Page 46 of Fighting Fate

Do you want to see more?

Go big or go home, right?

The wait for his reply seems endless, with my heart pounding. Is it our usual banter, our deeper moments, or the margaritas speaking? Whatever it is, I'm all in, embracing the now.

Miles

Milli, did Payson grab your phone?

I burst out laughing, a real, deep laugh, and then...oh no.

I glance down. A tiny yellow splash on the shower floor. Did I just...? Isn't that a post-childbirth thing, laughing too hard and...?

I press a hand over my mouth, trying to contain my laughter. Who even does that?

I shrug it off. It'll just wash away, right?

Back to the messages. A picture? A text?

Miles probably has tons of options, and his experience? Probably vast.

Me? One awkward time with Zachary Patel, Chess Club president. Not exactly a high bar.

Taking a deep breath, I embrace this new college Milli, stepping out of my comfort zone. So what if it's with Miles Chasen? Friends help friends, right?

I stand up quickly, turning off the shower, grabbing a towel. I dry off, leaving my breasts slightly damp. If I'm sending a picture, they need to look their best.

Friends, Milli. Just friends.

But right now, I'm exploring. And that's okay.

Discarding my towel, I stand before the mirror, taking in my reflection. The scar just above my hip bone is a memento from rough football games with Miles and Luke. My fingers trace over it, a reminder of carefree days. I weigh the heft of my B-cup breasts in my hands, their bounce modest but enticing, the pink nipples yearning for a touch.

My gaze drifts to the drawer, the one whispering a tempting shortcut to release. But I resist, choosing instead my coconut-scented bedtime lotion. Originally meant for a soothing pre-sleep ritual, tonight it serves a different purpose.

I look at my body, reminding myself, "Friends."

Yet, I can't deny my own appearance. My dancer's physique, hard-earned and now a source of pride, catches my eye. My hands glide over my belly, a brief caress over my clit, a teasing promise of what could be. A moment of hesitation: the vibrator, a solitary but effective relief, or continue this tantalizing exchange with Miles?

Choosing the latter, I revel in the thought of leaving him wanting more.

Comfort zone: 0 / New Milli: 1

Decision made, I reach for the razor and shaving cream. It's been a while, but I'm ready to channel my inner Nicki Minaj. Leaning over the sink, I carefully shave, the razor whispering across my skin. I imagine Miles waiting, wondering. The thrill of keeping him in suspense is sort of exhilarating.

After tidying up, I flash a grin at my reflection. Okay, I look...good.

Milli

You're getting the best view, I hope you know.

Miles

Baby Sutton, I already knew that.

Empowered, I grab my cream white lace robe and approach the full-length mirror. I slip it on, initially to cover up, but then impulsively let the straps fall. The robe opens, revealing one leg entirely, the other partially hidden, a glimpse of my bikini line teasing the eye. My cleavage peeks out, nipples reacting to the cool breeze.

I know it's undoubtedly sexy, revealing more than I'm usually comfortable with, but not so much as to scare him away.

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