Page 32 of Falling

“Can’t you do both?” Kennedy asks, walking into the kitchen as she rubs sleep out of her eyes. If she didn’t have classes to go to, I’m convinced she would spend all of her time in bed. She sits beside Scarlett, stealing a piece of her toast. “He might just trip and fall right between your legs.”

“Do you both have to be on my case right now?” I groan.

“It’s pretty much our job,” Kennedy says.

“Yeah, who else would encourage you to make good decisions?” Scarlett adds, grinning.

“Baddecisions,” I correct, “You encourage me to make verybaddecisions.” I point at the picture on the fridge, and they both shake their heads. “Barcelona.”

“Yes, yes, we know. But that wasn’t our fault. That guy we followed into the bar sounded very legit andwe”—Kennedy gestures toward Scarlett—“didn’t get any sick, so maybe you just got a bad egg.”

I rub at my temples. “Can you hear yourself right now?”

They both laugh, and the rapid knock on the door cuts it short. “Is that your loverboy?”

“Yes, so be nice,” I say, turning away from them to walk toward the door. They blow raspberries at me, and I shake my head at their immaturity.

Scarlett snickers. “It’s you that needs to be nice to him. I’ve never seen a guy more smitten, and you’ve never looked more… annoyed? Turned on? It’s hard to tell.”

“Annoyed,” I say to her before I open the door.

Miles is sporting gray shorts and a worn white tee, his NU duffel bag slung across his shoulder. He looks good. Annoyingly so. It makes sense why girls are doing everything they can to get him to notice them and why he’s such a hot commodity. It’s frustrating that he’s justthatgood at being the charming funny guy without even trying. He steps into the apartment and raises a hand in greeting to the girls, who are trying to stifle their laughs.

“Hey, princess,” he says, his voice extra sweet and silky. He dips his head to my tiny sports bra and shorts. “You look hot.”

“You don’t have to pretend to like me. They already know we’re pretending,” I say, walking away from him to grab my bag from the couch.

“I know.” I turn to find him smirking, and it takes everything that I am not to roll my eyes. The girls flash me a glance, but I ignore it, grabbing water from the fridge and stuffing it into my bag.

I look up at Miles, and he’s already got his eyes on me. “You ready to go?”

He nods, and we exchange goodbyes with my friends and head out the door. When we get to the parking lot, he walks straight past my car and continues walking down toward the main road. I call after him, “Where are you going?”

He turns, looking around him before taking the steps to close the distance he put between us. “To the gym. Where areyougoing? It’s, like, a five-minute walk.”

I tut, shaking my head. “Oh, you sweet, innocent child. Get in.” I open my car door, and he goes to the other side, sliding into the passenger seat. He looks so out of place in my car. His larger-than-life shoulders barely fit in the seat, and he has to adjust his chair multiple times to give his legs more room.

We barely make it out of the drive before he starts quizzing me.

“Where are we going? There’s not another gym for atleasta few miles. Are you going to murder me? I know you said you would’ve done it already, but maybe you’re just in it for the long haul.” I glance over at him, and his eyes are wide and panicked. “Is this a kidnapping? Are you going to kidnap me?”

I laugh. “If I wanted to kidnap you, why would I ask you to come tomyapartment?”

“I don’t know! It’s still a possibility,” he argues. “If you are going to kill me, can we make out at least once before I die? I want to die a happy man, Wren.”

“Can you chill the fuck out? I said we’re going to dorealtraining,” I say, focusing back on the road. His face is getting more and more comical to look at the wider his eyes get. “If there’s one perk to my dad owning hotels, it’s that I get access to all the private, quiet gyms.”

“That’s insane,” he mutters.

I shrug. “I’m just being practical. Why would we waste our time in a gym where the equipment is mediocre at best when we could go to a luxury one that has just been built?”

He doesn’t ask me any more questions while we drive, and thank fuck for that. It’s like I’ve got to convince our college that I’m dating a real adult and not a toddler. I don’t know what demon possessed me to let Miles have the AUX because he plays the most obnoxious music I’ve heard in my life. I almost crashed multiple times while he screeched every lyric to theHamiltonsongNon-Stop.

His singing and talking is nonstop, that’s for sure.

“Remind me never to carpool with you again,” I say when we walk into the hotel.

“I’ve got the voice of an angel, Wren,” he whispers when we stand at the reception desk. His breath tickles my neck, but I ignore it, pushing away from him.

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