The Perfect Storm 2

Chapter 133

Miles veiny hand grips the wheel tightly and before I know it, we're driving down the driveway that usually leads me to Miles's his, not away from it. 

The familiar black Lamborghini is comfortable as I feel myself slowly sinking into the leather chair. 

Miles's cologne travels into my nostrils, the sweet yet spicy smell fills me up with warmth. His hand travels from the wheel and to my thigh, giving me the warmth that's lingering under his palm. I look down at my feet, all I want to do is bring up his future with NYU but the only thing that my mouth wants to mention the kids that I'll never have. 

Miles presses the gas pedal as hard as he can, running his fingers through his hair before gripping the wheel again and getting onto the main road, speeding through every car on the road like he usually does.

AFTER WHAT FEELS LIKE a fifteen-minute silent drive, we finally step out to the same small restaurant we went to a long time ago, back when we just met. 

It somehow feels like it's been more months than I can count when in reality, it's barely been six months. My heels click against the wooden floor as we choose to sit at the same place we did last time: at the very last row of tables. 

I notice the same guy from before sitting on one of the stools near the small bar where a waitress serves him another beer. I watch as the older man turns around to give Miles and me a small smile.

"Yo, Barry," Miles says and Barry waves his beer in the air. Miles turns around, gives me a small smirk before kindly guiding me to sit down at one of the wooden tables. Almost everything is made out of wood, including the walls, chairs, and tables.

"Would you guys like to start with some drinks?" A waitress asks and Miles nods before looking at me.

"Yeah, um, maybe a lemonade?" I smile and she nods.

"We have strawberry, lemon, and peppermint." The waitress smiles.

"A lemon lemonade?" Miles tries to hide the smile at what he clearly thinks is ridiculous.

"Yeah, I guess so." She smiles.

"Cool." Miles looks up at her with a smirk and she giggles, still staring into his eyes even though Miles is looking into mine.

"I'll take the strawberry lemonade," I say and the waitress doesn't reply.

"Strawberry Lemonade," Miles says, sounding harsh as he stares her right in the eyes, letting the words come out of his minty breath in a harsh and very clear tone.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I—I'll get right on it." She says and turns around, grabbing both of our menus before walking away.

"Uh, excuse me?" Miles clears his throat. She turns around, her expression awkward. Miles raises his brows before extending his hand out slightly and opening up his palm, clearly waiting for the menus to be handed back to him.

"Oh, right, I'm so sorry." She says, quickly handing Miles the menus, her hand lingering close to his. He quickly grabs the menus, sliding his hand back to the table and away from hers. I give her a smile as Miles looks down at the menus, but she gives me a frown.

"I'll have the stupid lemon lemonade." Miles smirks and I giggle at his decision. The waitresses frown turns into a quick smile and she nods before turning around and walking back over to the bar. A few other couples area spread across the tables but yet, somehow it feels like Miles and I are the only ones here. 

He intertwines his fingers as she rests his hands on the table and looks me right into the eyes. Miles is still such a mystery to me. The only thing swirling around my mind are the two kids I'll never have, the aisle I'll never walk down, and the house in Santa Monica I've always wanted, but as I look at Miles's lips his words start to play over and over in my head, diminishing all of the worries away, 'let's worry about that later.' The words bring me back to the hot tub and now the hotel room. 

These are the same five words that now cause ease in my brain.

"You didn't tell me about NYU." My mouth talks for me before I can process how or what I want to say. He raises a brow and clenches his jaw before moving back into his seat. His hands are now off the table. Miles smirks, "Who told you?"

"Stephanie." I simply answer, my eyes darting down to the table.

"The scholarship isn't until next year, and I uh . . . I applied before I knew you." He says and for some reason, relief washes over me, as if his words are some kind of antidote.

"I'm not sure I want to go . . . I haven't been sure for a while—not after you." He simply says, his jaw is firmly clenched and I can tell he means every word.

"Okay." Is all I can say, my voice hoarse. Miles gives me a small smirk and I can't help but smile back at him. The waitress brings over our lemonades.

"Your lemon lemonade." She smiles before slowly placing the drink in front of him, trying to keep eye contact but with barely a smile, Miles looks away instantly.

"Strawberry." She says, handing down my drink in front of me and rushing off. 

I wipe with a brown napkin whatever pink has spilled on the table from her harsh placement that Miles hasn't noticed, before taking a small sip of a perfect blend of sweet and sour that is strawberry lemonade. Miles takes a big gulp of his before coughing into his forearm, his eyebrows rising in disgust.

"Fuck, this is some sour fucking shit." He coughs with a few chuckles in between, making me giggle.

"Why New York?" My mouth asks for me and I realize that I can't let go of the idea. The idea of Miles living there haunts me—it haunts my being.

"There's something about it that makes me feel like I belong there." He gives me a genuine smile, showing a small dimple that rare shows even with his bright smile, but when It does, I enjoy every second of it. I can't help but smile back at his genuine smile.

"The rain, the tall buildings, the amounts of people, honks of taxi cabs, all of it. And I don't need the city when it's sunny and perfect, I need it when it's grey and rainy, that's when I feel like I truly belong there." He says before adding, "What about Santa Monica?"

"I've always wanted to be there, to go by the pier and when I went on my birthday, I saw just how calm the ocean was. It wasn't too hot or too cold, it was perfect and the water, the sand, everything there breathes life into me." I explain, realizing how polar opposite we are. He needs darkness and I need the light, yet together, we work perfectly.