Wouldn't put it past her.
So, the picture? Dress color?
Hold on, you have no choice but to tell me. I am your date, after all.
We clearly need to coordinate.
The mention of him as "my date" stirs a flutter in my heart, yet I strive to moderate my enthusiasm. Despite the joy I find in our moments together, the unresolved mystery of our future direction lingers.
Milli, you're already in love, my inner voice chides. But I push that thought away. Yes, we've crossed physical boundaries, but the emotional stakes are higher and more complicated. I'm enjoying the here and now, not ready to confront the possibility of unreciprocated feelings.
"Who's been occupying your thoughts so much lately?" Payson asks, looking at me with curiosity.
I briefly look up from my phone, pausing for a moment. Closing my messages, I straighten up in the chair, mirroring Payson's evasive nail inspection with a casual shrug.
"Milli, seriously?" she half-laughs, her irritation barely masked. "I want details."
Rising to meet her challenge, I confront her directly. Brooke, meanwhile, watches us with an amused yet exasperated expression. It's clear she thinks we're both skirting around the truth for no reason. Payson could drop it, but my own curiosity is piqued. I wonder who she's been secretly seeing, as it seems I'm not the only one navigating clandestine meetings.
Technically, it's no secret I'm tutoring Miles, but the full extent of our relationship remains our own.
Payson, visibly wrestling with herself, finally relents. "I might have a date," she concedes before quickly retreating to the dressing room, leaving us with a mystery.
Brooke and I exchange a look and a chuckle at her minimal disclosure.
"Now it's your turn," Payson calls out from her changing cubicle.
Browsing through the selection, my fingers brush against a pastel pink dress. It embodies elegance, featuring a sweetheart neckline that whispers sophistication, echoing the vision I shared with Mrs. Chasen. Fashion usually isn't my battleground, yet the prospect of seizing Miles' complete attention at the gala is irresistibly alluring. The thought of him, impeccably dressed in a suit, and undressing him later, has my thighs clenching.
"Milli, we're waiting." Payson's voice cuts through my daydreams.
I need to deflect. I grab the dress and head to the fitting rooms, maintaining my facade. "Just busy with tutoring on campus," I reply, slipping into the dressing room. "Mrs. Raker's got me booked solid. Between studying, classes, and dance, tutoring's pretty much all I have time for."
It's not a complete lie.
Inside the fitting room, the dress envelops me like a second skin, accentuating every curve.
Gazing in the mirror, I'm surprised at how stunning I look. This dress isn't just a choice; it is a statement. Biting my lip, I envision Miles' reaction, his eyes gleaming with unmistakable desire. The thought alone sets off a wave of excitement within me.
I quickly snap a photo, capturing just the dress and my bare feet.
Milli
What do you think of the color?
Waiting for his response, a flutter of nerves unsettles me. Just as I'm debating whether to change out of the dress, Payson's exasperated voice pierces the air. "What are you doing here?"
I gently nudge the fitting room door open. Peering out, my eyes land on Miles, who's casually chatting with Payson. He looks effortlessly handsome, as always, in simple jeans and a white t-shirt, topped with a shacket that highlights his body.
I push the door wider, intrigued by Payson's tone. It's not like her to snap at Miles. And there's Luke, casually draping his arm around her, though she seems less than pleased.
Their sudden closeness puzzles me. Have they always been this way, and I just never noticed?
My thoughts are interrupted by Miles' voice, asking, "Where's Milli?"
I quickly try to close the door, not wanting to eavesdrop. But then Luke echoes, "Yeah, where's Milli?"
Cam, ever the instigator, teases, "Miles, why are you so curious about Milli's whereabouts?"