’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m feeling emotional.

“Doing what?” he asks, turning his head to me.

“For not pretending I wasn’t there.”

“Why would I do that?” he asks, sounding genuinely confused. I shrug. “Have people done that to you before?”

“Not on purpose,” I admit. “I’ve always felt like I take up too much space because I’m so busy, and people poke fun at how I never have time for them. But when I was with Augustus, it was like he was trying to compete with me. Like he wanted to make me feel small and insignificant to make it easier. Sometimes, he’d just pretend I wasn’t there.”

The words fall out of my mouth at a stupid pace, spilling all my secrets like it’s nothing. It’s definitely the darkness. I don’t like oversharing this much, but with Miles, it seems too easy.

What shocks me is that he pulls me into a tight side hug, his strong arm tightening around me, and I fall into him for a second. “I would never do that to you, princess. Ever. You’re way too important to me.”

My heart does a weird flip at his words. “I’m important to you?” He nods. “As in, me? The girl who almost bitch-slapped your ex-girlfriend two seconds ago?”

“Yes, Wren,” he whispers, laughing quietly as he presses a kiss to my forehead, “You’re important to me.”

We go back to the hotel in silence, walking past people as they go down to get ready for the countdown in the lounge. We go back to our room, standing outside on the balcony, watching the early fireworks in the sky.

“That was hot,” Miles says, nudging me with his shoulder as we lean against the rail, looking out into the darkness. I turn to him and laugh.

“You’re like a horny teenager. You think everything is hot.”

He smirks. “Only when you do it.”

“Someone needed to get her in line,” I murmur. He turns to me, his left arm resting on the railing. I mirror his position and shudder as I say, “I hate that it made me so mad.”

“Can’t you just admit that you wanted to defend me? That you, not my fake girlfriend, but you wanted to defend me,” Miles says. His serious expression catches me off guard as he closes the space between us.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why can’t you just admit that you want me— like you said at Christmas? That you want me for real. Just as badly as I want you.”

“Miles,” I whisper, a half plea.

He steps closer toward me, our noses grazing as his breath hitches. “Tell me, Wren. Does this feel fake to you?”

I don’t say anything because it’s getting harder to deny the heavy want building inside me. That the past few days have been the most fun I’ve had in my life. That being with him makes me better. Happy. Whole. And I’ve never felt more alive in my life, and I never want that feeling to stop.

The countdown to New Year’s begins outside.

Ten.

“Miles, I can’t want you. You know that.”

Seven.

“That’s not what I asked. I’m asking you what you feel. What do you want, Wren?”

Two.

“I want you,” I whisper.

One.

Fireworks explode beside us as he grabs my face and pulls me into him, catching my lips with his.

Something magical and indescribable happens when our lips meet. I gasp at the suddenness of the kiss, and he uses the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth. I can feel myself floating. As if we’re existing outside of this moment. Maybe it’s the alcohol I had earlier or the heat between my legs, but I feel myself slipping away.

He pushes my head back, deepening the kiss as I moan into his mouth at the force of him. He’s not rough, but it’s hard enough that it shocks me a little and makes the intensity in my lower stomach build.

When I realize my hands have fallen limp at my sides, I reach up for the nape of his neck, curling my fingers into his hair. The hair that I have not been able to stop thinking about since I ran my fingers through it a few weeks ago. He guides us to the railing and pushes my back against it.

I come up for air, the wind blowing into my face as I tilt my head back. This time, I go back in gently, my teeth skimming his bottom lip. He smiles into the next kiss; even when his warm mouth touches mine, I can still feel him smiling.

God, we’re barely even kissing anymore as we just smile at each other like goofy high school kids, and I love it. One of his hands snakes around my waist, pulling me into him, my dress getting caught in the wind.

“You’re too good,” he murmurs, kissing along my jaw.

“Hm?”

“This— You— You’re too good, Wren. I think you might ruin me,” he replies, his voice shaky. The heat of his mouth and his words send another rush of pleasure through me.

“Let’s go inside,” I pant, locking my eyes with his. He responds by picking me up and wrapping my thighs around his middle, the fireworks still exploding behind us while more burst behind my eyelids.