Page 52 of Falling

I laugh. “I had to go to class, Dad. I'm not busy now. What's up?”

“Your Miles is still coming to my event, right?” he asks.

My Miles.

I don’t know why my heart stutters at the way he says that. Miles isn’t mine in any way, but sometimes it feels like he is. Something shifted the other day at the rink, and knowing that we've got each other’s backs in a purely platonic and friendly way is helping me put that barrier up between us. When I get looks around campus or comments on my post, I feel a weird sense of pride that I get to call Miles mine in front of the world.

“Yeah, he’s coming,” I say.

“Great! I’ve sorted out the room, so I hope he can make it. If not, it's totally fine. I understand how you kids are these days, but I’d love to meet him,” he says. I shake my head, and I wish he could see me rolling my eyes right now. “I’ve got you a luxury suite, so you don't have to worry about sleeping in different beds. There’ll be one big enough for you to share.”

“Yeah, Dad. About that. We don't need to share a bed because?—”

“Wren,” he presses. “I want you to know that I trust you. And I know that you and your mom butt heads, but I don't want that for us. If you and your boyfriend want to cuddle, who am I to stop you? As long as you’re being safe, that’s all that matters.”

“Dad, seriously, you didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” I say. “Two beds are fine.”

“You deserve this freedom, Wrenny.”

“But, Dad—” I try again, but he cuts me off.

“Wren. It's settled.”

“Mom would never do this,” I murmur.

“Good thing I'm not your mom. Isn't it, kiddo?” he adds before cutting the call on me.

“What did Daddy Hacks want?” Scarlett asks, beaming up at me.

“Stop calling him that, it’s gross.” I shudder, and they both laugh. It’s even stupider that they use Hackerly as his last name even though it’s my mom’s. My dad’s surname is tragic, and I like to pretend that it doesn’t exist. “He was just double-checking that Miles is coming with me to that event.”

Scarlett’s eyes go wide. “He is?”

“Yeah.” They exchange a look, and I sigh. “Don’t be weird about it.”

“We’re not being weird,” Kennedy says, “I mean, the two of you are going to be in a hotel for a night. The possibilities are endless.”

“Yeah, I say buy a cute lingerie set and flash him before you go to bed,” Scarlett suggests.

I bark out a laugh. “I’m not doing that.”

“You shouldsodo that,” Ken adds. “He’d lose his fucking mind.”

“I don’t know about you, Ken, but if—and I meanif—I were ever to sleep with him, I’d want his mind intact.”

She shrugs. “I wouldn’t. I like my men a little tortured and miserable.”

Scarlett’s grin turns evil. “I like mine a little pathetic and a lot rich.”

We all burst into a fit of giggles. “What the fuck is wrong with us?” I ask, trying to catch my breath.

“I don’t know. You started it,” Kennedy says, swiping a tear from her eye.

The next thing I know, we’re all involved in a very intense case of whodunnit, shouting “j’accuse!” at any given moment and rolling on the floor in laughter.

I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather laugh at stupid shit with.

18

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