Page 19 of Mortala
I’m taken aback by the beauty of it all. How did Miles even find a place like this? He doesn’t really give off the ‘prancing around in nature’ vibe.
Turning to face Miles, I make eye contact with him, and I realize he’s been watching me this whole time. His gaze is so intense, I can only imagine what he’s thinking right now.
“What do you think?” he asks, giving my hand three small squeezes.
I didn’t even realize we were still holding hands. The act just feels so natural, like his hand was molded for mine.
“It’s incredible. How did you find this place?”
He gives me one of his dreamy smiles that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and I’m reminded how little I actually know about him. Somehow, in the span of maybe a week, Miles has learned more about me than I’d like, yet I still don’t know where he came from, what his life looked like before me, or what secrets he’s keeping behind those blue eyes.
So why do I trust him so much already?
“It’s a long story,” he says. “Let's just say I sort of grew up here.”
I glance around the empty shoreline. Grew up here? How do you grow up at a lake?
As if reading my mind, Miles points towards a cabin I’d somehow missed. It’s tucked behind a cluster of towering trees, it’s weathered wood siding blending seamlessly into the forest. If not for the black metal roof and concrete steps leading to the porch, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it.
“You grew up in a cabin?” I ask. “Where did you go to school?”
His lips curve up into a slight smile. “I spent almost every summer here. My fam—” He cuts himself off, running a hand through his raven hair before starting over. “I own this property.”
I blink. “You own it? But—how?”
His expression softens, but he doesn’t answer.
“That doesn’t matter.” He flashes another smile. “I just want to spend time with you right now. C’mon, let's go for a swim.”
He takes my hand, pulling me towards the water, and once again, panic sets in.
I can’t fucking swim!
“No, no, no, no, no!” I dig my heels into the ground. “I’m not getting in there, Miles!”
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “It’s just a little bit of water.”
He pulls his shirt over his head, exposing the intricate tattoos stretched across his back before toeing off his boots and peeling off his skinny jeans. He’s in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, and my jaw is practically on the ground.
Yeah, this definitely was not on my 2020 bingo card.
Miles turns around to look at me and every coherent thought immediately abandons ship. Ink covers far more of him than I expected. A moth stretches across his stomach, a skull restingin the center of it. An anatomical heart sits over the left side of his chest, wrapped in a ribbon with a date in roman numerals etched across it.
It looks important. My eyes linger on the numbers, trying to decipher them.
What happened on that date?
When I finally look back up to meet his eyes, I find Miles already watching me, the corner of his mouth lifting into a knowing smile.
Well shit.
Heat floods my face so fast, I swear I can feel myself turning what I’m sure is a lovely shade of cherry red.
“Are you gonna come in with me or what?”
“I can’t,” I mumble, clasping my hands behind my back as I dig the toe of my shoe into the sand. Glancing back up at him, I spot his amused face and that beaming smile I’m starting to love shining back at me.
“You can’t?” he repeats, taking another step toward me.
