I shake my head at him, laughing. I'm glad he did that for me because he's right. The only thing that can help people heal is time and the ability to find yourself on your own.
He's something else. Something so completely different and I can't enough of it.
"You're insane, Milsey," I whisper and he grins at me.
I start to pull my top over my head, turned away from him in my mirror but he creeps up behind me and finishes pulling it over me.He presses featherlight kisses onto my bare back where and I can see myself slowly dissolving into him.
I try and wiggle out of his grip when I realise he's seeing more than he should. It's not that dark in my room so he can definitely make out the faint scars and bruises on my back from hundreds of childhood accidents and training mistakes.
"Do these hurt?" his voice sounds strangled as he speaks into my skin.
"No." I swallow. "Most of them are old."
"How come I didn't notice them before?"
I don’t know when we got to the point where every touch from him feels like fire, but it did. Hot molten lava each time he so much as brushes past me. Now, it's at full intensity as he kisses across my shoulderblades.
"Because I didn't let you," I reply.
"You don't have to hide from me, Wren," he says. This is why being with him feels like too much. Because he says things like that to me, healing my inner-child as I want to fall apart in his arms.
"I'm not. I just hate how they look," I admit. I watch him in the mirror as his face is entirely concentrated on my back, his forefinger tracing a pattern across my skin. "What are you doing?"
"Telling you how beautiful you are by drawing hearts on your back," he whispers seriously, continuing to do so.
"Taylor really got to you, didn't she?" I joke but he doesn't laugh. He turns me around and I don't think I've ever seen him this serious before. He holds onto my shoulders, almost shaking them as he looks me directly in the eyes.
"You do realise that your body is made for one thing, don't you? It's meant to keep you alive. That's it. It's not going to be perfect all the time," he tells me.
"I know that. I just...I just don't like how it looks. That's all."
He swallows, his eyes softening, almost frustrated. "I love how it looks. You look like a warrrior, Wren. Hardcore."
Hardcore
That word.
Again.
The words get stuck in my throat. I would scream them if I was brave enough but I don't. Instead, I kiss him on the cheek and I break away from him, but he keeps his hands on my bare stomach when I reach over to get my outfit.
“Who are you dressing up as?” he asks as I unpin my bra and start to step into the sparkly dress beneath me.
“I’m disappointed that you are asking me such a question,” I say dramatically. He shrugs at me with an adorably innocent expression. “I’m assuming you know who Taylor Swift is.”
I tease him on purpose because I know how he tries to hide his obsession with her. “Doesn’t ring a bell,” he replies sarcastically, and I flip him off.
“Anyway, the jumpsuit that she wore on her 1989 tour is one of her most iconic outfits to exist. It’s an inside joke. Kennedy will get it,” I explain, swaying the sparkly skirt in the mirror. I apply red lipstick to complete the look.
“I have no idea what any of that means but you look hot,” Miles says, wrapping his hands around my waist. “I'm dresses as the doting boyfriend, obviously.”
“Perfect. Your hot is really popping out now,” I reply, laughing. He pulls my back further into him, his chin resting on my shoulder. “Don’t you think we work better apart? You won the college cup, and I won the championships. Isn’t it weird that we did that without each other?”
I don’t know what made me continue speaking but it’s all that is on loop in my mind. I want to move on, and I want to let myself be happy with him but there’s large warning signs in my brain that are telling me that I was more productive when we were apart.
“But we didn’t do it without each other. Not really, anyway,” Miles murmurs into my skin.
“What do you mean?” He lifts his head up. His face softens and his eyes connect with mine.
