7. Chapter 7 #3
“Yeah, we kind of mapped the entire thing out.
Harris and I waited for Em to complete a foundation degree in art, then applied with work experience as well as the correct qualifications.
They're my best friends and we're a team.” Feeling like I can go on and on about the subject, I finish the rest of the swirl.
“What about you? What brings you here? How old are you?”
Instead of gawking at my blatant word vomit, he leans forward and presses his palms together between his legs.
“I'm from here actually. My mum–shes a single parent and I didn't want to be far from my family.
My aunts live close, so I've practically been raised by wild women.” The image of him being bossed around by women who probably are a lot shorter, with ashy waves like his own makes me smile.
“I'm twenty two. I needed a couple of years before I knew what I wanted to do.”
“Becoming an author?” I ask, taking another sip of coffee and humming as the pumpkin spice touches my tongue.
He nods, his eyes sparkling so bright it mirrors an ocean. “It's all I've ever wanted. I knew from a young age I always wanted to write gay vampire smut.”
My laugh is so wild that the table next to us jumps out of their skin.
I can't reign it in and the louder I get till I'm practically choking, the brighter Miles smiles.
Pink tints his freckled nose and he shrugs, unable to contain his happiness though.
“Ok that's a lie. I'm not restricted to just vampires, all fictional creatures are good.”
Slapping at my chest, I raise my hand in an apology to the now glowering table of women and scoot my chair closer to him until our legs are pressed together from hip to knee.
“Sorry, I didn't realise I was sitting with Dracula's number one fetish fan.”
He faux gasps. “It is not a fetish Cassie, being his number one is a lifestyle.”
I playfully push his shoulder, sliding my arm along the back of his chair. Remembering what we'd spoken about the first time we'd met in the cafe, I click my finger and dig my phone out of my jacket.
“Dunimarle would be the perfect place to set a book like that. In the autumn time they throw an all hallows festival pretty much every weekend. In winter, it's permanently covered in fog and freaks the fuck out of the locals.” He hangs off my every word, nodding.
Unlocking my phone, I ignore my teammates group chat where Rowley is probably still defending his cheesecake's honour for bake off night, and the comments flooding my new video posted to my masked account.
Someone under the account @kittycumboy asked me to collar him and I decided maybe it was for the best if I stopped looking at them.
A post dump and run approach. Opening my photos, I scroll quickly until I get to January and find the snaps I took when I visited the castle village with Dad.
“Take a look.” I slide my phone over to him and pick up the cookie, snapping it in half to demolish my side in two bites.
Fuck I love how sweet and spiced everything is.
Miles swipes through the photos in awe, pointing out details he likes and shyly asks if I can send them to him.
This man is a marvel; confidentially announcing his love for paranormal smut but blushes asking me for a simple text message.
Instead of teasing, I find his contact with the little ghost face and hit send.
How seasonal, a little ghostie.
“So, want to talk about the bi-awakening thing or are we dusting past that part?” He says around a mouthful of cookie.
Groaning, I run my hand through my mess of damp curls, “It’s not an awakening, I don't think.”
He frowns, so at war with how happy he usually is. “What do you mean?” There's something in his expression that has me almost worried for a moment, but he can't possibly know about my masked–whatever. Ugh. Not my anything.
“Let's just say it's not a surprise. No big revelation.”
“No way. That is not your big coming out to me story. I need details.” Clearing his fingers of crumbs, he turns to me which presses his shoulder snug into the crook of my armpit.
“Ok, fine but I reserve the right to say I did warn you.
It's weird,” taking a deep breath, I spill my truth before chickening out.
“My mum's a sex therapist. She specialises mainly in helping others with their sexuality. Hetrosexual, homosexual, bi, ace, a-sexual, pan, demi–she really helps everyone. My parents have never out rightly asked, but they’ve always seemed surprised when I’d tell them I was with a girl.
Actually, even when I was younger Mum would be skeptical.
I don't know if it's being raised so openly about that kinda stuff, but I struggle to form…connections.” I sigh, pulling at the hair at my nape.
“It's stupid. It's like it takes my body a little longer to get interested than my brain.”
Miles gives me a soft smile, but it's with understanding not pity, thank Jesus. “I hope you don't mind me asking, clarifying really. You're into women and guys?”
“I've never been with a guy, but Mum says I used to fawn over a boy in my class, Brody Ramsay.
One day I just stopped. I don't remember why, but she always brings it up like it should be significant to me. I feel like it's why she looks at my relationships with, I don't know, doubt? I don't look at anyone sexually, normally, but I appreciate that both men and women are nice looking.” I can admit that. Already wanting the ground to open up and swallow me whole, I end my ramblings before I freak him out more. My mum is amazing, the best in the world, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit her line of work leaked into some aspects of my life. The birds and bees talk came with encouragement to explore all sexual experiences, all genders, to speak openly about what I want with partners; which for a teenager was weird as hell to hear from my own parents. She emphasized not to label myself, like she knew something I didn’t.
What I don't add is that she's not the only person who gives me a hesitant look whenever I introduce my girlfriends.
Pushing his empty coffee cup with his little finger, I’m moments from accepting I’ve scared him off when Miles meets my gaze with what looks like curiosity in his eyes, but he’s worrying his lip.