Page 110 of Falling

“You’ve had, like, two shots, Wren. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you’re a lightweight.”

“I’m not!” I shout, pushing him in the chest.

“I put some water in your bag. Drink some, please. I can’t have my girl passing out on me,” Miles says, moving me with him as we walk around the room. If I could form real thoughts, I would thank him for being so responsible. For taking care of me. But all my thoughts latch on to those two words.My girl.“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

“Does such a place even exist?” I ask.

“There’s a small room over there.” Miles points down a corridor with brighter lights than the dark ones in the main bar. I stand still, not willing to go down the sketchy hallway.

“I think that’s where all the orgies and murders happen,” I say, shuddering.

“There’s only one way to find out, Wrenny.” He smiles. “I got you.”

But as we start walking, someone shouts his name. He looks back at me, thinking it was me who called him. I shake my head and shrug.

“Miles!?” the shrill voice from behind us shouts again. We both turn this time. A dark-haired woman walks toward us in a bejeweled silver dress, and I instantly recognize her.

My stomach tightens.

Miles has never been closed off about his ex-girlfriend, Emily Fraser. Mostly because she comes up a lot when he talks about Carter. She’s a shortish woman with dark-brown hair that cuts off at her shoulders. She studies marine biology at Drayton Hills, so she’s smartandgorgeous. She's the opposite of me, and I can't figure out if that's a good thing or not. I take a little step back, and Miles’s hand wraps around my waist, pulling me into his side.

“Oh my god, itisyou!” she shrieks, and before either of us can register, she pulls Miles into a hug, his hand slipping off me.

“It’s good to see you, Emily,” Miles says when she pulls away from him. His hand returns to me again. “This is Wren. My girlfriend.”

“So I heard,” Emily says as she gives me a once-over. Her fake smile doesn’t even reach her eyes. She turns back to Miles, ignoring my presence. “Are you staying in town for a bit?”

“Yeah, only until Monday. Our flight’s in the evening,” Miles explains.

“Aw, that’s tomorrow. If I had known, we could have hung out,” she says.

She comes closer to him, her hand resting on his chest.Okay. So we’re doing this. Miles doesn’t look at her. In fact, he looks straight over her head. It doesn’t take a genius to know that she’s drunk, and he’s too nice to tell her to fuck off.

“I miss you. I miss your body,” she murmurs, and that’s where I draw the line. I grab her hand and push it off him, pushing her back gently.

“Hi, I’m sorry, but I’m right fucking here. If you wanted to flirt with my boyfriend, you could haveat leastwaited until I slipped away,” I say, coming in her face.

The darkness of the bar and the LED lights have given me a lot more confidence than I should have. I’m lucky I just tower over her in my stilettos or else I’d look ridiculous.

He might not be my real boyfriend, but he’s still mine in every way that counts. Anyone else looking at him like they want him is driving me crazy, and I hate myself for it.

“Miles, can you tell your girlfriend to chill?” Emily scoffs. She blinks up at Miles, but he steps back away from her, pulling me into him again.

“No, she’s right,” Miles says, looking at me and then back to her. “You don’t have the right to say shit like that anymore.”

“I can say what I want," she retorts, spluttering.

Miles groans, lowering his voice so only we can hear. “And Emily, you're lucky I'm talking to you nicely because the last thing you deserve is nice. I don't want to shout at you and cause a scene because I'm a decent human. So please, step back so me and my girlfriend can leave.”

She blinks at us, and I want to laugh so badly.

“Happy fucking New Year,” I say to Emily before grabbing the cuffs of Miles’s shirt and getting us the hell out of there. I know it was a petty thing to say, but it made my blood boil. Exes like that are not good for anybody. The kind of ones who want you back when you’ve moved on. That shit sucks.

We wait outside of the bar for a cab, not saying anything as we sitdown on the sidewalk. There is something comforting about being around Miles in this setting, watching cars drive past and drunken strangers howl behind us. He's sitting next to me, sighing loudly as he throws his head back, probably as frustrated as I am.

“Thank you for doing that,” I say quietly. I don't know how it came out, but it's New Year's Eve, and I'm feeling emotional.

“Doing what?” he asks, turning his head to me.

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