Chapter Fourteen
Julian
The door clicked shut behind us, sealing off the world.
I didn’t care that Miles was still in the room. Didn’t care if he stared or talked or breathed too loudly. My body gave out the second my suitcase hit the floor, and I flopped face-first onto the bed like a dead thing.
God.
I was so... drained.
My arms were lead and my chest was heavy. Even breathing took work.
I stared at the ceiling—blank, white, featureless. Like me. Or at least the version of me they all wanted. The beautiful, silent mannequin who smiled on command and didn’t flinch when Victor laid his disgusting hands where they didn’t belong.
My jaw throbbed from where he’d hit me. The phantom sting of his fingers still burned my cheek.
I closed my eyes for a moment, hoping sleep would take me, drag me down into something numb and dark. But it didn’t. My mind kept racing.
Victor’s voice.
His threats. His grip on my life.
I gulped, opening my eyes again.
I hated this.
I hated feeling this exposed. Out of my routines. My rituals. My control.
This wasn’t home. I couldn’t do yoga here. Couldn’t pace. Couldn’t make breakfast. Couldn’t hide behind the walls I’d spent years building.
And Miles...
Miles was here, somewhere in the room—quiet, but present. Like the sun behind the curtain. I could feel him. Warm and too bright.
I let out a slow breath through my nose.
“You’re too quiet,” I muttered, still staring at the ceiling. My voice was rough, low. “What, no endless chattering today? You sick or something?”
I heard him shift across the room. Probably sitting on the other bed. “Didn’t want to annoy you,” Miles said, voice light but honest. “You seemed... wiped.”
I snorted. “What gave it away? The dead stare or the fact I collapsed like a corpse the moment we walked in?”
A chuckle. God, he was always smiling, even when the world should’ve worn him down.
“Both, actually. You looked like you were about to kill someone today.”
I cracked one eye open and glanced at him. He sat cross-legged on his bed, shoes off, hair a mess from the long day. But his grin was still there.
“That’s just my face,” I muttered. “Scares half the crew. Keeps the other half away. Works for me.”
“Not me,” he said simply.
Of course not. The idiot puppy never took a hint.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So... what made you want to model, anyway?”
I tensed—just slightly—but enough. My fingers curled in the bedsheets. “Pays well.” I gave him the driest answer possible. “And I’m good at it.”
Miles didn’t let it drop. Not yet.
“But why this? You could’ve done anything, right?”
I turned my head, met his eyes. God, he really didn’t give up. Stubborn sunshine.
“Because I had no other options.” My voice was low. Flat. The truth without details.
He studied me, quiet for the first time in minutes. Like he was deciding if pushing further would shatter whatever thin thread I was holding onto. “Fair enough,” he finally said. “I get it. Sometimes dreams start out as escapes.”
I blinked, surprised.
“You?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He smiled. “Acting was my way out, too. Small town, big family. No space to breathe. This felt like... the only door that opened, you know?”
I did know. But I wouldn’t admit that. Not yet.
I sat up slowly, dragging a hand through my hair. My cheek still ached under the makeup. My chest felt tight again. “Your family still talk to you?”
He grinned wider. “Every day. They’re annoyingly supportive. You’d hate them.”
I huffed—maybe a laugh, maybe not.
“Probably.”
A silence stretched, comfortable for him, strained for me.
“You always this nosy, Bennett?” I said, glancing at him.
His smile didn’t falter. “Only when I care.”
That... made my chest tighten again. I looked away.
“Don’t,” I warned, voice quieter. “Don’t make this a thing. We’re working. That’s it.”
“I know.” He stood, heading to the bathroom with a soft chuckle. “But maybe working with you won’t suck as much as you want it to.”
I watched him disappear into the bathroom and let out a slow breath.
God help me.
The room was quiet once Miles left. He sat cross-legged on his bed again after exiting the bathroom, scrolling mindlessly through the TV. I stayed on mine, staring at the ceiling like it could offer me a way out.
“So... you got any siblings?” Miles asked, breaking the silence.
I shook my head. “Only child.”
He hummed. “Must’ve been lonely.”
I shrugged. “Got used to it.”
A pause. Then his voice brightened, gentle and warm like everything about him.
“Whenever my family took trips, my sisters and I would always order room service. Stay up too late watching our favorite movie. Tradition.”
I turned my head, watching him from the corner of my eye. A soft smile tugged at his mouth as if the memory still warmed him.
I surprised myself by giving him the smallest, briefest smile. Barely there. But real.
“You ever done that?” he asked, looking at me.
I shook my head again. “Never needed to.”
Miles grinned wider. “Then let’s change that.”
I blinked, sitting up slightly. “What?”
“Let’s order something. Watch a movie. Just... chill. Like normal people.” He wiggled his brows dramatically. “No photoshoots. No cameras. No grump.”
I hesitated. My stomach twisted—not from hunger but from guilt. Food meant control. And control was the only thing I had left. “I shouldn’t,” I muttered. “Victor—”
“Victor’s not here,” Miles cut in softly. His eyes on me, steady. “It’s just us.”
I glanced at the door. At the quiet. My chest tight.
“C’mon,” he said gently. “One night. One movie. I’ll even let you pick it.”
I let out a slow breath. The weight in my chest didn’t lift, but something in me... cracked.
“Fine,” I muttered. “But you’re paying.”
His grin lit the room. “Deal.”