[COMPLETED] Mila Wilson is quiet, anxious and a little bit of a mess. Panic attacks have ruled her life for as long as she can remember-but starting college is her chance to take control. Love? Not something she believes she's built for.
Then she me...
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I want to find the girls and let them know I'm leaving with Jace, but I can't. After a quick search with no luck, I decide to send a text so they won't worry.
We reach his car faster than I expect, and this time, I'm grateful he doesn't stop to say goodbye to everyone. I just want to leave this place.
The drive to his apartment is quiet again, the only sound being the low hum of the radio and my own voice singing along softly—a habit I fall into without thinking.
"You have a really nice voice, you know?" Jace says suddenly.
I stop singing immediately, startled. "What? No." I laugh, but the blush on my face betrays my embarrassment.
"You do. I thought so the first time I heard you, in the showers—remember the day we met?" He smirks at the memory.
"You heard that?" My face gets hotter.
"Of course I did."
I wonder how long he stood outside that door, listening. I don't say anything else, but the compliment lingers in my chest, warm and quietly unsettling.
By the time we reach his apartment, I'm barely holding my eyes open. I notice Jace looks just as drained.
"You okay?" he asks, eyeing my sleepy expression.
"Yeah... just need sleep," I mumble, rubbing my eyes as I slide out of the car.
Inside, we move wordlessly. He tosses his keys and wallet onto the counter and heads to his closet, handing me another oversized T-shirt.
"Your toothbrush is still in the same spot," he says, nodding toward the bathroom.
A flutter rises in my stomach. He kept my toothbrush. I don't want to wonder if he had another girl over this past week, but for some reason, I do.
I brush my teeth, change quickly, and toss my clothes over a nearby chair, too tired to be tidy. Jace disappears into the bathroom as I climb into bed, pulling the covers up without a second thought. I'm already halfway asleep when I hear the bathroom door open.
Jace walks in wearing only his boxers, just like last time. His looks shouldn't faze me tonight, but of course they do. My mind should be too full. He's a drug dealer. That fact keeps flashing in my head, warning me, tainting everything. But at the same time... he's also the guy who compliments my voice. Who kept my toothbrush.
What are we even doing here?
Jace climbs into bed and turns to face me. "What's on your mind?" he asks gently.
I sigh. He always knows.
"I just don't think I'm ever going to be okay with... the whole drug dealer situation," I say honestly, mirroring his position.
The bed dips slightly, so I sit up a bit to steady myself.
"I get that. But we don't have to figure it all out tonight. Can we just lay here?" he asks, resting his head on the pillow.
I nod. Silence stretches between us for a few seconds. Then, before I can stop myself, the wine takes over.
"You know... you're not the only one with a secret."
I immediately regret it.
He raises an eyebrow, amused. "Oh yeah? What's that?"
"Remember when you said you knew I was different than Jessica?" I ask, and he nods.
"Well... the first thing I thought was that you don't know how different I really am."
He blinks. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"That's a good thing. If you did, you'd probably run."
"Mila," he says with a soft chuckle, "nothing's going to scare me off that easily."
He inches closer, brushing his fingers against my cheek. I melt into his touch, my hand resting gently over his.
"Where is this coming from?" he whispers.
I shake my head. "I'm just... complicated. You'll see."
He smiles faintly. "More complicated than a drug dealer?"
"Maybe."
A pause. I hesitate, then speak. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course." He shifts to get more comfortable, his hand leaving my face.
"Do you sell to your friends? Is that why you were mad last week?"
His jaw tenses slightly. "Good thinking, Sherlock. Yeah. They couldn't pay, and that can get me in serious trouble."
I nod, absorbing that. Then, more carefully: "If you don't take the drugs yourself, why do you let your friends?"
He sighs. "It's late, Mila. Can we not do this right now?"
"Sure," I whisper, even though the questions still churn in my head.
I wonder if he lied about his mom. He makes enough money on his own—so why keep doing this? For now, all I know is that I'm in bed with a drug dealer, and I'm not sure who I am anymore.
But somehow, I love every second I spend with him.
My thoughts spin wildly. I should have just gone to sleep when I had the chance. Now, I'm paying for it.
My stomach flips. Oh no, this is it. I bolt upright and rush to the bathroom. Behind me, I hear Jace mutter, "Fuck," as he follows.
I barely make it to the toilet before I throw up.
The door opens again. Jace steps in and pulls my hair back.
"Get out, Jace. Please. I'm disgusting."
"You're not," he says, still holding my hair.
I lean back against the wall, breathing deeply. Even though throwing up was terrible, I feel better immediately.
"Feel better?" he asks.
"A little." I rinse my mouth, wash my hands, and brush my teeth again. When I turn around, he's waiting with a glass of water and a painkiller.
"Didn't know it hit you that hard," he says with a crooked smile. "Take this—you'll sleep better."
"Thanks," I mumble, taking the pill. "This has never happened before. I swear."
"Really?" He raises an eyebrow as we head back to bed. "So innocent," he murmurs.
"I usually know my limit..."
"It was an eventful night. I'm not all innocent in that.
The warmth of the bed soothes me instantly, but my mind won't stop racing. Panic creeps in again. I just threw up. I'm in a stranger's bed. A drug dealer's bed.
But Jace isn't a stranger. Not really.
The tears start before I can stop them.
"What now?" he asks, carefully.
I just shake my head.
"Mila, you're safe here. You can trust me."
I meet his eyes. His voice is so steady, so real. I wipe my face with the back of my hand, breathing a little easier.
Jace rolls onto his back, opening his arms. "Come here."
I curl into him, his arm wrapping around me, grounding me. Panic turns into pure exhaustion.