In A Perfect World

Chapter Seven

I woke up the next morning to the sound of somebody pounding at my door. I rolled over onto my side and opened my eyes far too quickly; the bright light coming streaming through my window blinded me like a motherfucker. God, what time is it? Ignoring the person at my door I picked up my phone to check the time.

10:45 in the morning. I looked over at the pile of bills on my bedside table that I'd spent the entire night paying and organizing and outwardly groaned. Fuck, I must have fallen asleep late.

Suddenly glad that I wasn't one of those weird people who slept without any pants on, I ambled towards the door, stretching my arms out as I did so. My bare feet made a padding sound against the timber flooring with every step I took. Before the person could slam their fucking fist against that goddamn door again I yanked it open so quickly that it nearly took the door off its hinges.

Never in a million years would I have expected Miles to be standing outside of my apartment.

"Hello, gorgeous," he grinned, making my heart twist at the sight of his dimples. In each hand was a paper cup of coffee with steam rising through the hole at the top. "Late night?"

"What are you doing here?" I asked groggily, crossing my arms against my chest and leaning against the frame of my doorway. Miles suddenly glanced down at my shirt and then forced his ocean-like eyes back up to my face instead. I looked down, confused, and then realized I wasn't wearing a bra underneath my cotton-thin pyjama shirt. Well, shit.

Sighing, I moved out of the doorway and back into my loft-like apartment - which was a bloody mess. It's funny how you never realize how unorganized you are until you have somebody in your home - especially a very gorgeous one of the male species.

Miles didn't really seem to care. Hell, he and his car permanently reeked of cigarettes so I suppose he couldn't really contest against bad habits. I watched him stroll around my apartment, gazing at the terrible paintings that came with the place but I kept because I hated blank walls. He was wearing a maroon V-neck shirt with a dog-collar necklace, with somebody's name on it that I couldn't read from where I was standing. His jeans were ripped at the knees, deliberately or not, I wasn't sure. But they suited him.

"Nice space you've got here," he commented, placing the cup on my coffee table and twisting his body to face me. "I like lofts. They seem arty to me."

I eyed off the coffee, debating whether to take it or not. "It's all right I guess," I shrugged, plonking my body on the sofa and tilting my neck back to see his face better. Miles looked away and took a long drink of his coffee. "I mean, rent's reasonable," I continued, leaning forward and picking up the drink. It was still hot. "Reasonable for an apartment in the middle of the city, anyway."

"It only took me twenty minutes to walk here from our place."

"Our?"

"The band's," Miles replied, throwing me a 'duh' look. "We live together."

I took a sip of the coffee and immediately wanted to spit it out; it was so bitter that it made me look sweet. I swallowed it down like a shot of vodka and placed it back on the table where I knew it would remain untouched. "Sorry," Miles smirked, fiddling with the chain around his necklace. "I wasn't sure what coffee you liked."

"I like my coffee to text me before they turn up at my door and wake me up," I rolled my eyes, feeling a yawn building at the bottom of my throat. "And also, how do you know I like coffee in the first place?"

Miles strolled over to the sofa and sat himself at the other end, that stupidly handsome grin of his super-glued to his face. "I stopped by the café you busk at," he explained, sounding very proud of himself. "One of the waitresses told me that you order a coffee and then perform there nearly every day. I couldn't help but wonder why you wouldn't venture off to other places."