"Mom would never do this," I murmur, laughing at my dad's persistence.
"Good job I'm not your mom. Isn't it, kiddo?" dad adds before cutting the call on me.
CHAPTER 15
MILES
Ihad no fucking clue what to wear to this thing and all Wren said was to “wear something nice.” Because that was so much help. I raided my closet, and it turns out that I have nothing nice to wear. Not even anything decent. I can’t show up to a fancy event with my fake girlfriend’s dad looking like an orphan.
Luckily, I knew just the person to ask.
Evan got me a link to a good tailor who wasn’t crazy expensive, and I dug into my savings to buy myself a suit and bow tie. It’s nothing too flashy but it should be enough for the occasion and considering the price, maybe even my wedding.
I thought I would be more nervous but I’m mostly just excited to get a weekend away with her. Although our ‘contract’ says we should have sleepovers once a week, we’ve really only done that a few times. We were both too awkward over the whole ordeal so whenever it got late, we slipped out of each other's houses without making a fuss. I don’t know if I could trust myself with her in my room after what happened the last time.
Maybe I need to get laid. Not by her. But by someone. And soon.
“Please tell me you brought your outfit in your bag,” Wren pleads the second I slip into her car in my dark jeans and faded tee. I throw my bag into the backseat before putting on my seatbelt.
“No, Wren, I’m going to wear this to the event,” I reply sarcastically, gesturing towards my outfit. “Obviously it’s in my bag.”
“Did you get something nice to wear?” she asks as she checks her mirrors while backing out of my drive.
“Define what you mean by nice…” I tease, leaning over to play with the radio until a station I don’t hate comes on. Listening to Wren’s Taylor Swift playlist while we work out has had its effects on me. Now, I can't do anything active without some1989orReputationaction. Her music cures the soul. It has to be magic or some shit.
“I don’t know. Something charming, smart, dazzling,” she lists, staring out at the traffic we quickly merged into. I watch her dark blue nails tap onto the steering while and I’m hypnotised for a second.
“Aren’t I all those things anyway?” She gives me an unimpressed glance. Maybe it’s too early for my bullshit. “Yes, I brought something nice.”
“Okay, good,” she says softly. She murmurs something under her breath as she taps her fingers impatiently. The car in front of us remains stationary when the light turns green and her face heats up as she pounds the steering wheel with her tiny fists without hitting the horn. “God! Can you drive your fucking car!?”
I’ve never seen her road rage before, and I don’t hate the way her cheeks flare up and her chest rises and falls. I can’t stop staring at the way she puffs air through her nose and rolls her eyes.
Is it bad that I like it even more when she does it to me? I decide not to say that and instead try and tread on something lighter.
She starts to angrily hum to Frank Ocean'sPink and Whiteand it's a little terrifying.
“You seem…tense,” I mention quietly, turning down the song. She turns to me for a split second before focusing on the road. She looks back at me for a beat longer as if she’s trying to see straight through my brain before returning back to the road.
“I haven’t slept properly in almost two weeks,” she grits out, her knuckles gripping the steering wheel.
“Why? What’s keeping you up?”
“Oh, nothing,” she says cheerfully. I can tell she’s about to go on a sarcastic tangent. Luckily for her, it’s my favourite thing ever. “Just, having a quarter life crisis over my career in figure skating. Oh, and my sister has been off the grid for almost two months and my mom is starting to project all of her frustrations onto me. The usual.”
“Wait, you have a sister? You’ve never mentioned her before,” I say, surprised at he causal revelation of her sister which I never knew about until just now.
“I’m sure I have,” she murmurs, giving me a sideways glance but I shake my head with a shrug. “Her name’s Austin. Just think of my mom but twenty-five and a ballet dancer.”
“Ah,” I nod. “You guys aren’t close?”
“We are. Sort of. She was like my mom's test run before I was born so if I thought I had Mommy Issues, Austin has it worse. She’s been in Russia for the last four years at this ballet program. We haven’t heard from her in a while and everyone’s a bit worried,” she explains.
“Are you worried about her? Is that why you’re stressed?”
She groans a little, shrugging. “I am but I’m not. Austin is tough. A lot tougher than me. She’s always been independent so I’m sure that whatever she’s going through she’ll get through it. It only stresses me out because when my mom doesn’t have two kids to fuss over and all the weight lands on me. That’s why she’s been so hard on me about getting the skating stuff sorted as soon as possible.”
My mind instantly drifts to Clara. How I’ve been pushing her away over something she was trying to protect me from. Maybe I should reach out to her. Carter would have told me to.She’s your sister, you big dummy,he would say. Each time we would fight as kids, that was always his comeback. It didn’t take me long to notice that he wanted me to have a good relationship with my sister because he never had one with his brother.
