Page 83 of Fighting Fate

I shake my head, an attempt to mask the rush of fluster sweeping over me. Acknowledging it, even silently, feels too vulnerable. So, I pivot away, letting the expanse of water before us take my full attention, my arms remaining defiantly crossed. "Nope, that's not me," I assert, the words aimed more to convince myself than him.

His chuckle cuts right through all my pretending, and damn, it's exactly what I've been missing since I showed up. I sneak a peek over my shoulder, catching Miles dropping his fishing gear and heading my way. I steel myself, ready for whatever he's gonna throw at me, but he catches me off guard, coming up right behind me. His hands find my elbows, and even with the cool air and my sleeves between us, his touch sets off a firestorm inside me.

Get it together, Milli. It's just Miles, for heaven's sake.

But this isn't like those quick, fiery moments we've had before. His touch? It's slow, thoughtful, kinda tender in a way that throws me. As he runs his hands down my arms, I pull them in tighter, aware of how turned on I am. He lets out another one of those chuckles, his breath dancing across my skin, making me shiver all over. Then, he lays his arms on mine, trying to gently open them up. I put up a bit of a fight, though. I'm not quite ready to drop my guard just yet.

He lets out another laugh. "Stubborn as ever, Milli Girl," he whispers, dropping that nickname that never fails to make my heart jump. He tugs me back against him, and I find myself dissolving into his hold, all my resistance fading away despite myself.

Why does he have to be such a puzzle? One minute, he's warm and close. The next, he's distant, leaving me all twisted up inside. I decide to stop overthinking it for once and just let myself rest against him, my head finding the familiar nook of his shoulder. He responds with a gentle kiss on my temple.

What does this mean? Is it just a reflex from our past, or something more?

I'm overanalyzing again, aren't I?

"You're doing it again," he teases, and I snap out of my reverie.

I bite my inner cheek, trying to tamp down the rising tide of emotions. It's more than just this moment; it's a lifetime of feelings, all bubbling up now.

I begin to distance myself, poised to face the tension that's been brewing between us. But as I attempt to step back, he eases his hold. My words are on the brink of escaping when suddenly, my foot tangles with his and my fishing pole. A jolt of panic shoots through me as I instinctively grab onto his shoulders.

The cold shock of the lake snaps me to reality, and I latch onto Miles, his arms instinctively encircling me. His laughter echoes around us, a light-hearted response to the chaos.

Even with the chill seeping into my bones, laughter bubbles up from me, too. The situation, us floundering in the water, hits a note of ridiculousness. I try to muster a glare at him, aiming for irritation.

"Not. Funny," I manage, emphasizing each word with a prod to his chest. But he's quick, capturing my finger and pulling me in until we're flush against each other, soaked and shivering, our breaths mingling.

He gives a nonchalant shrug. "Kinda is, Mills."

I fight the urge to grin, biting down on my lip. This scenario—so quintessentially us—me leading us both into an unintended swim. Any regrets? Absolutely none.

"What happened to your dancer's balance?" he teases, grinning. "What's on your mind, Mills?" he murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble, rich with intimacy. He's always had a knack for reading me like an open book.

My cheeks blaze with warmth, a clear indicator of the inner conflict I'm facing. Caught in the crossfire between the intense memories of what we've shared and the electric tension of now, I'm at a loss for words.

As my gaze drifts away from us, settling on the scene beyond the water, we remain motionless, enveloped by a heavy silence in the chill of the lake. Drenched and shivering, I decide to mirror Miles' earlier demeanor. With a nonchalant shrug, I offer him a dose of his own medicine, mimicking the detachment he had displayed.

He's still grinning a mischievous grin, and despite everything, I feel this urge to close the gap between us. I imagine kissing him, a kiss so fiery and deep it would leave him breathless, yearning for more, his body aching for my touch.

Then Miles snaps me out of it, giving my chin a light pinch, dragging me back to the here and now. Our gazes lock, and in that quiet moment, heavy with all the things we aren't saying, I can feel the undeniable proof of his cock pressing against me. The need to touch him, to wrap my hand around it, is damn near overpowering. Sure, we've danced this close before, felt that electric buzz of wanting the same thing, but right now? The hunger to dive deeper, to really explore that craving, is hitting me harder than ever.

A surge of warmth floods me, and I find myself ensnared by the depth of his gaze. Without fully realizing it, my hand begins to drift toward him, as if pulled by an invisible string. He intercepts it, his features melting into a gentler expression.

There's a hint of pity in his eyes, and it throws me off.

"Maybe we should get out?" he suggests, his voice gentle yet firm.

He leads us toward the dock stairs, and I'm left there, confused and frustrated. Why is he holding back? It's not like he doesn't want it; that much is clear.

Then my inner voice chimes in. Milli, just because his body's reacting, it doesn't mean his heart is. I guess it's true that physical attraction can be separate from emotional connection.

I roll my eyes at myself, trying to rationalize it all. I mean, why would someone like Miles, with all his options, choose me? A dyslexic, hopelessly romantic, nerdy dancer? High school didn't exactly do wonders for my self-esteem.

I mutter a half-hearted, "Mmhm," not trusting myself to say more without breaking down.

Get a grip, Milli. Crushes are just that—crushes. They end, eventually.

So, this is it, I guess. The day I finally get over him. I came here to figure out what's up with Miles, but instead, I'm leaving with even more confusion.

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