Page 53 of Falling

MILES

CREAM CHEESE

I hadno clue what to wear to this thing, and all Wren said was to “wear something nice.” If she had given me more instructions, I would have had more to work with. I can’t show up to a fancy event with my fake girlfriend’s dad looking like an orphan, so I had to go to my last resort.

Evan got me a link to a good tailor who wasn’t too expensive, and I dug into my savings to buy myself a suit and bow tie. It’s nothing flashy, but it should be enough for the occasion and, considering the price, maybe even my wedding.

“Please tell me you brought your outfit in your bag,” Wren pleads the second I slip into her car in my dark jeans and faded tee. I throw my bag into the backseat.

“No, Wren, I’m going to wear this to the event,” I reply sarcastically, gesturing toward my outfit.

“Knowing you, you probably would,” she mutters.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

She grins, looking at my outfit and then back to my face. “Have you looked in the mirror? You give off rough around the edges, I-don’t-wear-suits-unless-it’s-for-a-wedding-or-a-funeral vibes.”

“Gee, I didn’t know you paid that much attention to me,” I say, running my hand through my hair. She gives me a blank look. “Obviously it’s in my bag.”

“Good. Did you get something nice to wear?” she asks as she checks her mirrors while backing out of my driveway.

“Define what you mean by nice…” I tease, leaning over to play with the radio until something good comes on.

Listening to Wren’s Taylor Swift playlist while we work out has had its effects on me. Now, I can't do anything active without some1989orReputationaction. Her music cures the soul. It has to be magic or some shit.

“I don’t know. Something charming, smart, dazzling,” she lists, staring out at the traffic we quickly merged into. I watch her dark-blue nails tap onto the steering wheel as she sighs.

“Aren’t I all those things anyway?” She gives me an unimpressed look. Maybe it’s too early for my bullshit. “Yes, I brought something nice.”

“Okay, good,” she says softly. She murmurs something under her breath as she taps her fingers impatiently. The car in front of us stays still when the light turns green, and her face heats up as she pounds the steering wheel with her tiny fists, avoiding the horn. “God! Can you drive your fucking car!?”

“You seem tense,” I whisper, turning down the music. She turns to me for a split second before focusing on the road.

“I haven’t slept properly in almost two weeks,” she bites out, her knuckles turning white as she grips the steering wheel.

“Why? What’s keeping you up?”

“Oh, nothing,” she says cheerfully. I can tell she’s about to go on a sarcastic tangent. Luckily for her, it’s my favorite thing. “Just having a quarter-life crisis over my career in figure skating. Oh, and my sister has been off the grid for almost two months, and my mom is starting to project all of her frustrations onto me, so I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

I blow out a breath. “Jesus.”

“Yeah, it’s starting to get to me.”

“Makes sense why you made me eat shit at the gym yesterday.”

She scoffs. “That was nothing. I could work you harder if I wanted to.”

“Please, be my guest,” I say, crossing my arms against my chest. “Are you and your sister close?”

“We are. Sort of. She was like my mom's test run before I was born, so if I thought I had mommy issues, Austin has it worse. She’s been in Russia for the last four years at a ballet program. We haven’t heard from her in a while, and everyone’s a bit worried.”

“Are you worried about her? Is that why you’re stressed?”

She groans, shrugging. “I am, but I’m not. Austin is tough. A lot tougher than me. She’s always been independent, and she takes care of herself first, so I’m sure that whatever she’s going through, she’ll get through it. It only stresses me out because when my mom doesn’t have two kids to fuss over, all the weight lands on me. That’s why she’s been so hard on me about getting the skating stuff sorted as soon as possible. I just wish she would at least communicate with us more so we don’t have to worry.”

My mind instantly drifts to Clara. How I’ve been pushing her away over something she was trying to protect me from. How she might be feeling like Wren in her situation. Maybe I should reach out to her. As much as these last few months have sucked, she’s been the best big sister

“She’ll come around. Family is hard. Believe me, I know,” I say as reassuringly as I can.

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