Page 38 of Fighting Fate

I'm a bit startled by her dismissive attitude toward dyslexia, as if it's a grave issue. She explains, "This student is simply struggling in a class and needs to catch up before semester ends."

Truly? A twinge of frustration stirs within me. I had expressly stated my desire to work with students with dyslexia, but now it appears I may be redirected. Given my already bustling agenda filled with classes, dance rehearsals, games, and offering complimentary dance classes, this potential shift threatens to tip my balance into chaos.

Just fantastic.

Before I can express my concerns, Mrs. Raker interjects, "You'll meet him soon. He's a senior at NorthRidge, and I think you'll get along well. It won't interfere with tutoring dyslexic students."

Relief floods through me, yet the wink and smirk Mrs. Raker throws my way sends ripples of confusion through my mind. Could she be insinuating there's more to discover with this guy? The thought feels like a stretch. As it stands, my love life is entangled with fictional beings and my one-sided crush on Miles, a journey that feels like it's going nowhere fast.

I manage a smile, polite but strained, as I mask my swirling confusion. Stepping back into the sanctuary of the library, with its towering bookshelves and students lost in their own worlds of studying. Turning a corner, a book titled The Art of Movement catches my eye. Authored by a renowned choreographer. Unable to resist, I scoop it up and claim a quiet nook by the window. Outside, the rain whispers against the glass, and a gentle breeze carries the promise of fall, setting the perfect stage for losing myself in the pages.

Engrossed in the book, time flies by. The techniques and philosophies within its pages resonate deeply with me. My concentration breaks when I hear a familiar voice.

"Looks like some things never change."

Catching sight of Miles, smirking in that effortless way of his, hat flipped back, and dressed in his laid-back combo of black sweatpants and a "Touchdown Against Breast Cancer" tee that hugs his frame a bit too well, I bite back a sigh. Our campus shrinks every time we bump into each other—fate's little nudge, perhaps. But between us? I secretly relish these accidental meet-ups. A glimpse of him, even just weekly, has become a highlight for me.

As our eyes lock, my heart starts its own erratic ballet of emotions. My cheeks warm as I observe him, oozing charm without even trying. It's not just me who's caught in his spell—other women also stop to appreciate, greet, or strike up chats with him.

I grumble silently, I'm right here! Find someone else to admire. I can't exactly shout it out; after all, there's no "Miles Chasen's girlfriend" label attached to me. I don't have exclusive rights to his attention.

When his gaze meets mine again, I force a neutral response, keeping my annoyance at bay. "What's up?" I ask, striving for a calm tone.

He chuckles, oblivious to my inner turmoil, and pulls up a chair next to me. Before sitting, he gives me a quick once-over, biting his lip slightly.

And I know why he's looking—it's the outfit. The white bodysuit is snug, paired with a blue skirt featuring a daringly high slit. It's bold and maybe a bit revealing, but it boosts my confidence.

I had doubted Mrs. Raker would hire me in this attire, but then, my childhood tutors advice echoed in my mind: "Milli, you can wear the finest clothes, but it's your confidence and personality that truly shine." That advice emboldened me to stop worrying about others' opinions on my style. People should appreciate me for who I am, not for my clothes, my family's fame, or anything else.

With our eyes still locked, Miles sports his trademark smug grin, a gleam in his teeth and a twinkle in his eyes that remind me of sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

This guy . . . Can't a girl catch a break?

Before either of us speaks, a cough interrupts us. Luke is standing nearby, his gaze sharp. Miles quickly retracts his hand from behind my chair, nervously rubbing his neck, before turning to Luke. "Hey, how's it going?"

He blinks. There's a flash of curiosity in his eyes that quickly disappears as he says, "Heading out from the library. Figured we'd do a bonfire at the house now that the rain's given up."

He's right on point. Since I settled here with my book, the rain has stopped, leaving behind a sun-kissed, cooler evening—perfect for a bonfire. Nostalgia hits me suddenly. Bonfires were our thing back in the day when Luke and Miles were just high school kids. Over time, they turned into something we'd do only during breaks or summers, when we all had a chance to get together again.

Miles throws a quick, probing glance my way, and I wonder if he's looking for my reaction or if he's thinking about something else entirely.

I arch an eyebrow just as Miles' chuckle resonates, a deep sound that vibrates through my very being. "Come on, Mills, lighten up. It's going to be fun. You need a night out," he urges, his voice laced with a persuasive tone.

He's not wrong. A night like this could be a perfect escape from the week's chaos, a chance to reset for what's coming. Closing the book, I stand up and head toward Luke, my bag swinging over my shoulder. Miles stands, too, falling into step beside me.

I reach out, looping my arm around his arm, feeling a familiar ease. "Alright, show us the way," I say, a smile in my voice.

Miles

"Pennington, step aside. You don't know the first thing about lighting a fire," Luke chides, playfully pushing her away and taking over the fire-poking duties.

Payson, hands on hips, looks ready to launch into a full-blown rebuttal. This back-and-forth has been a staple of our gatherings since we arrived over an hour ago.

As I lounge in my usual chair, surrounded by friends at one of our typical bonfire sessions, there's a comforting sense of home tonight. The weather is perfect, and the crowd is just right—our teammates, Milli, Brooke, and her boyfriend Josh.

My phone buzzes. I don't need to check to know it's my mom.

Mother Dear: Miles, did you see Dr. Reynolds yet? They told me you haven't been scheduled.

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