He laughs. "You really are cute."
"Okay, fine. I'm cute. But you have nothing better to do than watch twelve hours of Star Wars films."
"Can't think of anything I'd rather do."
I don't even care that he calls me cute. I haven't been this excited in months. I'm practically bouncing.
Miles looks just as excited.
It feels good, being with him and doing little things. Doing nothing.
"If you only want to watch one or two movies, I get that. I don't want to impose," I say.
"No, I like you here." He pulls me into the bed. "I like your company."
"Is that what the kids are calling it?"
"I love fucking you. But I like talking to you too." He slides his hands under my ass and guides me onto my back. "I like you here. House doesn't feel empty." He pulls his t-shirt over his head. "The guys in the band, you may not have noticed, but they watch me for signs I'm gonna break again."
"When did you break the first time?"
He says nothing.
I run my hands through his hair. "Does it still hurt?"
"Not as much. It's been a year almost." He presses his lips to my neck. "I like talking to you, Meg, but you're going to need to put some clothes on if you want to keep talking." He drags his fingertips over my chest. "You want to talk or you want to do this?"
I answer by unbuttoning his jeans.
Chapter Fifteen
We watch every Star Wars film. Miles knows every line, and he delights in reciting them with me. Well, he delights in mocking me, too—in mocking my very obvious crush on Han Solo. What can I say? Maybe I do have a thing for scoundrels.
It's almost dawn when we go to bed, but this time Miles doesn't put me in the spare room. We sleep together on his bed, in his bedroom. It's not the biggest bed, but it feels so good to be pressed against him. His body fits perfectly with mine. I fall asleep almost instantly, and I wake up in his arms.
Miles stirs when I get out of bed. He drags me to the bathroom, and we take another shower together. It's as amazing as before. We kiss, touch, and help each other with soap and shampoo.
After, he makes me breakfast and coffee. It's like we're playing house, like we're playing pretend at being grownups in a grown-up relationship. I know I'm twenty-one, and he must not be more than a few years older, but I've never really felt like an adult. This, though, being in this house alone with him—it feels real.
Miles snickers when we leave for Kara's. "You've been wearing that outfit for almost three days."
"So?"
"Something tells me you don't normally wear low-cut tops and short skirts to hang out with your best friend. Not that I object."
He's right. I never dress up to see Kara. At best, I wear a t-shirt and jeans. I need clean clothes, especially clean underwear. There's no way I'm going commando to hang out with my best friend.
"So drop me at my place. I'll change."
He shakes his head. "No, I'll take you to a boutique I know."
"I'm not a doll."
"And you won't be on display to anyone but me." He leads me to the front door. "But I'll feel awful about ripping off your panties if I didn't buy them."
"No you won't."
He smirks. "Okay, I won't. But I'm still buying you something to wear today."