After breakfast I started to pack up my things. Simple travel items like my toothbrush and hairbrush came out from my overnight bag for the first time since I had packed them, as I carried them to the bathroom to freshen up a bit before I had to go. I didn't bother with a shower. Typically once my teeth and hair were brushed it was enough of an excuse to get on with the day without the waste of effort I'd have in cleaning myself. Plus, I didn't believe that a shower would clean up how dirty I felt

But once my mouth was cleaned, my hair was brushed and my reflection looked a lot more lively, given the small amount of effort I put forward to take care of myself, I noticed my eyes staring back at me in the mirror, bloodshot and empty. Exhausted, from the nights of insomnia mixed with the mornings of being bedridden. What goes in motion stays in motion and what slows down is a lot more difficult to pick back up. My body was tired, and so was my mind, but I had to keep moving. If I left before 2pm I would beat the afternoon traffic, and I wouldn't have to sit for an hour longer in my car, thinking of all the things I could be doing instead of moving at a pace that's slower than walking.

I left the bathroom, dropping my things into my overnight bag on the way in, grabbing my phone from it's place on Miles' desk, and seating myself on his bed, opening my small makeshift website for a moment to check my stats. 3 likes on the newest post. 2 on the previous one. A comment was left, saying 'Are you a fucking psychopath?' and I sat and thought about that question before Miles' walked back into the room, sipping on a cup of coffee.

I left the blog, opting for the mundane world of Facebook instead. Not much else was going on in the world, aside from one person announcing their pregnancy and another announcing their engagement and more pictures of dogs and puppies with text on the overlay saying things like 'Smile! It's going to be a good day!' to 'Here's a smol pupper to brighten your morning. Happy Share a Smile Day!' Nothing I passed gave me a genuine smile.

Miles sat on the bed next to me, reaching over to place his mug on the desktop, before lifting it over my head, positioning it on my lower back. His body moved closer, heat accelerating in the moment. My phone was no longer that interesting as I looked up into his deep brown eyes and locked on mindlessly. He smiled down at me, his gaze glazing over my face, and euphoria welled in my head, loving the way his eyes sparkled like I was the most incredible thing he's ever seen. Then the gaze darted, just a fraction to his left, and his free arm lifted up to gently push aside the locks of hair draping over my shoulder.

His eyebrows furrowed questionably. "What's this?"

For a second, I was so lost in the moment of his company, and his touch, I didn't realise what he was talking about. But then I felt it. It was still there, exposed, probably slowly lightening to blend back into the pigment of my skin tone, and now Miles was sitting here wondering what it was and why it was there and I quickly thought about the first time I stayed over and how I left a lovebite on his neck and all I could think to say was, "A Nerf bullet hit me."

I swear my heart stopped beating.

A familiar, playful smirk spreads across his lips, letting two hiccups of a chuckle slip through his teeth. He knows I'm joking. And in a way I'm a little glad, since I've managed to lighten the situation in a moment of anxiety, and his other arm tightens around me, pulling me in closer, where his heads shakes against my shoulder.

I feel like I owe him an explanation.

"It's nothing to worry about," I say. "It was just a mistake."

When I know I'm lying, I think that everybody can tell that I am. I get that same tightness in my chest that I feel when I'm nervous, or scared. I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks, and I can try to pass it off as being flushed, but it's a dead giveaway that I'm hiding something.

But Miles doesn't even look up at my face. He just sits there, with his head in the crook of my neck, holding me tightly like he always has.

"It's okay," he says. "I don't really wanna know where it came from."

And my heart sinks, just a little, and we sit in silence on his bed, my hand reaching up to rub the arm that's curled around me. Because even though he's not looking at me, I think he can tell it's not the truth.

---

The mid-summer heat had started to rise, a hot, suffocating breeze floats through the air, sweeping through Miles' lot as the two of us walk away from his front door. I open the back door of my car, throwing my bag onto the seat, and Miles speaks up behind me, "So, when are you gonna come down again?"

A slight smile appears on my face, my hand pushing the door closed, and I turn to lean against my car as the light wind hits my cheeks.

"I dunno," I respond, looking directly into his face as my arms fold across my chest. "Why don't you come to me sometime?"

A smile breaks out across his face, his gaze glancing to the ground as he kicks at it with dirt stained sneakers.

"Ah, you know I can't do that," he chuckles, looking back up at me behind the locks of hair that have fallen in his face. "Not until I get my license at least."

I give a single nod, pursing my lips and breaking eye contact to glance around at our surroundings. The trees rustled their leaves, a few birds chirped their calls, sun rays were peeking through the branches and I stare down his long driveway, the one that would take me back to the highway to go home.

I had heard that excuse before, and disappointment still manages to manifest within me every time I hear it.

"Hey," he spoke, my gaze snapping back to look at him. He slowly approached me.

"I'm trying to get it sorted," he reassured, a smile still on his face. His arms lift up to rub the higher parts of my arms, as he gazes down into my eyes. "Soon I'll be able to come up to you as often as you come down to me."

Though I couldn't feel less disappointed, I managed to force a smile onto my face.

"I believe you," I say. And even though I'm disheartened, I mean it.

His arms curl around me, pulling me into his chest, where I inhale the strong scent of his aftershave and the soft fabric of his shirt rubs against my cheek.

We stay there for a moment, in each other's arms, letting the cool breeze rush over us and the early afternoon sun shine onto our skin. I still felt so at peace when I was with Miles. Like there was nothing in the world that could make me as happy and loved as he did. It was the contentment of being held like he'd never let go, and the kiss he would place on the top of my head that had me wishing I could just fall into his arms and let him claim me as his own.

But I had to give myself some time. As much as I wanted to fall in love again, I also wanted to hold onto my freedom a little longer. There was another world I needed to explore, another piece of life I wanted to try out, and I couldn't do it while committing myself to another person. I wanted to be wild, even just for a little bit. And as Miles and I began to part, we said our goodbyes softly, sharing a light kiss right there beside my car, before I climbed in and began to switch on the ignition.

Miles stood there as I switched into gear, backed away, turned around and drove back down the driveway towards the freeway. I waved over my shoulder to him as he grew smaller and smaller the more distance that came between us. And before I got to the freeway, my stomach dropped as I spotted him in the rear view mirror, turning and heading back into his house. Because I knew it would be a while before I would see him again, and it would be a while before we could start making things more serious. It wasn't that I didn't believe him and his words, nor was it that I didn't trust him.

But it was because, truth be told, I had heard this all before.