“Who said they’re not real? Because if your telling yourself that then you’re fucking stupid,” Scarlett says and I hate how right she is. “Don’t tell him if you don't want to but don’t you dare invalidate your own feelings. If you don’t know what those are yet, that’s cool. But that doesn’t mean you have to pretend you’re not feeling them.”
I nod, taking in her advice. “When did you get so wise?”
“I always have been, you’re just too stupid to realise it,” she says with a shrug. “Anyway. We’ve got to go and binge-watch Love Island. We’ll see you in a few days.”
I say my goodbyes and end the call, trying my best to listen to what Scarlett says. I hate how she’s able to see right through me and understand exactly what it is that I need. I don’t need to tell him right now but I do need to figure out my feelings before they start to turn into something bigger. The glass door to the balcony opens and I flinch, turning around to a freshly showered, topless Miles who is leaning against the door frame.
“Hey. You okay?” he asks, crossing his arms against his chest. “You seem a bit jumpy so I’m guessing there’s going to be no scary movie tonight.”
I laugh. “No, because then I’d have to put up with your screeching.”
“That was one time,” he says. It was more than once but I don’t say that. He scratches his stomach, my mouth practically salivating. “Are you hungry?”
“What?” I say, snapping out of my trance.
“I asked if you were hungry,” he says, coming closer to me. He places his hand on my forehead. “You sure you’re okay? Are you sick?”
I shake my head, letting his hand fall. “I’m perfect, Doc. Just tired. All that singing and surfing has really got to me.”
My face splits into a huge yawn and so does his. “Me too. I’ll set up the TV in the room and we can have an early night.”
He walks back into the room and I’m left with no idea what to do.
CHAPTER 31
WREN
Idon’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 be 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’ hand on my back doesn’t make me scream. It makes me want to melt into him. We don’t have to pretend here so is that why it feels so real?
The last week has been heaven. I know I should be training and preparing myself for comp season but I’m sure I can spare a week. I deserve a week. We’ve spent the past few days, eating, talking, travelling and doing more talking. I learnt a lot about him and myself being here than I have in the last four months of knowing him.
We have 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 to 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 standing at a bar, 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 with being strict on drinking,” I shout back to him. A crooked grin splits across his face.
“Really?That’syour 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 gently in the chest.
“I put some water in your bag. Drink some, please. Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” Miles asks, 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. He searches around for a way out.
“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. He turns around and looks at me, puzzled.
“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.”
