"You've got me?" he mumbles and my heart tears.
"I've got you."
We don’t talk much as I help him to feel better. After his shower, Miles gets ready sluggishly and I order him some room service. He takes a few more painkillers and once he’s eaten, he starts to look better. We don’t talk about what happened. Why he went somewhere to drink or why he thought he saw Carter. I don’t push him to tell me, so he doesn’t bring it up. I ran away from the problem and so did he. In some ways, we’re both to blame.
His humour starts to return on the flight, along with his sobriety. He makes continuous plane jokes which I can’t help but laugh at. Even while I’m trying to watch The Lion King, he somehow managed to make terrible puns out of every character that comes onto the screen. The only thing missing, is the way he would make flirty jokes or try and touch me in some way or another. It doesn’t feel real that it was less than twenty-four hours ago that we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
When we get back to Salt Lake, the winter air hits us as we run to find an Uber to take us back to our houses. The second my body warms up to the temperature in the Uber, we’re already outside Miles’ house and I’m struck by another brush of cold air. Miles takes my luggage out of the car, along with his and we walk up to his door.
I almost forgot it was New Year's Day until I take in all the decorations in the house. Gold and silver banners hang from the ceilings and beer cans and Solo cups litter the floor. I take notice of the makeshift photo wall that I saw in Kennedy and Scarlett’s pictures from last night.
They were not happy with me missing New Year’s with them, but I convinced them to go to Xavier’s party and from the way Kennedy was cuddling up to Harry Butler I can tell they had a good night.
“Finally,” Xavier exclaims when he sees me and Miles. “Dude, it’s been hell without you.”
“Can’t talk. Head hurts,” Miles mumbles, acting worse than he is. He sulks and brings his drama queen ass up the stairs. I laugh and Xavier pulls me into a side hug.
“What’s wrong with him?” he asks, looking at me with a funny look.
“He’s hungover. Kind of,” I reply with a shrug. He laughs and walks in the other direction. I run up the stairs after Miles. He’s shuffling around in his bathroom when I walk into his room.
“You’re such a drama queen, you know that right?” I shout to him as I fall onto my back on his ridiculously comfortable bed. I’ve missed this so much.
“I’m not. My headdoeshurt,” he whines, walking back out of his room in nothing other than grey joggers. He sits beside me on the bed, his legs crossed next to my head. I gulp, trying not look at his toned stomach. Miles ignores the dismissive look I’m trying to give him as he leans over me. “Are you going to stay here tonight?”
His lips are inches away from mine. I lean up on my elbows and press a quick kiss to his lips and he smiles. I pull away, not ready to go any further but his lips catch mine again in a passionate struggle. It feels so natural to be this close to him after the week we’ve just had. My mind instantly flashes to last night and the hundreds of other places his lips were.
“I think we both know that’s not a smart idea,” I breathe when I pull away again. “I don’t think my body could take itandI miss my girls.”
“That’s true,” he laughs. He moves from over me and rests his back against the windowsill next to his bed. I push myself up next to him. “I’m sorry, Wren. About earlier. I was freaking out and the last place I should have gone to was a bar. Especially after we’ve spent so much time trying to avoid that. Thank you for taking care of me.”
“It’s okay. It’s my fault too. I shouldn’t have just left,” I admit. I turn my head to him, but his heavy-lidded eyes are already on me. “I meant what I said, Miles. I am scared. I know you said you’re going to be there but what if one day you’re not? I can’t depend on someone for them to let me down.”
My own rambling voice catches me off guard. It’s the first time I’ve said that out loud. To him. Not everyone can understand that overwhelming fear that constantly wells inside me when I’m around him and I’m close to letting go. He pulls my hand into his lap and encloses his hands around mine.
“No. That isn’t going to happen. Even if this is for the fake relationship or our real relationship, I’m going to be there. I’m all in. For real,” Miles says, turning over my hand in his. He traces the lines in my palm with a long finger.
“I’ve got qualifiers coming up. Then the competition season begins, and you’ve got the hockey team counting on you. If we do this and something happens, we’re both going to go down. What did you call us? Falling stars?That’swhat’s going to happen,” I ramble, my voice wavering. “Aren’t you worried about that?”
“Oh, I am,” he replies cheerfully. “But I know that this is what I want. The good, the bad and the ugly. It'll be worth it.”
“What if you change your mind?”
“I’m not going to.”
“But what if you do?”
“I'm. Not. Going. To," he snaps, looking at me with fierce eyes.
He brushes a strand of hair out of my face. I nod but it’s still a hard pill to swallow. It can be easy to say you’re not going to stop feeling this way, but it happens. I’ve seen it happen right in front of me. It can dissipate in an instant.
“Why don’t we take it light and breezy? If it makes you feel any better, we can still keep the contract in effect but with some adjustments. If this gets too much we’ll tell each other, okay?” Miles suggests. I nod. He holds out his pinkie to me. “Promise?”
I link my pinkie to his. “Promise." I try and let the idea settle for a second, wanting to believe him so badly.
"I know you're scared Wren and I know you have priorities. I would never ask you to change them for me but I promise you, I'm here. Me and you."
There it is again. Those two words.
