14. Chapter 14
Iglare down at my phone, entranced against my will at the video on social media that I’ve now watched over twenty times.
It just keeps repeating on a loop, until my brow is twitching from how harshly it's pressing down the middle of my face.
I have to physically massage it back into place, before I give myself a migraine and can't drive.
I'm obviously on Yourghostboys account, because I'm a fucking addict and can't stay away.
Watching his new video–which he tagged me in, with the caption, When Boo is mad at you for being a bad ghost. In the video he's on his knees, looking up at the camera and his shoulders slump.
The mask is the same plastic ghostface, but it looks sad, the black eyeholes pleading like a scolded puppy.
The comments? Hundreds of people asking if we're boyfriends, what he did to upset me, crazy comments telling me in detail how to punish him and then there are more demanding videos of us together.
I'm not sure if I'm even mad anymore, because I'm sure at some point he would have convinced me to do just that. Film with him.
Whilst I received the best blowjob of my life he filmed me, discreetly obviously because you can't see who I am in the video he posted, but I think it's because he outwitted me.
Yeah, I think I'm fucked up. I'm annoyed because he got the upper hand and my competitive ass is throwing a tantrum. Very mature…
@Yourghostboy: Baby, are you still sulking? You're driving me crazy.
Look.
My cocks weeping without you.
He then proceeded to send me photos of his long length standing to attention, precum dripping from the tip.
Out of principle I didn't touch my own dick.
I completely ignored the ache and signals it shot to my brain all night, so now I'm sitting in my car outside of Miles’s house, semi-hard and unable to get the thing to go down.
I'm wound so tight, thinking over this new video, but also the conversation I had with Miles last weekend.
The entire thing has left my mind in pieces if I'm honest, but nothing had changed and we'd made out more in the week.
We'd sprawled out on his bed, unable to keep our hands to ourselves and pretended to pay attention to The Shining. Due to it officially being October–spooky month as he calls it–he’ll only watch thrillers, Halloween related films or wholesome Disney moves like Hocus Pocus.
It's adorable really and I'm fully on the autumn acid train with him. We’d gone out on a date last night too, back to my friend Jemmy's bar because she was hosting a couple of bands. It'd been great, openly being pressed up against him in the packed room. Miles had planned the whole thing like he’d said and it was perfect. We’d seen Grace again who seemed livid with the both of us, and it really seemed to piss him off.
With her, it felt like everything I did was in hopes she'd like me back.
But with him it all felt effortless. Natural. Cosmically written. Meant to be.
So taking things slow and keeping it open, didn't feel right at all.
He wanted me to sew my queer oats, if that even was a thing you did when you figured out your sexuality.
I still didn't know if I had, but I knew going forward, a man was probably going to be in my future.
Flashes of a beaming Miley in the cafe and the masked stranger pinning me to the tree overwhelm me.
Christ. Mum was going to have a field day if I asked her for a session…
My thumb is hovering over our private chat, but then my passenger side door opens and I throw my phone into the cupholder as Miles slides in.
He’s beautiful. Honestly he's taken my breath away from the moment we collided outside the coffee house.
His blonde waves are swept back and he's wearing a black bomber jacket, over a faded grey hoodie which I know has a printed spaceship scene zapping up cows.
It's ridiculous and I love it, especially when he told me the hoodie reminded him of me.
Usually he's in skinnies, but today he's wearing loose black jeans with rips, and they're rolled up to show his converse.
The entire look is cool as fuck, but my favourite part is how the dark clothes make the turquoise in his eyes glow.
He definitely knows I'm checking him out as he smirks, throwing his duffle bag into the back and quickly leaning over in the process to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Mm, you look good.” He rumbles from somewhere in his chest, and I tug his hoodie collar to steal a kiss on the lips before he sits back.
Inspired by the occasion I bought a burnt orange and teal checked wool shirt jacket, wearing it similar to him, over a grey hoodie. I've got black cargo trousers and Adidas trainers, and I can admit we look fire together. “Me? Nah, you're the one that looks good.”
Chuckling, he eyes me up and down, biting on his bottom lip. “Nope, you look edible.”
Well, there goes my dick. Again. Cursed to be hard.
Pushing the thought of biting into his lip myself, I start my car and offer him the wire that will connect his phone. “Want to be DJ?”
He eagerly nods, clicking in his seatbelt first before taking the wire from me. “I'll get the directions up to the cabins too, we're only just over an hour away.”
“Perfect. There's some snacks by your feet in that bag too.” I know the general direction out of the city, so I look around at the empty street before pulling out.
“There's something in there for you too.” I shoot him a quick glance and see he's discarded his phone on his knee, to pick up the carrier bag and look inside.
He's quiet for a long moment as he stares in, then my eyes snap again from the road to him as he makes a grumbly noise in his throat.
“Y-you are…” He pulls out the chocolate and healthier options, but only to take out the cute bat plushie. He laughs, shaking his head and his tone is the perfect level of husky. “You are ridiculously cute. This is spoiling me.”
Unashamed I reach out and squeeze his hand, bringing it to my mouth and kissing his knuckle.
“I like spoiling you. In fact, it gives me all the good endorphins. If it makes you feel uncomfortable though, tell me a fancy word term to call it instead.” I love this game we have, where Miles reels off different meanings for the same phrase or when he ‘fancies up’ words as I like to call it.
Huming, he lets our joint hands rest over the gear stick as I manoeuvre into third. “Let's see, there is pamper, indulge, overindulge,” he raises his brow at me and I playfully squeeze his hand, licking at my lips.
“I very much like pampering you, Miley.”
He fans himself, teasing me more. “Oh baby, aren't I just the luckiest kept wife.”
I laugh, starting to slow as the traffic starts and shift gears. We crawl towards the roundabout. “Straight over.”
He looks down to his phone and finally sets the destination; my car responds as the screen shows the map.
“Has Harris and Emery already set off?”
“Yeah they set off early this morning, Harris wanted to take some photos in the Moors and he promised to take Em for breakfast.”
Miles makes an interesting but aloof noise.
“I think Em's creativity rubbed off on him, he got into photography as a hobby. He's taken some great landscape pictures of our hometown.”
“Is that the only thing rubbing off?”
I nearly choked on my own spit, “W-what?” I start to drive again, taking the first turn, picking up speed to match the steady traffic we're in.
Miles turns in his seat, “So you're telling me neither of them have ever, you know?”
I sigh. “Nah. They're just really close.”
I'm watching the road, but I know he's looking at me exactly how everyone else does about this topic. “Cassie, I see the way Em looks at him. Harris is so attentive with him.”
“Honestly, they're just best friends. Em has dated shit head guys before, and Harris has had a few girlfriends, but nothing has ever worked out. Either way, I think they're just close because we were brought up like family.”
“Do either of them act that way with you?” I think over how they both cuddle, spend time together and Harris tends to hover over whatever Em is doing like a fly, but before I can say anything Miles already continues. “They don't. The three of you are close, but the two of them; they're close.”
I continue to shake my head. “Harris is straight, he's said before he's not into guys.”
“Didn't you think that at one point?” He's got me there, but I don't know how else to explain how my best friends have more of a co-dependent relationship than anything sexual.
“Look, I'm sorry for saying anything. Sometimes I can be nosey and my brain doesn't have that stop button everyone else does.”
I can't help but laugh, not at him of course, it's just too cute how having no filter is such an endearing quality that is so Miley. “Don't ever say sorry, put your foot in your mouth all you want around me.”
He gently pokes me in the rib and I laugh more, returning both my hands to the wheel. “You say that now, but wait till you’re begging me to stop talking.”
I pump my brows, “I can make you stop without begging.” Now Miles is choking and I decide to end his misery early. “C’mon car DJ, my ears are getting used to silence. Also, I got cold coffee in the bag.”
His eyes light up like it's Christmas as he digs back into the carrier and places both cans in the cupholder. Grabbing his phone, he presses a few things before music starts to filter out of my car.
I hear the hiss and bubble, before realising what song he's selected. “Is this the monster mash?”
He nods proudly and no amount of biting my lip can stop the massive smile from taking over my face. “Yep, it's my spooky season playlist! I added some songs for you too, but mostly it's either movie songs or the twilight soundtrack.”
“Ok, I am fully on board and committed to spooky season with you.”