Page 99 of Fighting Fate

The last week has been a whirlwind of emotions surrounding Milli. Do I confess how I feel, or let things flow naturally? For now, I return her smile with a knowing wink.

Luke releases Milli, focusing on Payson. I keep Milli close, her presence calming amidst the impending lecture I know that's coming from my dad.

But right now, all I crave is the simplicity of ending this day. To retreat back home, wash away the game's sweat and strain in a hot shower, then dive into my study materials for the looming final exams and MCAT prep. And perhaps, just perhaps, bring Milli back with me.

With Luke out for the night, the possibilities unfold in my mind—the two of us under the shower's cascade, sharing her favorite strawberry ice cream, maybe drawing her a bath that I know she's been longing for, and then just unwinding together, lost in each other's arms.

When my gaze drifts back to Milli, it's like she's reading every thought. Her eyes, deep and knowing, meet mine, and the way she bites her lip sends a wave of excitement through me.

But reality checks in. The awkward interruption from someone's cough breaks our moment. Reluctantly, I let go of Milli, both of us feeling the loss. I just want to grab her, kiss her damn mouth, show everyone, including our families, that she's mine.

But is she really mine?

Right now, certainty eludes me, but frankly, it doesn't matter. What I do know, with every fiber of my being, is that I'm deeply in love with her. And that's enough for me to want to continue this journey we're on; wherever it may lead.

Mrs. Sutton's invitation to Glasshouse pulls me back. Her knowing glance between me and Milli says she's onto us. I agree to join, telling them I need to shower first, and the longing in Milli's eyes tells me she's right there with me, in memory and desire.

Just then, my phone buzzes with a text from her.

Mills

Need help in the shower?

Her message ignites a spark within me; this girl.

An hour into the evening at Glasshouse, and it's clear things won't be any simpler than the post-game family chat.

"So, you're tutoring Milli?" Mrs. Sutton asks, her eyes flicking between my mom and Milli, sharing a knowing smile. Great, so this is how the evening unfolds.

Glasshouse is buzzing tonight, a mix of post-game celebration and the usual crowd. I catch

Milli's eye; she looks as surprised as Luke does by Mrs. Sutton's question. We hadn't planned on announcing our tutoring sessions, but secrets don't last long in our families, especially with my mom's knack for sharing news.

Luke's face is a storm of emotions—annoyance at being out of the loop and the protective brotherly concern. He's always been wary of me and Milli together.

The cat's out of the bag now, so I play it cool. "Yeah, she's been helping me with a class." The table chuckles, but Luke's confusion is evident. "Since the beginning of the semester," I add, cutting him off before he can probe further.

He's visibly irked, questioning Milli directly. "Are you okay with this?" She shrinks back a bit, her shyness on full display.

I can't stand how he's treating her—like she's some damsel in distress. "Why wouldn't she be okay with it, Luke?" I interject.

His shrug appears nonchalant, yet his voice carries a definitive edge. Just as I'm gearing up to respond, a soft touch on my calf stops me. Milli. Beneath the table, her foot, snug in a Converse, strokes my leg, easing away the irritation. It soothes the storm brewing within me.

Milli straightens up, confidently addressing Luke. "Yes, I'm fine tutoring Miles." I return her support with a covert foot rub, acknowledging her strength in standing up for herself.

Mills and I have this under control.

But do you really, Miles?

Milli's smile is grateful, but before Luke can reply, my dad chimes in. "A solid C in that class is fine, Miles. Remember the real dream."

I nod, appeasing him. "I know, Dad. But I still want to finish strong academically."

The conversation drifts, but Milli breaks the silence, praising my recent academic success. I'm grateful, even as her foot leaves my calf. She finds a new way to comfort me, positioning her feet around mine, a gesture reminiscent of our more intimate moments.

Lifting my head, Milli winks at me. This type of support is both surprising and incredibly welcome. I'm used to relying on myself, especially during tough times at the hospital. But Milli's presence, her subtle gestures of solidarity, they're changing the game for me. Depending on someone else is new, unnerving, yet incredibly reassuring.

As I try to reconcile these feelings, I realize Milli isn't just standing up for me. She's showing me a different kind of strength—the kind that comes from letting someone else in.

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