Always You || Simon Minter (miniminter)

Chapter 22

We've been at the club for about an hour. Everyone but me is wasted—laughing, stumbling, dancing like no one's watching. I'm sitting in the booth, nursing a drink, watching them move and sway. The bass vibrates through the floor, the lights flash across the room, but I can't seem to drag myself onto the dance floor.

Then, I catch sight of Simon. Our eyes lock instantly. He's already looking at me, that same pull I can't resist. I force a small smile before tearing my gaze away—he's dancing with Emily.

He doesn't look happy. Not really. It twists something inside me that I can't quite name, but I feel powerless, watching him act as if controlled by this random girl. Who is she? Why is she here?

"Millie, come dance!" Freya yanks me to my feet, dragging me toward the floor. Soon, I'm in the middle of Jide, Tobi, and Ethan, flailing and laughing along to the music. My sober body moves differently, more deliberate, but I'm enjoying it. The three of us take turns trying to outdo each other in ridiculous moves—mostly just taking the piss.

"Here he comes," Tobi shouts, nodding behind me. I spin around to see Simon.

"Can I talk to you?" he asks, his voice low. I nod shyly, and we slip outside into the biting night air. Around the corner from the main entrance, away from the thumping music, I shiver in my heels.

"Millie... I'm so sorry," he mutters, shuffling on his feet, eyes avoiding mine.

"Simon... I'm just so confused and hurt," I admit, stepping closer to try to meet his gaze, but he doesn't look at me.

"Simon, look at me," I whisper, gently lifting his chin. His pupils are wide. Not from surprise, I realize with a sinking heart—he's on something. Cocaine, probably. And probably Emily's doing.

"What have you taken?" I spit out, anger and worry blending.

"W-what do you mean?" he stammers.

I turn, refusing to deal with it any longer, heading back toward the club. "Millie, wait!" His hand grabs mine, pulling me toward an alley beside the building, forcing us into privacy.

"What has happened to you, Simon..." I whisper, unable to meet his eyes.

"Millie... I fucked up," he admits, and my chest tightens.

"Damn right you fucked up! Why didn't you text me? Call me? I thought things were going well," I snap, tears threatening, but I refuse to let them fall. He gently lifts my chin, tilting my face so he can see me, closing his eyes briefly in guilt.

"I don't want to be with Emily. I'm not with her. She's just... here, and she won't leave me alone."

We stand in silence, the city noise surrounding us. I finally mumble, "Tell her to fuck off." Simon laughs lightly, and I let a weak smile slip.

"I want to be with you," he says, voice cracking. "I... I don't know what happened when you were away, but I regret it. Please..."

"Simon... you need to deal with Emily first," I say gently, frowning. "No girl would like to be ditched like that. No matter what I want, it's not fair to her."

"I will," he promises, voice soft. "Promise you'll still want me..."

"Of course, Simon." I stand on my tiptoes, pressing a small kiss to his lips. His eyes widen, then soften, a grin spreading across his face.

"C'mon, everyone will be wondering where we were." He guides me back into the club, hands on my lower back, weaving through the throngs of people.

At the booth, Emily tries to engage Freya and Sarah but fails miserably. I catch Jide and Tobi staring at me—they're grinning, waiting for a debrief. "What happened with Simon?" Jide shouts over the music.

"Nothing," I shrug, smiling, feeling a rush of relief. Simon has taken care of Emily for the moment, and I decide to reclaim my night—dancing with Freya and Sarah, laughter replacing the tension, for now.

—

"This is why you don't drink!" I shout at the three hungover boys—Josh, Vik, and Jide—sitting at the kitchen table clutching mugs of tea. Rolls and bacon are piled in front of them; they dive in ravenously.

"Good morning, ladies," Simon says, entering the kitchen with a bright smile. His energy is infectious. "What's got you so happy?"

"Nothing, just... feeling great this morning," I answer, plating the breakfast. He glances at me, eyes softening, and I smile back.

"Millie... could I talk to you once you're done eating? I'll be in my room." My heart skips, and I almost drop the plate.

"Uh... yeah." I finish setting everything down, walking a careful line between nonchalance and anticipation.

After ten minutes, breakfast concludes, and I finally gather the courage to head upstairs. Standing outside Simon's door, I take a deep breath before knocking.

"Come in?"

Inside, Simon sits at the edge of his bed, waiting. I close the door, approach him, and stand in front of him.

"You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah..." His hand finds mine gently, a tentative smile on his face. "Millie... I'm so sorry. I made a mistake. I shouldn't have spoken to Emily."

I place a hand softly on his cheek, thumb brushing a comforting circle. "Simon... it's okay."

We linger in silence, the air thick with unspoken words. I want to tell him everything—how much I like him, how much I want to be his—but the words won't come.

"Millie..." he whispers, moving closer, wrapping an arm around my waist. Our faces inch closer. "Can we give it another try?"

I don't answer with words. I lean in, and our lips meet. His hands find my waist, and he pulls me onto his lap. I tangle my fingers in his hair, the kiss deepening until we both pull back, breathless, laughing.

"You do know Emily was a cow," I murmur.

"Oh, I know," he chuckles.

A knock interrupts us. Jide and Tobi peer in, confused but grinning.

"Nothing, dad," I quip, rolling my eyes, and slip out to my room, Tobi and Jide following.

"Want to join a Sidemen Sunday video?" Tobi asks.

"Sure, I need to get ready first. What's the challenge?"

"The silent challenge," Jide smiles.

I throw on leggings, a black Champion sweatshirt, messy bun, and we head upstairs to join the boys. The game begins, laughter erupts, and I finally feel like part of the chaos—and, for the first time in weeks, truly at home.

Then my phone rings. Caller ID flashing someone from my past... trouble or not, I answer.

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