Page 100 of Fighting Fate

My phone vibrates just as I notice our moms, huddled together, exchanging those knowing glances and whispers like they're plotting the next chapter of a daytime soap.

Pulling out my phone, another missed call and message catch my eye.

"Miles, we need to hear from you. Ignoring calls isn't helping, and avoiding treatment is not an option."

Dr. Reynolds had hinted at a treatment plan, but the reality of facing it head-on is another story. I'm not ready to confront that yet. My focus has been on the game, the class with Milli, and the MCAT prep. Plus, there's something about being with her that just lifts me up. Each glance, each smile, she sends my way feels like a jolt to the heart, a reminder of what I want to hold on to for as long as I can.

I lock my phone, trying to shake off the unease. The table buzzes with football talk, and Luke's absorbed in his phone. The moms are still in their world, now showing Milli something on Mrs. Sutton's phone—probably discussing gala dress options. Milli's polite nod doesn't mask her disinterest.

Leaning back, I take a casual sip of my beer, letting my mind wander. I imagine whisking Milli away from this mundane chatter, longing to be alone with her. She catches my gaze, her eyebrow raised, a hint of mischief in her smile. I can't help but grin back, the thoughts in my head growing hazier with each sip of beer.

She doesn't verbally rise to the bait but instead bites her lip, tongue darting out seductively over her lips. It's a private show just for me in the midst of this oblivious crowd.

I'm utterly hooked on her. Milli's energy is electric, irresistible—I've always been magnetized by it, and I'm certain I always will be. She winks and turns back to the conversation, leaving me with a grin of her own and a head full of thoughts.

She's playing a tantalizing game, and I'm all too willing to play along. And, later, when she stealthily slips into mine and Luke's place, the night unfolds with a passion that's hard to forget. That moment when her soft whisper, saying my name, echoes in the room; it imprints itself in my memory, a tender yet intense reminder of our connection.

An hour into the rehearsal, I observe Lily and Georgia in the dance studio, their mix of frustration and determination almost endearing. "Let's try again, girls," I say, injecting some cheer into the atmosphere.

My mentor, Jen, and Mr. Hanmann watch with keen interest from the edge of the room. They've been a constant presence since the preparation for the Dazzling Dance Duo competition began.

Ben is capturing every moment with his phone, a symbol of his unwavering support and love. Watching him, I'm reminded of my own dance journey, how my parents were present but seemingly more focused on Luke's aspirations than mine. It hurt, of course, but it also drove me to forge my own way, not for fame, but to deepen my passion for dance and share it through teaching.

I guide the girls through the routine again, striving to balance enjoyment with precision. "One more try, as if the judges are watching," I softly suggest, kneeling to their level. I explain that this run-through is for the competition video, sparking a light of understanding and renewed concentration in their eyes.

Their final performance earns enthusiastic applause, with Ben's cheers ringing the loudest. Witnessing their growth and expression in dance fills me with a profound sense of happiness.

Coaching these young dancers goes beyond choreography; it's about fostering confidence and finding joy in movement. Dance has always been my safe haven, a place to be my true self, and my goal is to extend that sanctuary to others.

Jen's hand on my shoulder brings me back to the present as the Hanmann sisters leave. "You did great, Milli," she says with genuine pride. Her words strike a chord, especially coming from her. It's a validation I've craved, different from the casual encouragement of friends and family.

Jen's hug is comforting. "Happy tears only in my studio," she jests, lightening the moment. Her comment makes me laugh through the emotion.

I gather my things, lingering a bit in the now-quiet studio. Opening my laptop, I'm greeted by a message from Ben, the video attachment ready to be uploaded. His words of gratitude bring a smile to my face, and I get to work, uploading the video for the judges to see.

This is more than just a dance competition. It's a step in my journey as a mentor, a future dance coach, a step toward realizing my dream of owning a dance studio. As I hit "Submit," I'm filled with a sense of purpose and anticipation for what lies ahead, not just for the Hanmann sisters, but for myself as well.

"God, that feels incredible." The words slip out in a moan as Miles' hands masterfully knead my calves. We're nestled together in the grand clawfoot tub situated in the bathroom he shares with Luke—a detail of their home I've always been fond of. The idea of a shared bath gave me pause at first, mindful of Luke's presence, but as fate would have it, he's out with someone else. And really, the allure of relaxing alongside Miles, coupled with the enticement of bubble baths and strawberry ice cream, proved irresistible.

His reply to my moan is teasing, laced with innuendo. "Keep making noises like that, and I'll have to share something even more incredible," he jests, his wink loaded with promise.

I join in the banter, positioning my foot against his solid chest, sensing his muscles flex beneath my touch. He puts on a show of being wounded when my toes playfully squeeze his chest, but the laughter in his eyes tells me we're both enjoying this.

Moving closer, the water rippling around us, I'm acutely aware of the growing intensity between us. Our interactions have always been a dance of desire and restraint, each encounter bringing us closer to a line we haven't yet crossed. Sitting astride him now, the physical manifestation of his hard cock pressing against me, I'm both exhilarated and apprehensive. Crossing this threshold will change everything, a fact we're both keenly aware of.

His hands grip my waist firmly, a perfect balance of desire and control. "Baby, you're driving me crazy," he whispers, his voice strained with a cocktail of emotions. His vulnerability, so raw and open, strikes a chord deep within me.

Whispering close to his ear, "Maybe that's exactly what I want."

His response is immediate, a blend of hunger and intensity in his eyes as he lifts me from the tub, guiding me to the edge with an urgency that sends a pool of wetness between my legs.

We stand there, soaked and breathless, the tension between us electric. Instead of guiding me to the bedroom, Miles gently pushes me against the tub, asking me to brace myself. As he kneels, the sight of him—so powerful, yet so devoted—lifts my leg to his shoulder.

His lips trace a path upward, each kiss planting a shiver of excitement through my veins. My skin blossoms with goosebumps, marking the thrilling impact he holds over me. My heartbeat accelerates, thundering against my ribcage, while my fingers weave into his hair, clutching softly yet eagerly.

"Better hold on, baby," he whispers with a knowing smirk, moments before his lips meet the most sensitive part of me. The touch of his tongue is both gentle and assertive, a perfect dance of sensation that nearly lifts me off the bath's edge.

But Miles is just getting started. His hands grip my hips, and he teases me with his tongue before dipping a finger inside and slowly bringing it out as lips seal over my clit. He brings me to the edge before pulling back.

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