Chapter 10 #2
That should’ve been enough.
But then he looks me dead in the eyes and says it. “Cocktease.”
The word hits like a slap. I flinch, my eyes wide as I watch his smug smile appear after saying that.
And before I can even react, Miles punches him.
The crack of fist on cheekbone cuts through the music and the chatter like a gunshot.
The guy staggers but recovers fast and throws a punch of his own, but he isn’t steady on his feet, so he misses Miles. Chairs clatter. A bottle topples. People gasp, scrambling back. Miles tackles him onto the floor.
“Miles!” Mya’s heels click frantically against the floor as she rushes toward them. “Stop! Stop it!”
But Miles doesn’t stop.
Fists flying. The guy tries to fight back, but he’s sloppy, drunk, no match for the way Miles moves.
It’s brutal, fast, and loud.
And I just stand there.
Frozen.
Heart in my throat.
Greg storms from behind the bar. “That’s it!” His eyes are wild as he shoves through the crowd.
He pulls Miles off the blond guy. “That’s enough, Miles!”
Greg then grabs the other guy by his shirt, lifts him with terrifying ease, and snarls, “You so much as breath near her again, and I’ll put your teeth through the goddamn curb.”
Then he hauls him, bleeding and cursing, through the front door and tosses him out into the night like a ragdoll.
The silence afterward is suffocating.
People staring, whispering in the crowd, and I feel eyes on me.
“You okay, Viv?” Greg asks, holding my arms.
I nod, speechless from what’s just happened.
But Miles just stands there, blood on his lip, breathing heavy, fists still curled like he’s not done. Mya is saying something beside him, panicked and out of breath, but he’s not listening.
He’s looking at me.
I can’t handle it. Any of it.
I turn and push through the swinging door into the back hallway. My chest is too tight, my vision blurred.
I press my palms to the wall and try to breathe.
Then, footsteps. Fast, heavy. Controlled.
“Vivian,” he shouts. “Wait please.”
“Miles,” I breathe as he rounds the corner. “Why did you—”
“He touched you.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to throw fists like—like some unhinged—”
“He called you a cocktease.” His face serious and dark. “He insulted you.” His breathing is heavy.
I flinch. The word stings all over again. “That doesn’t mean you get to lose your shit!”
“He had his hands on you, Viv,” he bites out. “You think I’m gonna stand there and let that happen?”
I shake my head, emotions crashing down all at once. “You don’t get to be protective, Miles. You don’t get to act like that, again—like I’m yours to protect, like some broken fucking toy.” I put my hands on my hips. “Especially when you’re on a date with her.”
He looks confused, then steps closer. “Mya?”
“Don’t,” I cut in. “Look, I don’t understand anything I’m feeling. You walk in with her and then go all protective hero on me.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he says firmly.
I fold my arms, looking away from him.
“She’s my agent, Viv. That’s it.”
I pause, caught off guard.
“She flew down to help me with the competition coming up. She’s a close friend, but it’s never been like that between us.”
I swallow. “Well”—I rub my forehead—“I still hate how I feel. I hate that I got a little jealous. That it matters. It’s so fucking wrong,” I murmur.
“Why is it wrong? he asks, voice rough.
I meet his eyes, and for a second all the noise fades.
“Viv,” he says again, quieter this time. Like he’s handing me an escape route.
I don’t take it.
“Because of Trevor, okay!” My voice cracks halfway through, and I don’t bother trying to reel it back in. “It’s wrong and it’s messy and I feel like a fucking shitty person for being jealous. Or confused. Or just…feeling even a little attracted to you!”
The words land in the quiet, sharp and clumsy.
His jaw ticks. His eyes stay locked on mine, unreadable. My chest rises and falls too fast, too hard.
He takes a step closer. Then another.
And when his hand lifts to cup the side of my face, it’s slow, tentative even, but sure.
His palm is warm, calloused, grounding. His thumb grazes just beneath my cheekbone, and I swear I can fall apart right here.
I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes, he towers over me, all six foot two of muscle and intensity. I barely reach his chest, and the closeness of him makes the space between us feel even smaller.
“You’re not a bad person, Vivian.” His voice is steady now, low and unwavering, like a vow he’s ready to keep. “Do you hear me?”
The words sink into me, his tone firm and sure, and I can feel them echo in my chest. I blink, fighting the sting in my eyes, the lump in my throat growing heavier as I struggle to swallow it down.
“Miles…” I whisper, the sound barely escaping my lips, caught somewhere between relief and the fear I’ve been carrying around for far too long.
He takes a step closer, his gaze unwavering, and there’s an intensity in his eyes that makes me ache, makes my heart twist.
“No,” he says, his voice still gentle but insistent. “I mean it. If you keep thinking you’re a bad person for feeling again, you’re just going to keep hurting yourself.”
His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering there for a beat too long, before flicking back up to my eyes. His face is so close now, I can feel the warmth of his breath fan across my cheek. I don’t move. I can’t.
“Just tell me to stop,” he says, voice hoarse and rough like gravel. “And I will.”
My heart’s sprinting, a panicked, hopeful rhythm banging against my ribs like it’s trying to make the choice for me.
“I—”
We both freeze at the sound of Greg’s voice echoing down the hall.
“Vivian? Miles? You in here?”
I step back like I’ve been jolted. Miles’s hand drops and I immediately miss the warmth of it on my skin.
I swipe under my eyes and try to collect myself, but it’s useless. My chest is still rising and falling too fast, my thoughts a tangled mess.
“We’re here,” I call out, voice thin as I start walking.
I don’t look back.
And I don’t have to.
I can feel him still standing there in the doorway, but I carry on.
I walk back into the bar, the hum of conversation low but steady again, like the place is trying to pretend a fight didn’t just break out ten minutes ago.
People are back to their drinks. Music plays low. A few heads turn when I step out, but no one says anything.
Greg catches sight of me from behind the bar and immediately makes his way over.
“Hey—you, okay?” he asks gently, eyes searching my face.
I nod too quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
A lie, and not a convincing one.
He studies me for a second, like he’s debating whether to call me out or not. But then he sighs and nudges my shoulder with his. “You know you can talk to me whenever, Viv.”
“I know.” I give him a small smile. “Thanks, Greg.”
And then there she is—Mya.
“Hey, you’re Miles’s friend, right?” she asks with a bright smile.
Up close, she’s even more beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes people stare. Her features are sharp but in a model type of way, the type you see on magazines.
I force a polite smile. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. I’m Vivian.”
“Mya,” she says, holding out a hand. “His agent. Nice to meet you.” She lowers her voice slightly. “Never seen him react like that before.”
“You’re telling me he doesn’t usually get into fights?” I try to keep my tone light, but there’s a bitter edge I can’t fully swallow.
She laughs softly, shaking her head. “No. I mean, I’ve seen him pissed before, sure. But this?” She pauses. “There was no holding him back tonight. I’ve never seen him that furious. It was…personal.”
My heart gives a stupid little kick in my chest.
Before I can think of a response, I hear the back door creak open.
Miles steps out, eyes scanning the room once before settling straight ahead. His expression is unreadable, jaw locked tight, hands clenched at his sides.
He walks past us, doesn’t say a word, doesn’t look left or right, just heads for the exit like something inside him is still burning.
I watch him go.
No one’s ever done that for me—not even Trevor.
“I better go after him,” Mya says, already turning toward the door. “It was nice meeting you, Vivian. Hopefully next time it’ll be under more pleasant circumstances.”
“Yeah,” I manage with a nod. “You too.”
And then she’s gone, heels clicking across the floor, her silhouette disappearing into the night like a scene closing.
I exhale and drop my forehead into my hands, fingers pressing into my temples as I try to will the ache behind my eyes away.
Greg is silent beside me, drying a pint glass with practiced ease.
“She’s right, by the way,” he says after a beat, his voice low but steady. “About Miles.”
I lift my head slightly, glancing at him.
“Last time I saw him lose it like that was when we were seventeen,” he continues, not looking at me.
“Our sister was in a similar situation. Her ex-boyfriend had her cornered in a parking lot, calling her all sorts of insults. We heard her crying, I went over to get her away from him but Miles…he saw red that night. Just like he did tonight.”
My stomach twists.
I press my lips together, willing myself to keep it together.
Still an hour left until close. Just one more hour until I can get home, crawl into bed with Riley curled up beside me, her soft breath grounding me in a world that actually makes sense.
One more hour.
But I already know I won’t be able to forget any of this, and the next hour is going to drag.